The Test.

3:24 PM Remy Maguire - Manifest the Best 1 Comments

Kim, Spencer and I arrived in Corvalis Saturday afternoon with a car full of gear, anticipation and laughter. Tomorrow I would set off on my first 50 mile mountain bike race. The course would consist of climb after steep climb followed by brief and often complicated downhill sections. This isn't a race, we all agreed, in the first of several efforts to calm our nerves. It’s a ride. I mean, come on, how could we possibly prepare for 50 miles at race pace!?

We quickly found our way to a trail in town to spin our legs and get our heads in the game. As we piled out of the truck I quickly realized I'd left my helmet at home in the rush and commotion of packing up. Ok. Ok. Calm. After a couple quick phone calls we have the pick up of a friends spare planned for race morning. Can't sweat it now. It's been a crazy few days anyway and this event seems par for the course. In fact, I'm taking it as another sign that the race will go better than feared - it has to!

I decided on the restaurant for us that night. We were the only patrons in the restaurant – maybe a bad sign, but we took it as a good one. The waiter was quite candid describing the menu, "Oh the tuna is kinda small for the price, and the scallops are too pricey." I wanted the tuna, so I ordered the tuna. Guess I should have listened to the fella. Fishy and small! After little debate I sent it back and ordered another round while we waited. Two drinks before a race! I'm going with good sign again! We laughed and joked and team "Ninja, Black OPs, Goos" came together.

We were up at 6 AM, greeted by a steady rain we did not expect and did not relish. As we lined up for the start, it was still raining. This sucks, I said to myself, an opinion shared by many other riders. I had a number of opinions at the time – I don't want to do this; I can't do this; 50 miles! In the rain!? Cold, wet, yuck! I was not happy.
And then we were off! My legs felt surprisingly good. “Hey! Is that the sun!!!???” I thought as I eased my way up the first short climb. I slip my arm warmers off as a smile creeps across my face. "This is ridiculous. And this might be fun!"
There were seven ascents that came on quickly and went on and on and on. Even after finally reaching the top there was little time to recover. Each never-ending climb turned directly into a menacing descent. After almost four hours of grueling climbing, I knew one thing for certain. “I'm never doing this again!”
At the halfway point, I pulled my weary body off the bike and began wolfing down my sandwich. Time spent eating was time off the course so I ate as I walked into the woods to multitask so to speak. When I returned, my teammate had refilled my water bottle and raised my seat post as I’d urgently requested. She looked at me with an expectant grin. I could tell she was ready to go. "Um, can I finish this sandwich?" I asked, still somewhat delirious. "Yes,” she replied. Other cyclists began to roll by to start their second lap. We both noticed; she hardly needed to add “… or podium. Go get those girls.”
I pushed off, but this time, refueled by food and the short break, faster than the first time. And that was when I clicked into some new mental place. Now it was a race.

Every hill that had tormented me, tearing at my lungs and burning my knees and thighs, rose before me and retreated behind me, but this time less noticed. Even when I walked to give my legs a break, I forced myself to run. “Keep going!” I commanded myself. “Keep pushing,” I called out loud to myself and any other racer around. We were all in this thing together. But as I saw others stop or fall behind I knew I had something left to give. There was no way I was going to cross the finish line without leaving it all on the trail.
I finished well ahead of my goal of seven hours, second place in a field of 12 Category 2 women. In one twenty-four hour period, I went from "This is ridiculous! I'm never, no way, ever, ever doing this again!" to "Huh, that wasn't so bad. When's the next race?"
I don’t know how that happened but a week later, looking back, I have a pretty good idea. Whatever came up, I never lost focus on my vision for more than a moment. Everything – the forgotten helmet, the bad fish, the second drink, the rain at the start – I took as a sign of better things to come. Each became a bump that passed as soon as I noticed it and let it go. When it was time to race, like a meditation, I kept my thoughts in the moment. I can’t tell you everything that happened on the ride because the thoughts raced just like I did and never lingered long enough to be remembered or take over.
What was a grueling challenge in my head on Saturday became one pedal stroke after another on the race course. All that stuff beforehand I left behind. I see now it was all a meditation. And that is as it should be. Racing is now.



Lots of Thanks to my team mates for a wildly fun and successful race. To my pit crew and coach at home - you were with me at every turn. And special thanks to Doug, my inspiring client and editor for getting my vision even when I can't see it straight.