Coast Ride: Day 3, Getting Lost is Sometimes a Blessing in Disguise

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Morro Bay, CA to Goleta, CA 

Things were just off right when I woke up for day 3. It had been another night of tossing and turning. My energy was low; no matter how much I ate it didn’t feel like it made a difference, and to top it all: girl problems.

We pushed off at 7:00 am again and I could tell almost immediately that it was going to be a long day. There was no way that I would be staying with the main group or even my smaller group. So I tried to suck it up and just do it. Sometimes, this is easier said than done.

Fortunately, in the first 20 miles I started riding with a girl named Mary who was on the Fusion team (another team doing Coast Ride. They even had sponsors.). She told me that she was from somewhere that had absolutely no hills and the previous day going through Big Sur had destroyed her legs. So we stuck together and took turns pulling in a mini pace line. BP, being the amazing individual that he is, took pity on us and made sure that we got along on the right path.

Then, we hit a pretty steep but not very long hill. Mary just cried out “I can’t do climb that!” And I told her, “Yes, you can. If you need to, just stand up and grind up the hill. You can do it.” I think I was convincing both of us. The hill was only what I can describe as a mini heart attack.

We got to stop around mile 30 for water and food. I shoved a bagel down. But I still just wasn’t feeling it. I actually got to ride with my coach, Chris Hauth, for a little bit following the stop. He asked me how I was doing, and I blatantly lied that I was doing fine. It was taking everything inside me to just keep going. And then, he rode off, I had lost Mary and I was alone again.

I went into a really dark hole at this point and had to fight off just stopping and sobbing on the side of the road multiple times. My knee also began throbbing. Then, when things didn’t seem like they could get any worse, I got lost. I immediately realized something was wrong when I started entering wine country which looked like a scene straight out of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. SAG had to come get me. I was defeated and pissed.

Then I realized that it was a Monday. I had chosen to take this day off to go on this somewhat ludicrous yet incredible journey. I had to pull my shit together. I have learned this lesson over and over again through Ironman training, and in life. You have to go inside yourself to pull yourself out and turn things around. So I took a seat in the van, had a LOT more food, drank a couple bottles of water and finally, for the first time, felt like I could actually finish the day out.

All in all, I missed out on 20 miles of that last day, but it was worth it. I would have quit at 75 if I had not gotten lost. So, sometimes when you get lost on your journey, it allows you to reevaluate what you are doing and realizing why you are doing it.

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