It don't mean a thing...

IT DON'T MEAN A THING...
... if I ain't got that Fling (finished)

It's Sunday night. My wheel will need replacing. I have a massive bruise on my knee, and I'm physically and mentally exhausted, and finished far further down than I'd hoped. But hopefully I can make up for that with a really good write up of what led to all this.

Sundays are always a day that many will have their heads bowed. This is typically in church (or playing golf). But on the second Sunday in November, the number of heads pointing downwards greatly increases with the Highland Fling going on, with almost everyone who races in the state there, and everyone determined to do well, hence with the heads down in sheer determination.
So, despite being in the stress-free situation of final exams and assignments in the two weeks surrounding the event, not to mention a wedding ceremony the afternoon before in the CBD, I was determined to do anything in my power to present myself in the start group and supplement my year of solid category wins and heavy training with a solid result to finish the year on a high(land). I'd trained hard, despite my semester having painful at uni, and felt prepared. After camping the night, I rose at 5am, ate, warmed up and lined up, getting ready for the big day.

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I get a good start at the beginning, catching up to the group of 100 milers on the road section and getting into the first group of about 12 before we hit the dirt road, where I plan to stay. I can see it'll be a tough day out as I start to remember the magnitude of hills, combined with a fair amount of grass, something I always find painful, but I feel that even if I have one or more very tough tasks ahead of me (both on and off the bike), I find that so long as everything goes smoothly, I don't get particularly stressed.

So you can imagine that when some clever soul thinks that it's a good idea to cut through the centre of the two files of riders less than a metre apart on a farm track to overtake, I am not at all pleased when his bars hit mine, "flinging" me off the bike and into a tangled mess in front of several other riders. I pick myself up, dust myself off, and get back on, but by this point, the top riders are well ahead, and no efforts will latch me back on. To add to the incident, now I have a massive bruise on my leg at my knee joint. I settle into a group of about 6, and just decide to deal with it as best I can - I can't waste energy like this now with 110 more km to go. But that's just the tip of the iceberg...

As another rider tails me, he quips to me that my rear wheel's bent. And I look down, and see the whole thing, shaking a full 2cm out of alignment, as a result of the aforementioned tumble. This is going to be one long, painful day in the saddle, I think. I'm unsure of how the whether the wheel will even survive or what, and feel I may save myself a lot of grief if I simply pull out, but as famous Olympic marathon runner, John Akhwari said, "I didn't all the way here to start the race. I came to finish the race." And I need to get my third race in for the Maverick series. Because... IT DON'T MEAN A THING, IF I AIN'T GOT THAT FLING finished. That'll be my motto for the rest of the day. It doesn't matter if it's sweet or hot; (It didn't look like it'd be sweet, but certainly would warm up), I'm going to give that rhythm everything I've got!

My hopes that a mechanic would sort me out at Wingello Oval crumble as I arrive there. I look around, but see nobody to help. Frustrated, I refill, grab some food and head out with the bunch once more. I've survived the first 28km, hopefully I will the remainder (I think "survived" is a very good word to describe my day). We hit the Wingello singletrack in a group of 6, and I stay attached, but physically feel lacking something as well. My stomach has felt like a blender since early on - not sure if it's due to eating breakfast too late, frustration or just having an off day, and overall I have less energy than I usually do. Despite that, I ride The Wall and catch back up with the group after two hiccups, so we snake together through the fantastic singletrack.

The front end of the Elites catch us in (I think) the Flinging Scotsman segment, and I watch them speed by. Heck, now I feel slow! During this, the front member from our group breaks away, so now it's only five of us. Then another guy gets a flat tyre in the Genesis segment, resulting in his Exodus from our group. As we finish the singletrack, it's further reduced to 3, so I realize how crucial it is to stay with these people if at all possible.

But as I feel my fatigue, the bike and my sore leg, I realize halfway up Halfway hill that it's just not possible; they're slowly but surely getting away from me and I simply don't have the physical or mental strength to get back on board. So here I am, just like last year: alone in the back half of Wingello, with boundless hills to go. Now cramps start to hit my already sore knee, forcing me to walk several of the ascents, making the experience that much more pleasant. Getting back to transition seems to take forever, as the new (I must admit, beautiful) section of singletrack has added on several kms to the stage, but eventually I'm there, and once again refill. To make me even "happier," I discovered that my miracle drink (like red bull x10, which I believed I put in my pocket, wasn't there and I was almost out of gels (and to add insult to injury, I later realize that I left my toolbag open when I checked inside it). I conceded that the next 28km were not going to be any prettier. I'm joined by Blades_Utd as I roll out, but as we hit the singletrack, I let him go as I just don't have the strength to keep up. I walk many of the hills to minimize the cramps - today is definitely the worst I've felt on the day of a race, and am overtaken helplessly by full Flingers.

I am reminded of Paul's second letter to the Corinthians as he proclaimed (4:17) that "Our present sufferings are small and won't last very long. Yet they produce for us a glory that vastly outweighs them" as I scale Broke Back mountain. I suppose it depends on whether one could consider 5+ hours of punishment not lasting very long, but the result will be ingrained in me for much longer. I am now having to stop to stretch my legs before the (numerous) pinch climbs, and am being overtaken by several cyclists I know, all seemingly surprised to see me here.

Although having no energy left to hold on, I press on for the remaining 5km of fire trail and unsealed road, before the final (painful) bit of grass and singletrack to the finish, and crawl over the line. Having my Mum there, as well as Jonathan (jp) cheering me on was a great spirit booster for an otherwise painful day.

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I really feel that was the most painful race I've done yet. The first stage was much hillier, and the second 5km longer, and all the hitches made it feel like one darn long day in the saddle. But despite my placing of 35th overall, I still managed to come second in the Opens and win the Open Maverick series, putting me into a more positive frame of mind. Now it's time to get my darn wheel replaced (there's no hope of fixing it) and let my body recover.

It was a learning experience for me today. There were times that I thought to myself I wanted to give up racing due to how painful it can be, but I know that in a couple of weeks I'll be wondering when the next one is! Even the bad days on the bike are a Window of Escapism, that gets me away from the (mental) pain of electrical engineering.
As Paul wrote in Romans 5:3-4, "We should glory in our sufferings, because we know suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope." And now is the time to sit back and think about 2015, but after all I've 'persevered' through and the 'character' I've built this year, I have high hopes for next year, even if the exact details are uncertain.