An oldie but good. I need more verbage on this page, so I may as well add some old race reports. This one was a huge deal for me.
I think the alarm must have gone off at 3:30 am, but it was probably 3:50 by the time Siri, Sandra, Erica or myself decided to budge. My nerves were full of excitement and I had no idea what the day had in store for me. One thing was for sure- I was ready to face it.
On the caravan over to Larry and Penny Park, we body-marked each other with the markers they threw in our race packets (ghetto). Mead, Jill, Siri and Schlegel teased me for noticing the wind. Crap…wind. Lots of it. The area we are cycling in today is pretty wide open and I am already wishing there were hills instead of wind. You can't predict the wind. I set up transition and I am loving it - I am surrounded by Team Z. I'm getting too familiar with the bathrooms as the race start isnearing. Errrr my stomach is killing me today. The walk over to the swim is long and full of little pieces of glass. I decided to walk back with Sandra to pick up a pair socks to use when I run to T1 and also to get buttered up so I can squeeze into that damn wetsuit. My biggest pain is going to be this wetsuit; I get serious muscle fatigue in it. Back at the swim start I have 10 minutes and 10 teammates stuffing my butt into that wetsuit. 7:15 and I can feel my heart racing. We give our last hugs and wish each other a fun day. I'm next to Jenn, my running and biking buddy. "See you in T1! And on the course!" 7:20 comes and goes. The swim in the crystal clear water is 2 loops. After my first loop I am thrilled to see Betsy, Brian and Ed. My left bicep is dead. I swear I should just cut these sleeves off. After the 2nd loop, I pop out of the water and Ed high fives me and asked about the suit. Damn the suit. Betsey hollers to me that I look strong. I give them the peace sign and I am off to T1. In transition I am greeted by a wetsuit stripper - unbelievable. I am not sure if this is legal, but hey, the penalty I could receive would be equivalent to how long it would take me to take the wetsuit off by myself anyway, so what the hell. I'm gearing up and I see Sandra who then takes off with me. It is always so thrilling to run into your Team. I run out past the bike mount and had to be reminded to mount the damn thing. Believe it or not I am excited to see the scenery. We are warned about the intersections close to the park and almost had to stop due to traffic at 127 Ave. and 216 Street. As the miles go on past that intersection, FL becomes more and more dusty, desolate, flat and windy. At about 8.5 miles in (on 167 Ave.) a cop at an intersection shouts to us to watch for tacks on the road. Huh? Did he say tacks? I recalled a triCat once telling me about a race where he had encountered a section where someone had intentionally placed tacks on a race course. As I am pondering I notice bikers down. Flats! Oh crap!!! *****A large patch of shiny tacks*****I swerve to miss it, only to strike another patch, catching five in my tire. Tic tic tic tatic tatic tic tic tic ta-tic ta-tic. The entire past YEAR flashes before my eyes. All I can think is why me? Why now? I spot another biker with a flat and pull over near him. There is no space to change this thing and I am pressed against a guardrail. I don't want to be in the other racer's ways. "Gawwwd That must suck" one passing biker had to point out to me. I am composed. I can't waste any time, but still I can't help but wonder why would someone intentionally do this? Maybe it was competitors? FOCUS HELEN.
There isn't time to ponder and cry about it. I knew this was going to be a long day and 15 or 20 minutes wasn't going to make a difference in the grand scheme of things. So I plucked out the 5 tacks and began changing the flat. I haven't flatted in a long time, so my tubes that were in my bag were "old"…they seem to have melted or something because at this moment I can't blow air into the fresh tube. This isn't happening. I decide to proceed, placing the tube in the tire anyhow and just pray for no twists. In the time I had been there, Sandra, Siri and Justin had passed me - pumped me up to know they were so close - and I wasted no time warning them about the tacks. The clock was ticking and the tube wouldn't go in twist-free. Moments later after my umpteenth try a cyclist yells to me "he's coming…he'll be here in a minute". Who? When all of a sudden I see this pickup truck practically do a 180 (aka Siri u-turn). It was a bike mechanic! I admit I cried when I saw him. Up until he arrived, I figured that I wasn't going to get my tire inflated. What took me 20 minutes took this guy maybe a minute to get me back up and running.
