Full Circle: The Empty Ending.

My bikes chain clattered and ground, after having slogged through a sticky peanut butter smear called Maggie Jones Road. The rain still poured down on me, and I rode trough the puddles, hoping to wash some of the mud off me and my bike. My chain would be fine, but it needed oiling when I stopped. Ahead of me was Paisley, which had a store. I needed some solid food, I needed coffee, and I needed to take a break and get out of this rain and warm up a little. I was in a deep calorie hole, soaking wet, and pretty cold, and given the heavy rain, I was thinking of finding somewhere to hide out and sleep for a while.

I was enjoying best the Paisley Mart could offer, a dry place to eat some food, while apologizing to the nice lady for dripping all over the floor, and hanging out by the two crockpots of boiled peanuts which were throwing off an impressive amount of warmth. I was just glad it was a little mom and pop store, and they were not running the air conditioning very cold.

It didn’t look like this, the rain was falling in sheets, but I found this pic on the internet.

Shortly, I was joined by a very wet Charles and Brett, the pair I had traveled with the day before from Clermont to Apopka. We ate, and dripped on the nice lady’s floor, and I wolfed down a second nasty microwave hamburger, and bought a few more snacks for the road. We discussed options. I told them my plan was to find a spot to pitch my tarp and maybe sleep an hour or two. They talked about hiding out on the covered overhang at the post office across the street, but they had no camping gear, it was going to be cold and wet for them. After some back and forth they found out about a little hotel in the next town.

I knew I needed to at least get out of my wet clothes and in my sleeping bag to get my body temp back up. I knew that this was pretty much the last stop before the finish. What ever I needed to do, I had to be refueled with food and drink before I left. Next up was Paisley trails, some long sandy roads in Billy Bay, the water pump at Farles Lake, and then the long hilly dirt roads of the Ocala National Forest.

Off we went to Umatilla, miles off course, to a little motel. The promise of the comfort of a motel overpowered my sense of adventure and courage once again. We cleaned up and changed into whatever clothes we had and went in search of some dinner.

In the morning, at a convenience store, the guy at the counter was a nice Indian man and he was interested in the trip we were on. As we got ready to go, he came outside to wish us well and see us off, and wave goodbye. I thought it was a really nice gesture. A remnant from another time, when traveling was still seen as an adventure. It reminded me that I was indeed on a grand adventure, even if it was just following a route. I was seeing things I’d never seen, and facing difficulty and challenges I’ve never faced. For me this was exploring, but I wasn’t just exploring this little bit of Florida, I was exploring what I’m made of. What I’m capable of. I’m exploring the very edges of my courage, my endurance, my resourcefulness, and my resilience. Each time I go a little further, and I often fail, but each time I grow, and get stronger, and acquire new skills. I learn new lessons, and most importantly peel back facade of my life, the routine, the unimportant, and the superfluous parts of myself to reveal what’s at my core.

A while ago I bought a wrist band being sold to help the family of an endurance racer that recently passed away, Ray Porter. I didn’t know the man, and had only seen his name mentioned here and there, and I still don’t know much about him, except he was well respected and admired.

I think when I first saw “Never Stop Pushing”, I thought of it more in the athletic sense, as a cyclist. Pushing yourself to be stronger and faster. But I realized that I was very wrong, that what it meant for me, was to keep pushing the envelope of what I’m made of. To push past my fears, past what I see as my limits, to continue to grow, and define my character. To keep pushing into adventure.

We headed back to where we left the course, towards Paisley. I knew before we even reached the Paisley Woods Trails, that my legs still had not recovered and that my seat had also slipped back again. I was already struggling to keep up. I told Charles and Brett to go on ahead without me, that I couldn’t keep riding at their pace, and I wished them well, for a second time.

I stopped trail side to fix my seat with the Allen wrench I had bought to replace my lost bike tool. After I sliding the seat back forwards, as I was tightening the front bolt, the head of the allen wrench broke off in the bolt. I tapped on it a few times, but realized it was stuck and I would not be able to fix my seat if it moved
I caught back up to Brett and Charles who had stopped to pick up a pannier bag one of the bike tourist, Marc and Renny had dropped. We carried it up to the paved road and stashed it behind a tree. Marc had given me his phone number at the river crossing, so I could send the pictures I took. We texted him the location so he could retrieve it later.

We all said goodbye a third time. I knew I needed to keep my pace down a bit if I hoped to finish. I really still wasn’t doing very well, my hamstrings were very sore and my legs overall were weak. Every time I pushed myself beyond a certain pace my energy level would quickly drop off, and I could not sustain it. I knew this last bit was going to be all about keeping a steady manageable pace.

