Alex Hutchinson describes endurance as, “The struggle to continue against a mounting desire to stop.” Endurance was on full display this weekend at the Big Sugar classic as I repeated to myself over and over and over, “Just don’t give up.”

The day started like any other race day, with high hopes and big goals. I felt good and unlike many other people, I still felt mentally strong at this point in the season. Little did I know that I would need every mental match I had to finish on the day. 

The first few miles of the race were fast, as expected, and I found myself in a strong group, including the eventual 2^nd place rider, and I was looking ahead. I was attempting to drive the pace where I could. All of a sudden, the pace felt much harder than it should have. I looked around and felt like I was straining more than others, and looked back at my tire and saw that somewhere, somehow, I had flatted. My heart sunk. How is this even possible?

I pulled over to the side and saw the group roll away. I was frustrated because I knew soloing back up to a big group would be a massive effort, but it was a massive effort I felt like I had in me, so not all was lost. 

I examined the tire, and with shaking hands grabbed my plugs and Co2. There was a long slash in the sidewall. A plug wouldn’t fix it and only 20 miles into the race I wasn’t ready to commit to a tube. I aired it up with a Co2 until the tire was hard as a rock and ventured onward. A few miles later, it was completely flat again, so I stopped and aired it up again, hoping to get a few more miles out of it. Eventually, I was just riding on the insert, working, what felt like, twice as hard to cover the terrain, and desperately watching the distance tick by until I could get to the aid station where I was allowed to get a new wheel. I rode approximately 15 miles on the insert. 

When I finally got a new wheel, I was further back than I wanted, but I was proud of how I had limited my loses and with a fresh tire under me, I had new life breathed into me. This was going to be a comeback story. I could feel it!

I left the aid station firing on all cylinders. I was all alone, but I was straining my neck around each and every corner to try to catch a glimpse of the next group ahead. Several miles went by and I was shocked I still didn’t see anyone. 

Then, all of the sudden, the gravel road I was on T’d up against a highway. There was no one in sight and it hit me: I had taken a wrong turn. 

My jaw dropped. I wanted to cry. Standing there all alone on a gravel road, I let out a scream of frustration! I turned around and started to backtrack. I was now in a bit of a panic mode. I cried, I yelled, and I even considered quitting. But I couldn’t. 

All of a sudden, I was calculating. This race was no longer about today’s result, it was about the overall Grand Prix Series placement. In the series, 5 out of 7 events count and I had opted to skip two of the events, so I had no lee-way. This one counted. I knew that if I quit that I would for sure fall outside of the top 10 (in the money) for the series. In fact, in order to stay in the top 10, I would have to make a comeback and pass as many people as possible. Each place is one point, and based on my calculation, every point would count. 

It’s hard to race from a position you don’t feel like you belong, but you have to put all of that anger behind you and focus on the task at hand, catching up. The wrong turn was not a small misfortune, according to my computer file, it cost me approximately 15 minutes. I had a lot of ground to make up. 

For 30 miles I saw no women. I began to wonder if this plan of catching as many people as possible was all for not. Then, at mile 70, I saw a group of women ahead. I was making progress. 

I passed approximately 15 women in the last 30 miles of the race. Every one of which counted toward getting me back in the top 10 in the series overall. 

It was a challenging quest because I couldn’t let up for an instance, every person I caught, I had to blow by with the hope of catching more. 

With just 1 mile to go, I found myself just seconds away from 2 other women. One voice inside my head told me I had worked hard enough on the day, another voice asked me, “What if this is the difference?” After nearly 110 miles (some of which were extra credit) I sprinted as fast as my little legs would carry me to snag every last point I could. 

When I crossed the finish line it was utter relief. I had persevered for so long. I had held back crushing emotion for so long, now all I could do was wait to see if it had been worth it. 

Moments later, I found out I had salvaged 9^th in the overall (by just 3 points). Every single effort had been worth it. A new wave of relief washed over my body. 

This was a messy race. It’s not a perfect comeback story. It is a story of never giving up. It is my challenge to you to never release hope and to always keep pushing forward. Please, do it for me. If even one person finds strength to overcome something because of a story like this, it makes all of the trials and tribulations worth it!