WEMBO 24 hr solo World Championships

After nearly 30 hours of grueling travel with a mere 3 hours of sleep sitting upright on a plane, Team Bemis arrived to Finale Ligure, Italy in the evening, which was early morning US time. Even though we were all exhausted, being in this charming, colorful town gave us renewed energy and we immediately stuck our feet in the water, stretched our legs, and took pictures of the sunset. Here we were. This was really happening.

The days leading up to the race were occupied by pre-riding the course, grocery shopping, resting, exploring, and eating delicious Italian food. I also got to hang out with Tristan, the co-U23 world champ from New Zealand, and his support crew. We've kept in touch since last year, so it was special to be together in person and have another racer to spend time with, even if most of our conversations were just making fun of each others' accents and silly phrases. At times it almost felt like we were on vacation!

But then I would remember...in just days time, we would be suffering for 24 hours. Deep breaths. This is what we came here to do.

Even though there's only one rider, 24 hour solo racing is a team sport. Joining me this year was my Mom, Aunt Cyndi, Kevin (who traveled to NZ with us last year), and his wife Rachel. Wednesday night we all sat down and had a team meeting to assign roles and ensure efficiency at the pit stops.

Don't panic. You've done it before, you can do it again.

Friday was race day. The start was at 10:00 am, 1:00 am US time. The atmosphere of the venue was exciting, with international flags strung over the pits, spectators in wild outfits, and a big stage preparing to accommodate the live band. 24 hrs of Finale has been deemed, "a party with bikes." The race meeting was led by Russ Baker, WEMBO founder from Australia, then translated to Italian, and finally to German. Only 2 hours till the start. Here we go.

I had entered into the elite category this year, which meant I'd be competing against the best in the world from all age groups. We lined up at the Le Mans start, which entailed running to our bikes. I enjoy running, but my body just isn't built for it. I ran cross country my first 2 years of high school but was plagued by injury after injury, and I haven't run since. I didn't know what the run would be like or how my sore hamstring would hold up, so I was anxious to get it over with. The start chute was lined with loud spectators cheering and hollering in all kinds of dialects. I felt like a foreigner. The race director had told us that out of the 400 riders competing, about half were Italian, so I learned some basic racing phrases prior, including how to say "pass on your right/left," "thank you," and "good job." There were less than 10 American entrants, so even the English-speakers on course would be challenging to understand through their thick accents.

5...4...3...2...1...Go! One last deep breath. Some racers had opted to wear running shoes and change, but most of us wore our carbon-soled cycling shoes with metal cleats near the toe. The run was rumored to be 500 meters (one-and-a-quarter times around a track), but we later found out that it was over a half mile. It featured short, steep descents and a slick, wooden ramp that I had to use a rail on to hoist myself up without slipping.

Alas, we made it to our steeds.

I found myself in second place, leading the reigning World Champion and 3rd place from last year. I help position for about a third of the lap, then let them go, hoping to see them again later. I had a heart-rate plan to stick to and didn't want to exceed my numbers and burn too many matches on the climbs. But the course made this difficult to do. Racers were saying it was undoubtedly the most challenging 24 hour course they had ever ridden. From what the eyes could see, it was beautiful, with views of the magnificent ocean, flowers, and tropical foliage around every turn. But upon mounting a bike, it became vicious.

The first mile weaved us through the maze of pits, which contained good energy, but was slow and choppy. Then we were dumped onto the first single track. The rocks, roots, and technical drops were a blast to pre-ride, but would take a jarring toll on our hands and limbs after the first couple of hours, by throwing us around and demanding maneuvers. In the middle of the course there was a steep gravel climb (similar in grade to the hardest of the 3 jeep trails at Skyline), followed by more bumpy single-track. Then came my favorite part. It was a forgiving climb with an uninterrupted view of the ocean scattered with sailboats. This was one of the only parts of the course that let up long enough to allow us an escape from the suffering. But not for long. We would soon veer to the right to ascend what I personally nicknamed "the gates of hell." Monotonous steep, rocky, jagged, rutted climbs that demanded my heart rate rise to the occasion. These did not belong in a 24 hour course. Sometimes I'd walk them, but the suffering was inevitable.

The thought of racing or doing anything for 24 hours is daunting and had me close to panic too many times. 4 hours in, still 20 to go, even though my body just wanted to sit and eat. 6 hours in, the pain had gone from bored and uncomfortable to legs actually aching and mind going numb, but we were only a quarter of the way done. In a cross country race, no matter how bad you feel or what place you're in, it will all be over within an hour. But in an ultra-endurance race, you're trapped. Trapped between self-inflicted torture to a body that cries for mercy, or sitting it out feeling guilty and ashamed. There's no escape. Not until the time is up.

On hour 7, around 5:00, I was feeling great again. I'm in freaking Italy doing what I love to do with awesome people and making those watching from home proud and feeling wonderful and I'm only 18 but am in the elite category killing it and even though I am in 6th place I am going to catch up and make top 5 and the single-track is fun and oh wow look at how beautiful the ocean is

Too bad moods like these can't last forever.

When darkness came, spirits dropped once again. I finally went pee in the porta potty which was a good sign that I was hydrated properly. Sitting was so nice, and when I finally convinced myself to get back up I could barely stand. Was it too much to ask to stay in the parta potty a little longer? And how bad is it to even ask that question.