After the dude gave me a push and I was on the road again, I had a chance to witness all of the casualties of the tacks. I yelled to them like the other riders had yelled to me that "He is coming". It is only minutes later when…tic tic tic tic tic tic…. You've got to be kidding me! I try to ignore that annoying ticking and hope maybe it is just in my head, but it's not. I turn the corner onto 264 Street before I realize I have gone completely flat and can hardly move. Damn. I must backtrack and walk my bike back 1/8 mile to the corner since I don't quite know where I am on the course and I don't want the dude to miss me if he comes back. I know I need help, cause this tube won't inflate w/o a bike pump. I meet up with another flatter who simply needed CO2. I offer mine, but he refuses to take it…like he figured since I was on my second flat I was bound for more trouble. A new bike mechanic shows up and we are free wheelin' in no time.
Moving again, I couldn't help the mix of emotions and thoughts running through my mind. Why would someone do this? This sucks…my bike time is going to be permanently recorded forever as sucky. Anyone who ever looks at the race results will think I was a lousy rider. They'll never see that I lost 30 minutes to 2 flats. FOCUS. I had to stop the negative thoughts and get my game face on. It was all happening for a reason I decided…I had to find the good in al that was happening. Like taking 5 tacks so others didn't have to. I told myself that stopping gave me a moment to get my heart rate down. I was now pulling deep from within myself to stay on track and couldn't help but think of the pep talk Erica gave me at Dewey (Thank you, twin!). I was determined to finish and rock this thing like you helped me to do at Dewey.
Ahhh the aid station. I have been longing for you…cold water and food, but I don't want to completely stop until my second loop time around. I think I hear Betsey and Dena cheering. Woo -hoo I cheer to them! In the meantime the bottle toss volunteers miss me and I receive no water.
I'm almost done with my fist loop and at 202 Ave. and…tic tic tic tic tic tic tic tic tic tic.......
Ok, now I am so far past the tears and feeling bad for myself at this point. No one is going to f-ing believe this. I tell myself that now I have a cadence meter that I can listen to as I read my MPH and distance…how cool, right?? I was out of tubes and hadn't seen support in awhile, and at this point I had learned that I can probably get a mile or two out of the tube if I don't remove the tack, so
that is what I am going to attempt. As the air slowly seeps, I hear a familiar voice behind me, "YEAH! Go TNT! GO HELEN!". It was Jim Raurer. What a comfort to hear his voice. I explain that I am riding on my third flat, I'm empty handed and need a tube. Jim impressively pulled out this only tube w/o stopping and passed it off to me a million times better than any of those bottle toss kids at the aid station could have. I pulled over and in the blink of an eye, there was that first mechanic. "I can't believe it's you again" he says, "lets hope I don't see you again until the finish line". I snagged an extra tube for the road. And as it turned out it's lucky I did.
Once again I was heading toward the aid station. When I got there, I made a pit stop and then instead of heading in the direction of the
rest of the racers, I had to head back out to complete the second 15 mile loop. All of the race support and officers flag me down to tell me I was going the wrong way. Nope. I still had another loop. The way they focused in on getting my number made it dead clear that I was that last rider out there…and far behind the rest. As I am riding down the long, lonely stretch I wonder why I didn't just quit and ride back with those bikers who were finishing their second loop. I can see for miles that it is completely empty out there. I feel desserted. Geeze, quitting would be so much easier right now.
As I passed through each empty intersection, the police would call out to me, "Are you 848?!" Yup…that's me. And as I confirmed and
looked back to make sure each cop had heard me I would watch them pack up their cones and call it a day. It's a pretty low feeling, knowing you are in no way physically spent, but you are in fact the dead last person out there. I had to go back to my distractions
because making a race time was never a goal for me in this race and now was not the time to get caught up in where I would place.
