Rapidly increased blood loss was occurring, mental and emotional strength tested beyond rational comprehension, as the stench of stress sweat filled the air. Was this the end they thought? Could this really be the way it would play out? Endless hours of dedication and preparation put into this one day for nothing? 

It all started as such an innocent ambitious quest yet took such a grueling turn. 

They were there to protect, that they knew and were prepared so they thought for what may be thrown their way that fateful day. 

Faith in oneself's ability is a strength. Faith in another humans assumed ability often proves ones inner stupidity.

He said to me " it's easy, no biggie, you can do it. Just go slow and you will do fine". I had learned to ride a bike just two years earlier and had ridden less than fifteen times and less than thirty miles combined and never done a race. Somehow this qualified me (in my husbands mind) for a thirty mile mountain bike race. Knowing my husband would never put me in harms way and always has my best interest in mind I agreed. Why not,  right? I can totally rock this. I mean how hard can it be?  

Race day quickly approaching, and when I say quickly I mean two days, I began to think like a biker but realized I was missing a key piece of gear to look the part of the "racer chic". I obviously needed those clip in shoes like the others had. Our dear friend, bless his heart was more than willing to oblige in selling me my "make me look cool" shoes. Not sure if he had faith in me or needed a good laugh but nonetheless he was ever so helpful. 

Our group of biker gangsters got settled into our campground the day before the race, oh yes they really did start their own gang with name and jerseys and all. After this race I would earn the right to wear one of those jerseys. I would be a legitimate Spin Mob member! I put on my new shoes for the first time at the campground as I didn't want to get them dirty before the race. Huh, this clipping in thing was a bit hard in and of itself I thought. Then came the "are you serious" comments from the gang. What was the problem? Clipped in and ready to go I took off for a practice run around the campground gravel parking lot. No one was at all surprised when I came back bleeding. Clipping in was difficult but getting my dang feet out of them was nearly impossible and it was much easier to just slowly fall to the side. Sure it would be easier on the actual race morning I went to bed. 

Racers lined up with their race faces on and not as clean of shoes and mine, as I stayed in the back not wanting to show off or anything. My sweet husband had decided to ride with me because it was my first race. What a gem! The sweepers for the race were our friends and fellow gang members. So there I was with my guy and friends, what a great start! 

What seemed like 10 miles in my legs were burning and death seemed imminent. Then I was told we weren't even on the trail yet and that it would get so much easier. Hope turned into vengeance when I saw the "trail". It was smaller than my tire and to my left were sharpened tree branches daring me to fall into the cliff they declared theirs. 

I will admit that the shoes were a bad idea and they were nearly the death of me. Trying not to clip the dang things in so as not to fall into the waiting snickering daggers I finally just got off my bike and started to walk it. Where is that " it's easy, no biggie, you can do it. Just go slow and you will do fine" husband of mine? He is behind me, dying a bit inside. Then came the realization that we were miles away from where someone could meet us and pick me up followed by the dreadful  sound of a swarm of eagle sized mosquitoes. One hundred percent deet proved to be food for the blood sucking beasts as they attacked mainly my husband and our sweepers. 

I had mentioned several times to my husband over the past year that I should sell my bike because I really didn't ride it that much but he always said no. On that trail, on that life changing day I once again said I think I will sell my bike. As he swatted his rear for the millionth time killing another blood sucking beast he said "hell yes you will". 

Two miles later and countless pints of blood donated I met my ride. My husband rode off onto a dusty road and my kind friendly sweepers went for blood transfusions. 

So I never did get my jersey and couldn't care less, sold that damn bike, and my husband has never again asked me to race.