I'd been hyped up from chasing the other elite women and trying to stick with them that my heart rate was higher than what I knew it should be. It's just hard to see them ride away, to give them the satisfaction that they broke you. My blood was in my limbs not my core, so the food I was eating every lap just sat there in my stomach. I felt the familiar feeling of having to throw up, and every climb or small effort made it worse.

Tristan had been on break for a little while, but decided to come back out and ride a few laps with me. It was such a blessing. Sometimes the hardest part about 24 hour solo racing is fighting boredom, and Tristan is great for that! We headed out and distracted each other from our misery as we kept the pedals turning. Our paces and heart rates dropped with the sun, as expected, and now we had the sunrise to look forward to.

The last mile of the course was where the midnight party was at. Crazy, drunk Italians lined the course with confetti, noise makers, outrageous outfits, and enthusiasm to cheer us through the woops. It was a sight to behold and treat to look forward to!

But, following a similar pattern of the race, good things don't last forever. The party stopped partying and the band stopped playing. Quiet darkness once again.

At about 2:00 am, the witching hour, terror set in. I felt like I had the flu, my hands were bruised, my legs hurt like hell, I was still stuck in 6rth place, and there were 8 more hours to go. Imagine that. Rolling into the pits, the crew asked me what I wanted. I just wanted to die. I had to stop and take a break, and this time I wouldn't let them talk me out of it. Tristan kept going. I hadn't eaten in hours and wasn't drinking much either, but managed some crackers and warm ginger drink to settle my stomach while sitting. At this point I was mentally numb. I watched the other women ride by our tent, passing or lapping me, but I didn't have the energy to feel guilty. I was so weak I could barely stand. It rained a bit, and the cold made my dirty legs shake in spasms. This was it. There was no way I could go back out there in this condition. I've never not finished a race, so wasn't it ok that I threw in the towel just this one time? That's how I would rationalize it. That's how I would explain my failure.

Through blurry vision, I saw the disappointment in Team Bemis' eyes. "We didn't come all this way to quit." My mom said. "I just can't this time." I told her. "Yes you can...you're a tough girl." Kevin replied. They tired to hoist me up with their arms but I told them they couldn't force me to ride. They wanted for Kevin to push me and then get dome momentum to keep going. But I could not this time. I'm mentally strong, I'm physically strong, but his time I swear to you I physically could not.

It was decided that I'd lay down for an hour and then be woken up to check my condition. I usually resent sleeping or even stopping at all during races, because the adrenaline wears off, I cramp up, and obviously time is lost. But since I was in survival mode, I didn't care. It felt fantastic to be horizontal. I closed my eyes. I could hear my mom whispering my name test if I was asleep. I wasn't. But I quickly opened my eyes to stretch them. She wasn't looking.

All of a sudden, the Lord almighty came over me. I had hope and life breathed into soul and was healed. I can't explain it. I think that's what they call a miracle. A discreet smile sprawled across my face. I counted down from 60 in my head, eyes still closed, body still on the ground, and then jumped up dramatically, as if I had been risen from the dead. "I'm going back out!" I bravely announced. After all the failed coaxing just minutes ago, everyone was shook. We put the lights back on and I stumbled around, mounted my stallion, then proceeded back into battle. My eyes were massive and my goal was clear. I flew by strugglers, male and female, and didn't get passed once for 3 solid laps. I kept eating, but at this point it was merely a mood-booster. I felt high. I rode up all of the gates of hell which I hadn't done since the start 20 hours ago.

Could I keep this pace up for 4 more hours? Heck yes!

No.

It was fun while it lasted, but once again, the mania wore off. I paced the race like an amateur, but it's hard to slow down when you feel invincible or are holding onto a valuable wheel. Finishing my 23rd lap with an hour to go, there's a sign tdiverts "continue racing" to the left and "done" to the right. Looking back on it now, do I wish I would have done another lap? Of course. And I knew I would feel this way. I knew people were praying for me, and I knew people were following live timing and my Instagram stories back at home. But I physically had to quit. Upon arriving back to pit, I collapsed into Rachel's arms crying. Tears of joy because it was over, but also tears of some disappointment. I had placed 9th out of 13 Elite women, with a total of 160 miles and over 26,000 feet of climbing on a ridiculously technical and demanding course.

Thank-you to family, friends, and followers who prayed for and encouraged me. Thank you to sponsors who ensured my race machine was running smoothly, and of course a huge thank you to Team Bemis who traveled across the world to selflessly support my dramatic self for 24 hours. And a special thanks to Coach Jason, who supported the dream wholeheartedly and fit all he could from home to ensure my success. Juggling high school races with endurance training was technical and challenging, and I couldn't have done it without his expertise and assurance.

Through all of this I have to keep things in perspective, and remember that I'm only 18. I didn't bring home the gold like I know so many of you wanted me to, but am now proud of my effort and result in a crazy competitive field with some seriously strong women. Some day I'll win the Women's Elite field and become a true World Champion, and now, through this learning experience, I'm one stop closer.

#wembo #24hoursolo #mountainbike #racing #wembo2017 #24hoursoffinale #finaleligure