Came back to 202 Ave. - the intersection I had picked up the tacks for flat #3. There are no cops there and a pickup truck is doing a rolling stop. I signal to them so I can have the right-if-way through, but they never stop rolling. I quickly swerved and hit a gravel patch w/ hidden tacks, scoring a 4th flat. Here I was w/ no support and no other bikers, completely alone and no one to turn to. Tic tic tic tic tic tic tic. And I only thought to myself BRING IT ON!
My clock is now ticking to the beat of this tack and the minutes to the bike cut off are nearing. I decided I couldn't stop even though I had a spare because the back tire change would definitely put me in after the bike cut off and I had a better chance of riding this thing in flat and making it. Crunch…my rim…rrrr…I know that'll be expensive.
I call out to cops at the following intersections, but was told they can't or won't call anyone for me. The aid station - completely cleaned up - duh, all cops clean up as soon as 848 passes by.
I was back on 264 when I noticed that the cops were now speeding ahead and collecting at the next intersection. My heart sunk and my eyes filled w/ tears. This was my lowest point as I was sure they we gathering to tell me I was not going to make the bike cut off. As I passed through, I realized they were only gathering block traffic for me as I approached busier intersections. It was maybe quarter to 12 and I had formed an entourage of cops behind me, including two motorcycles. One rode by my side to ask if I needed water or food. I say no. Debating whether or to tell him, I explained that I'd just gotten my 4th flat and was riding my rim. He tries to persuade me to pull over. I'm sorry, I'm not stopping unless you find my bike mechanic, and either way I am finishing this race even if I have to
carry this bike in to transition in pieces. I love this guy. He sees my determination and works with me to get the mechanic called out. I am riding on my rim moving 8 MPH against some wicked headwind when I spot an older woman, maybe in her 50's…AH! I am not
the only one out here! As I came up on her with my entourage I asked how she was and tell her about my flats. "Now I can appreciate that!" she says. I will see you in T2 I told her. I soon approached another biker, a young guy. My entourage drops back to trail them.
I am hammering away 12 miles on this flat when I hear insane honking behind me -. YOU AGAIN!!!?? The bike mechanic dude stops and fixes me up. Then the two motorcycle cops pull over to talk to me. I jump up and down as the two other "competitors" (as the motorcycle cops called them) pass by. "Don't let them close that run course -I am going to finishing this race!" "We know you will", the cops respond like proud papas.
As I take off, I cheer on the 2 riders as I pass them and now a third biker- "Show us how its done" they yell to me. The mechanic meets me at every intersection on 216 Street. I had no clue I was that close to T2, but then I noticed that swarms of cops had gathered to close down that first busy intersectional - all for me. I MADE IT!! But it is 12:20…what does that mean?! In the distance I see the orange cap, grey shirt, red bike….it's Ed…"Yo Zerkle!! I had 4 freaking flats!! I'm just coming in from my bike and I am starting my run NOW(?!)! Don't you let them close down this course! I am finishing this thing today and they are going to have to catch me if they want this chip back!"
After jumping out of T2, I meet up with Jim and Ed. Jim - Thank you for keeping me focused. My stomach hurt so bad at that point and you helped me keep my game face on. Ed - I'm really at a loss for words. You were totally in my shoes at that moment. Only a simple 13 mile run I thought as I took off with Jim. I was minutes in to the run when I encountered the Official on the red Trek,
He warned me about the 2:30 p.m. first gate cut off. I must have reminded him and every water stop a hundred times that I was only on my first loop. Please leave out 2 cups of water if you have to close down.
