Good Guys Sometimes Finish Last. Or Not at All.

If you follow me on twitter, you've already read this blog; live, not memorex. And 140 characters at a time.
I'm just now getting to the place where I can emotionally write about Preston's latest race without crying, and it's a little premature to say that I won't. The race took place in McMinnville, Tennessee, about 4 hours from home. We made a weekend of it, staying at the local Best Western, which was filled to the last room with cyclists. There was so much lycra on so many men, the locals, I'm sure, spent an extra hour at church that Sunday, praying these people would come toward the light.

Anyway, it was a family event, so my dad and Vic's parents joined us for 2 days of racing. We chose not to enter Preston in the 13 mile road race. It was on open roads, so that means cars were allowed on course, and again, he was the youngest racing cyclist.

Preston's goal for the day was to conquer the time trial. The time trial is a beautiful event to me. Vic never has liked them; one, because they are so painful, and two because there's no scampering for position, and no strategy to attack the field. He's such a guy. Anyway, this time trial started on an 8% grade, no flat spot to get going, just a straight-up hill. Preston was the 3rd to take off and he immediately struggled with finding a cadence he could handle.

We jumped into the van and started driving up the mountain alongside him. It was then that I looked up and saw this monster that loomed in front of my baby. My eyes felt like they were seriously bugging out. Going so slowly, our minivan had issues with gears and I could imagine what it felt like to climb this mountain on a bicycle. "HOW LONG IS THIS MOUNTAIN? HOW LONG IS THIS TIME TRIAL???" I shouted, already knowing. 2.7 miles. 12% grade in places. WHAT? He was almost going backwards as it was.

He pedaled continuously for over a mile. He stopped, drank some water and used his bronchial inhaler (yes, he would have tested positive). He had at least 12 juniors pass him on their way up; each one mumbling encouragement to him even as they were in agony. It started sprinkling at this point, and I parked the van and went to him and said, "Listen, we had no idea this mountain was this steep. Let's just get in the van and tackle this bear again next year, ok?" He looked straight at me and said, "I do not want a DNF (did not finish) after my name. I can do this." When he asked how far he had gone, his Daddy, trying to be positive, said, "You are one-third of the way through it, Buddy." I knew immediately when Preston realized that meant he had two-thirds left to ride when he grimaced. I shot his Daddy a look from hell.

So, he got back on, (again, no flat spots to get a running start), and turned the pedals as hard as he could. If you've ever seen someone start pedaling up a steep hill, they go so slowly that the bike wobbles terribly. It's also very easy to crash this way. Cyclists will tell you it is safer to crash while going fast than while going slow. His dad ran alongside him, talking to him, encouraging him.

I was in the minivan, followed by my dad and father-in-law, both squalling at this point. He got to the halfway point of the race, and had to get off again and walk. I'll never forget the picture they made. Preston, walking that tiny Felt up that mountain, and Vic in compression socks, walking alongside him in the rain.

There was thunder all around, and the rain began coming down harder. They kept walking, although I knew Vic was trying his best to convince Preston to abandon this race. When cloud-to-ground lightening started, they moved over from the guard rails but kept walking. At this point, an executive decision had to be made. He hadn't been passed in several minutes so I knew they were no longer starting cyclists due to the weather. My father-in-law looked ready to whip both his son and grandson if they didn't get in the vehicle. At about that same moment, I saw Preston running toward the van, with Vic behind him carrying the bike. Preston got inside the dry vehicle and with a quiver of his bottom lip, absolutely broke my heart.
I can't remember everything he said, but most of it centered around now having a DNF after his name. He looked right in my eyes and said, "I visualized myself walking across the finish line with my bike. I saw it with my own eyes. I could have finished, I know I could have."

At that exact moment, he became background noise, as hail the size of quarters started pounding the vehicle. I'd like to think it was God, sending an exclamation point for the executive decision to pull this 9-year old's butt out of that race.
He straightened up a little after that, realizing that he would have been out in that mess if we hadn't pulled the plug. We talked about pros who don't finish races, whether it is due to mechanicals, illness, crashes, or sometimes weather.
Our biggest concern was if he would still want to race the criterium the next morning, and he was all about it. It rained all night and the course was very damp. There were many crashes through the corners, but Preston took it easy and went safely around each one. He was last out of 14 juniors. But he finished and was tickled pink to have done so.
The weekend was a rough one for all of us, though Vic rebounded beautifully, and wound up on the podium for his Cat 5 crit!

I've looked back at that weekend and thanked God that He turned on that storm. I know it's awful, but I was miserable watching my child walk that mountain and push that bike. I know that moments like that build character. I also know that moments like that break a mother's heart.

The tweets I got that day were amazing, as they always are when Preston races. I always show them to him afterwards and he loves the encouragement and the fact that strangers are cheering for him. He was somewhat worried what his "Twitterati" would think of him not finishing. I explained that they realized it was our fault for making him leave the race and that all of his "fans" wouldn't ride in lightening either. That seemed to ease the burden of the DNF a little.
I don't know for sure, but I think Preston will go back and whip that mountain some day. I just hope the weather cooperates.