Nightmare, fantasy, or reality? Yes.

Lotoja - I thought there were supposed to be 30 miles of flat riding before the climbing began. There were only 5 short miles preceding a 90 degree angle cliff to climb that I couldn't tackle, then I woke up.

Lotoja - I had been planning on training for a while. I swear. I had the best of intentions to do so, but suddenly, the big race was just right around the corner. I wasn't ready, and I was terrified. Then I woke up.

Lotoja - I was quite nervous for the climbs, but I had trained hard for many months and felt as ready as I would ever be. When it came right down to it, however, it didn't matter how much I had trained, how many miles I had put in, or what kind of miles I had worked, it was impossible for me to climb something just short of a shear cliff on a bike. My race was over in the blink of an eye. Fortunately, I then woke up.

Lotoja - I had trained so hard. I was pumped, ready to go. A mere 10 minutes before go-time, there at the start line, I realized all my riding food was forgotten on the kitchen table a hundred-something miles away. My heart sunk into my stomach as I realized I wouldn't make it far with no nutrition to sustain me, but then I woke up.

Lotoja - I had trained so hard. I was pumped, ready to go. There I was, at the start line. The countdown commencing, and before I knew it, my beating heart was fueling my start. I pushed forward on my bike, pulling up my leg to clip in. My foot slid forward, flying right off the clip. I looked down. My heart sunk to my stomach. I had forgotten my shoes. It was going to be a long 200 miles riding in tennis shoes, not clipped in. The longest. Then I woke up.

Lotoja - I had trained so hard. I was pumped, ready to go. There I was, at the start line. The countdown commencing, and before I know it, my beating heart was fueling my start. The pack took off, and I rapidly fell behind. Nobody wanted me to ride with them, everybody blowing past me at speeds just short of lightening to ensure that I could not attach to the end and draft. In no time at all, I was the last participant on the route, literally squeaking along all by myself, still with 200 miles to go. Then I woke up.

Lotoja - I normally never leave my bike outside. I payed way too much for it to be exposed to the elements, and I definitely do not trust those cycling snatchers poking around for their next pray. It was an emergency though. There were children on the playground in potential danger that needed help! I leaned The Firebolt against the slide and ran to aid the children, helping them into the school. Just a few minutes passed, and as they passed so did any more riding that I was to do for a long time. Within the 5 minutes that I was gone, The Firebolt had disappeared, along with my love of cycling and hopes and dreams of completing Lotoja. They were reawakened when I woke up.

Lotoja - After having only done 20 miles once on a clunky mountain bike the year before, I made the foolishly grand decision to buy a road bike and register for Lotoja--a bike race just a mere 10 times my longest distance. Through literal blood, sweat, and tears, I (again, quite literally) trained my bum off, spending hours every day in the saddle, taking time cross-training at the gym, lifting weights, increasing my lung capacity running the track, and most importantly, riding thousands and thousands of miles over the span of 6 months. I could not have trained harder, and I could not have been more anxious. I had worked so hard, established expectations, and did not want to let myself down. Race day came, and after checking my list double, triple, quadruple times with everything seemingly in order, I was off, leaving behind the cheering crowd and the world's best support crew, both en route and back home. It was the hardest. I pushed myself harder than I ever had before--climbing some of my toughest mountains and canyons, reaching some of my personal best speeds while drafting with those my cycling superior as well as on my own, and pushing through the worst aches, pains, and little voices in my head questioning what the point was, what was I trying to prove, why not just quit. With my body aching in every nook and cranny, my digestive tract shutting down, and my vision failing me, I did what I thought I couldn't. I proved to myself that I could persevere, that I could push through muck to reach a greater goal, that I could accomplish something seemingly impossible to me through grit and hard work, that the human body, no matter its shape and size, is truly a miracle and capable of much more than I give it credit for. A mere 40 minutes before cut off time and with my entire body never hurting more than it did, I crossed the finish line. That night I collapsed into bed like never before. Then I fell asleep.