It felt like only minutes before I was running down that lonely canal and noticed Ed, Brian and Terry. This was this first time I could eat anything (oranges). "7 or 8 miles left and I am a half ironman"!! On the second loop - I made the 2:30 first gate cut off at 2:10 and met up with a man from Ecuador (on his 3rd half IM). He was so inspiring and wouldn't let me stop moving. "You will never forget how you feel when you cross that line." "I'm not gonna let you walk, you are going to be first across that line." The man on Trek comes around again. "I've got good news and bad news. Good news: you aren't last anymore. Bad news is, you got to make that 4 pm cut off at the second gate". Dude - I'm climbing that thing if you lock it. Watch me. I've got a few miles left and I spot many of you like Siri, Jess and her monkey hat, and Durst on that out and back. Back at
the lonely canal, my running buddy and I spot half of the team - you all totally knock me over with emotions. I can smell the finish line.
That last 1/4 mile lasted so much longer than that bike ride….
My buddy from Ecuador was right. I will never forget the way I felt when I crossed that finish line. I completely lost it and could not stop hysterically crying and hyperventilating. It was the most beautiful feeling ever.
So much happened to me that day emotionally, physically, mentally...you name it...and I all I can really say is I would NEVER trade it or wish for it to have happened any other way. I would not trade it for a chance to have placed higher. Not even first place. Not even for a slot in Kona. I wouldn't have had that day any other way. What should have been the worst race ever was the absolutely the BEST FREAKIN' RACE EVER for me!!!!!! Ed - Thank you!!! Thank you to my Team. To be honest, knowing you all were there waiting for me is
what got me through. Words just can't explain what I felt knowing you all were there.
One more thing…Norman Stadler - bring it on!
On the caravan over to Larry and Penny Park, we body-marked each other with the markers they threw in our race packets (ghetto). Mead, Jill, Siri and Schlegel teased me for noticing the wind. Crap…wind. Lots of it. The area we are cycling in today is pretty wide open and I am already wishing there were hills instead of wind. You can't predict the wind. I set up transition and I am loving it - I am surrounded by Team Z. I'm getting too familiar with the bathrooms as the race start isnearing. Errrr my stomach is killing me today. The walk over to the swim is long and full of little pieces of glass. I decided to walk back with Sandra to pick up a pair socks to use when I run to T1 and also to get buttered up so I can squeeze into that damn wetsuit. My biggest pain is going to be this wetsuit; I get serious muscle fatigue in it. Back at the swim start I have 10 minutes and 10 teammates stuffing my butt into that wetsuit. 7:15 and I can feel my heart racing. We give our last hugs and wish each other a fun day. I'm next to Jenn, my running and biking buddy. "See you in T1! And on the course!" 7:20 comes and goes. The swim in the crystal clear water is 2 loops. After my first loop I am thrilled to see Betsy, Brian and Ed. My left bicep is dead. I swear I should just cut these sleeves off. After the 2nd loop, I pop out of the water and Ed high fives me and asked about the suit. Damn the suit. Betsey hollers to me that I look strong. I give them the peace sign and I am off to T1. In transition I am greeted by a wetsuit stripper - unbelievable. I am not sure if this is legal, but hey, the penalty I could receive would be equivalent to how long it would take me to take the wetsuit off by myself anyway, so what the hell. I'm gearing up and I see Sandra who then takes off with me. It is always so thrilling to run into your Team. I run out past the bike mount and had to be reminded to mount the damn thing. Believe it or not I am excited to see the scenery. We are warned about the intersections close to the park and almost had to stop due to traffic at 127 Ave. and 216 Street. As the miles go on past that intersection, FL becomes more and more dusty, desolate, flat and windy. At about 8.5 miles in (on 167 Ave.) a cop at an intersection shouts to us to watch for tacks on the road. Huh? Did he say tacks? I recalled a triCat once telling me about a race where he had encountered a section where someone had intentionally placed tacks on a race course. As I am pondering I notice bikers down. Flats! Oh crap!!! *****A large patch of shiny tacks*****I swerve to miss it, only to strike another patch, catching five in my tire. Tic tic tic tatic tatic tic tic tic ta-tic ta-tic. The entire past YEAR flashes before my eyes. All I can think is why me? Why now? I spot another biker with a flat and pull over near him. There is no space to change this thing and I am pressed against a guardrail. I don't want to be in the other racer's ways. "Gawwwd That must suck" one passing biker had to point out to me. I am composed. I can't waste any time, but still I can't help but wonder why would someone intentionally do this? Maybe it was competitors? FOCUS HELEN.
