It’s the epitome of irony, really. We spend 2 weeks down in California, ride nothing but hills, and here I am, cursing at a little kicker. Or two kickers on top of one another, to be exact. The distinction didn’t really matter, honestly, because my legs burned either way. Dessie was ahead, pacing me so I could help pull on the flats. There was no one else with us.
How did this happen? Well… It may sound familiar to a few people.
Short version: Becca needs a new strategy.
Long version: The small pack of women’s A’s were on the back stretch of the loop (which we would be doing 6 times for 48 miles) with a headwind. It was only two laps in, so no one had the intention of attacking yet. We were going through a nice pace line, shifting through leaders, when I get to the front. I wanted to warm up my legs a little more, so I bumped up the speed. But only a little bit. I swear, it was only a little bit. After a few moments, I flick my arm to let someone go…
Except that I had somehow popped off the front of the pack and I was now going solo.
Now, many smart people at this point would go, “Huh. I am 2/6 laps in. Do I want to go 30+ miles by myself? Answer: nope” and would slide back into the group. Well, for some reason, my thought process was, “Well, okay. Let’s see how this will work out.”
So, no. No, this was not an attack. People told me afterwards that I was ballsy (how does one spell that?) for attacking so soon and trying to hold it, but no. This was a pull. As usual, there was no plan.
I began to regret my decision after a full lap by myself.
Suddenly, I heard the most wonderful sound in the world: “I got you, girl.” Dessie had bridged up from the pack and had caught me. This had to be the happiest moment of my life. Graduating college, my wedding day, the birth of my first child…none of those will compare to this one moment (insert dramatic sniff here for effect).
So, here we were. TTT’ing it for the next 5 laps. She would pull on the hills (and a lot of the flats, actually), I would pull on the wind section and the flats, and we would waterfall it down the long descent. It was so wonderful yet so painful. And that hill. Oh, that hill.
Now, this story doesn’t exactly end with Dessie and I going across the finish line hand and hand (lucky Dino and Haley). No, my legs finally DIED on the last lap (on that stupid double-kicker hill, actually) and I let Dessie go. Two other girls caught up to me, and dropped me as well. Funny how your legs feel after pounding it out for over 30 miles.
We all meet back at the car and laid out on the grass. We had an hour before our TTT race. Mackinzie, Dessie, and I looked at each other. All three of us were in a line, threatening to doze off in the heat of the sun. “Could we, you know,” I asked, “Just do our TTT on the ground? Take turns sleeping on our backs versus our fronts?”
“I approve,” Mackinizie said. “Becca, take a pull.” I nodded and rolled over onto my front. Best pull ever.
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