Standing on the start line at Big Sugar, it felt like a lot was hanging in the balance. The final race of the Lifetime Grand Prix meant that we had all examined the standings and despite our best attempts to mask in when interacting with one another, we all knew who we needed to beat in order to move up in the rankings.
After a great race the week before at Little Sugar, I knew the legs and body were firing, which I’ve found doesn’t seem to lessen the number of nerves. The nerves are always the same. You’ve either nervous because you don’t know what to expect of your body, or you’re nervous because you know you have it and you just want to be able to execute on the day.
On Sunday, I was the ladder. I felt like so many things were coming together at the right time and I just wanted the chance to showcase all that I had worked for this year.
The start began and I immediately entered flow state. It was like the race slowed down around me and I could see every opening, gap, and opportunity in the peloton. I was snaking through the group and for the first 50 miles, I consistently found myself sitting in the top-5 wheels exactly like I had planned with my coach. I felt like I was on fire.
Around mile 55 I found myself a little further back in the group than I wanted after the group spread out on a descent. An attack went on the next climb. I waited and waited. No one was closing it so I went. I buried myself to make it across the gap and I got there just in the nick of time. I made the selection, then the group sat up. The entire field came back together. I wanted my match back.
On the next climb, a similar situation arose. This time, I waited. I figured it would all come together again. Why make the same mistake twice? But it didn’t. The group accelerated over the top and the chase was on.
I found myself in a chase group contending for the Top-10. Despite missing the tactical move for the split, I was still in great position. Not only was I in a good group and solid position, I was also exactly where I needed to be in order to content for the chance to move up in the overall Grand Prix Ranking.
The hours rolled on in the race, and I only felt better and better. I was loving every moment. Then at mile 70, on an uphill, I felt liquid spraying me in the back of the leg. My heart sank. I didn’t even want to look back. It got louder, and the spray got heavier. Two women around me said the dreaded words, “Hannah, you have a flat.” I was praying it would seal. I kept soft pedaling. “Come on, come on, come on” I begged out loud. I rode until it hit rim and all hope was lost of not having to stop.
I jumped off my bike, two plugs and a Co2 later and I was back on my way. I had lost all sense of time. How long was I stopped? Was there still a chance? I threw everything I had and trying to get back to the group, but it was too late in the race and I was stopped longer than I thought. I caught a few stragglers who had been dropped from the group, but it just wasn’t enough.
I crossed the finish line with a knot in my throat. That was hurt. So many “What ifs” and “If onlys” floating around in my head. I had wanted this one so badly but for some reason it just wasn’t meant to be. I finished the Grand Prix in the painful 11th place, just one spot off of the podium.
Here’s the thing though, and I really mean this. How lucky am I to have something that hurts this much when I fall just short? How lucky am I to care this deeply, to be this close, and to have something worth fighting for? Not everyone gets to feel the pain of almost. I am genuinely grateful for that. The pain tells me that the fire is burning bright and that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Now, in just 5 days, I head to Tanzania, to attempt to set the record up and down Kilimanjaro by bike; a journey I’ve been preparing for all year.