Through the Ocala National Forest, I was slow moving, but I kept rolling steadily. The hilly roads were in good shape after the rain the night before and I wondered if I should have kept riding, on through the night. I imagine the roads would have been at least as bad as Maggie Jones Road, but it wouldn’t have been impossible. It also began to dawn on me that I was going to finish this today, that all this was coming to an end. As miserable as a lot of it was for me, I wasn’t ready for it to be over.

I thought about that piece of limestone, I had picked up as a souvenir, but then it occurred to me that limestone is not a very hard stone, and it will crush it fairly easily. When you put it down on a road it crushes and it get packed solid by the load it carries, and the rain beating on it, and the sun baking it, until it’s almost as hard as concrete. Like that limestone, I think I need to get crushed and rained on and beat on a little bit in order to become something harder, more durable, and more useful.

The first bit of civilization I saw coming out of the Ocala National Forest, was the Solid Rock church, another milestone on this route. I knew that I was closing in on my goal of finishing. I think there was some pretty farm country along the way, but honestly I was just focused on the road, and getting down it.

Marshal swamp trailhead was the final milestone for me. I had ridden the last ten miles of the route as a little 20 mile shakedown on Thursday afternoon before the race, and it felt nice to be back somewhere I recognized again.

With all the rain, the swamp lived up to being a swamp. I rode straight through the flooded trails, with no regard for staying dry or clean. While dodging a downed tree limb, I managed to hook a vine on my handlebars instead. I went down easy, so it was no big deal, but it made me more aware that in a few minutes I would be on the Baseline Trail, then back in busy traffic, and would need to be really vigilant and focused.

Back on pavement, and within about two miles to the finish, I thought about the finish. I knew not to expect anything at the finish. It was just a bike shop parking lot, I was actually lucky that the bike shop would be open. “The Finish” to me was just an empty place, there was nothing at the finish for me, nothing physically or emotionally. Whatever I found, whatever I was looking for, whatever I needed, was out there on the trail. This finish was just a hollow place, and a part of me felt kind of hollow when I got there, like I had been emptied out.

Charles and Brett, the pair I rode with a good bit were still at the bike shop, and it was good to see them again, and once again we said farewell. I took my picture in front of a Greenway Cycles, and turned off the SPOT GPS tracker  from Trackleaders.com who provide real time tracking of the racers. I got several congratulatory messages from friends and family, and even other racers I barely knew, which meant a lot to me. I ate several ice cream sandwiches at the bike shop to celebrate, but it did nothing to quell the feeling of emptiness I had. This race was over, and surprisingly, I wasn’t ready for that.

A friend had invited me to stay the night at his house, so I showered and drove over to the East Coast. I was grateful for the gift of his hospitality, especially a long soak in his hot tub. It gave me some time to relax and decompress, before returning back to the regular world. We talked about the race, and he listened without ever criticizing the decisions I made. He gave me one of his paintings, “The Bannock Road” from a series he did inspired by his Tour Divide Race.

I was the last official finisher, and I believe set a new record for the longest finish. I wasn’t very pleased with that, but took my “Lantern Rouge” title with good humor. While I would like to have finished stronger, I wasn’t disappointed with finishing.

I told myself in Marshal Swamp, that I would be happy with my finish, that I would be happy and not nitpick and tear down what I had accomplished, (at least not for a few days.)

I was surprised when I saw the official results. Out of the 41 entrants, 3 finished but missed sections or control points, 21 did not finish, 1 did not start. That left 16 of us who completed the entire course. I was the very last in, the Lantern Rouge, at 3 days, 10 hours, and 7 minutes.

There are a lot of things I figured about what works, and doesn’t work for me. Anytime I’m riding with, or around, endurance racers I listen to everything they say. I look at their bikes, their gear, what they eat, what they wear. Not all of it is useful to me, but I take whatever I can use. Most of the guys and girls are so friendly and welcoming, and freely share what they know. It’s a great bunch of people and I’m honored to be included.

As I shed clothes towards the end I simply tossed them on top of the handlebars. There was still half a ham sandwich in my vest pocket, and I ate it after a shower.

My Salsa El Mariachi performed flawlessly, aside from the seat issue, which nearly caused me to quit the race on the first day. There aren’t any big changes I would make to my gear, except towards the constant goal of carrying less and lighter. There is much I would do differently as far as how I did the race, but I feel that for the most part, given the problems I had, I made the decisions I needed to make to ensure I finished the race, even if it was last.