#16 "Trevor, tell me the truth."

I pulled closer to Route 1 and saw lights. A welcome sight. There were a few small structures. Then I see a bridge. Route 1. I pull up a steep dirt slope onto the road. Two blocks, and I see my van. Mile 470. Mercy.

I get off and Javier and Brian check the bike over again. No damage. If they only knew…

They ask me questions to see how I am, physically and emotionally. Like a trainer assessing his boxer between rounds when he is absolutely getting his ass kicked. Should they call the fight?

I am wet from sweat and it is very cold. I need to change my shirts. I had four layers on including my jacket. The jacket was the only thing not wet. I took it all off. I only had one extra layer in my race bag. Javier scrounged up a shirt. Brian gave me back the team pullover I gave him. Jacket back on. I drank some chia, and ate a banana.  

I joked with them – “How are you guys holding up?” They laughed. But it was a serious question. They were staying up for as long as I was for the most part.

“Trevor, tell me the truth.” I knew they wouldn’t bring it up. I had to ask.“You have been riding for 21 hours. At this rate you will finish in 40 hours.” I knew I had lost a lot of time. I knew I was going slow to save my neck from jarring. 

I thought my team would not be surprised if I waved the white flag. It did not cross my mind.  

I knew that the worst of the course was behind me. Could I make up time on the next 385 miles? I needed to make it to the crossover road. It was 85 miles of smoother course where I could make up time with less investment of energy and less punishment on my neck. I had one more section – 35 miles to 505 to where it started getting easier – at least to mile 590 it was easier. That’s all I thought about.

I cherished my time with my team there at mile 470 at 3:30 am. I don’t know how long it lasted – maybe 10 or 15 minutes – but it was heaven. I had dry shirts on, some food and encouragement, and felt a bit renewed.

I rode away up the pavement a few miles to find the course and dive back into the desert. This section was relatively easy when Tanner and I pre-ran it. Not anymore. The trucks had ground the rigid soil to silt.

Picture this – a road with two 18” deep ruts. Now picture it uphill. Now bending left or right. Now add rocks into the ruts. Now add a rock ledge step up once in a while. Now cover the whole thing with a foot of silt. Now make it night and ride your motorcycle up this. It was brutal. It makes an expert rider feel like he started riding last week.

You can’t call “no fair.” There is nobody to complain to. And if you surrender, you stay in the desert until someone finds you the next day – hopefully. You have to go on.  

I had conversations with my daughter, Chloe. I told her I loved her and I was proud of her. In talking to her, I had to stay strong. I was Dad. I couldn’t crumble.

I talked to my father who taught me how to fly, back in the day of Loran navigation. “Keep the bug on the line, right, Dad?” “Right, son.”

There is an interesting relationship between the mind and the body. The body sends the mind signals – it tells the mind how it’s doing. In our regular life, we are accustomed to responding to the body. But the mind has the ability to send signals back. The mind can ignore the body. The mind can tell the body “I hear you, but I am ignoring you,” or “I am telling you to keep going anyway.” It is a battle for who is supreme. If the body wins, the mind says “Oh my gosh, I am in so much pain I have to stop.” If the mind wins, the body keeps going despite the pain.

My mind was winning so far in this race. But the body’s feedback was getting louder and harder to override…