Last weekend was a 4 lap cyclocross race. I got lapped during my 2nd lap while the experts were on their third. I thought they were going to pull me off the course at the end of that lap so I rode it as hard and fast as I could. My legs were ready to fall off, my lungs burned and I was nauseated. I crossed the start line and no one said anything, except “one lap to go”. Crap. I suffered through one more lap that was mentally anguishing, but physically, it had already been spent.

Today was #3 in the series, a hilly 2 lap 5.5 mile course. The experts started maybe 10 minutes ahead of the rest of us, so guess who got lapped by the experts as she was descending the hairy hilly loggy rooty downhill? that’s right, me. I stepped off the trail about every 200 yards to let a pair of riders pass, then rode a bit, stepped off, drank, rode, off, drink, ride, off, drink, ride, etc,etc. I was mentally finished and my legs felt like sticks of lead from the lifting and running this past week. “One lap to go” simply rattled inside my brain and I pulled off into the grass to watch the real riders finish.