There isn't time to ponder and cry about it. I knew this was going to be a long day and 15 or 20 minutes wasn't going to make a difference in the grand scheme of things. So I plucked out the 5 tacks and began changing the flat. I haven't flatted in a long time, so my tubes that were in my bag were "old"…they seem to have melted or something because at this moment I can't blow air into the fresh tube. This isn't happening. I decide to proceed, placing the tube in the tire anyhow and just pray for no twists. In the time I had been there, Sandra, Siri and Justin had passed me - pumped me up to know they were so close - and I wasted no time warning them about the tacks. The clock was ticking and the tube wouldn't go in twist-free. Moments later after my umpteenth try a cyclist yells to me "he's coming…he'll be here in a minute". Who? When all of a sudden I see this pickup truck practically do a 180 (aka Siri u-turn). It was a bike mechanic! I admit I cried when I saw him. Up until he arrived, I figured that I wasn't going to get my tire inflated. What took me 20 minutes took this guy maybe a minute to get me back up and running.
After the dude gave me a push and I was on the road again, I had a chance to witness all of the casualties of the tacks. I yelled to them like the other riders had yelled to me that "He is coming". It is only minutes later when…tic tic tic tic tic tic…. You've got to be kidding me! I try to ignore that annoying ticking and hope maybe it is just in my head, but it's not. I turn the corner onto 264 Street before I realize I have gone completely flat and can hardly move. Damn. I must backtrack and walk my bike back 1/8 mile to the corner since I don't quite know where I am on the course and I don't want the dude to miss me if he comes back. I know I need help, cause this tube won't inflate w/o a bike pump. I meet up with another flatter who simply needed CO2. I offer mine, but he refuses to take it…like he figured since I was on my second flat I was bound for more trouble. A new bike mechanic shows up and we are free wheelin' in no time.
Moving again, I couldn't help the mix of emotions and thoughts running through my mind. Why would someone do this? This sucks…my bike time is going to be permanently recorded forever as sucky. Anyone who ever looks at the race results will think I was a lousy rider. They'll never see that I lost 30 minutes to 2 flats. FOCUS. I had to stop the negative thoughts and get my game face on. It was all happening for a reason I decided…I had to find the good in al that was happening. Like taking 5 tacks so others didn't have to. I told myself that stopping gave me a moment to get my heart rate down. I was now pulling deep from within myself to stay on track and couldn't help but think of the pep talk Erica gave me at Dewey (Thank you, twin!). I was determined to finish and rock this thing like you helped me to do at Dewey.
Ahhh the aid station. I have been longing for you…cold water and food, but I don't want to completely stop until my second loop time around. I think I hear Betsey and Dena cheering. Woo -hoo I cheer to them! In the meantime the bottle toss volunteers miss me and I receive no water.
I'm almost done with my fist loop and at 202 Ave. and…tic tic tic tic tic tic tic tic tic tic.......
Ok, now I am so far past the tears and feeling bad for myself at this point. No one is going to f-ing believe this. I tell myself that now I have a cadence meter that I can listen to as I read my MPH and distance…how cool, right?? I was out of tubes and hadn't seen support in awhile, and at this point I had learned that I can probably get a mile or two out of the tube if I don't remove the tack, so
that is what I am going to attempt. As the air slowly seeps, I hear a familiar voice behind me, "YEAH! Go TNT! GO HELEN!". It was Jim Raurer. What a comfort to hear his voice. I explain that I am riding on my third flat, I'm empty handed and need a tube. Jim impressively pulled out this only tube w/o stopping and passed it off to me a million times better than any of those bottle toss kids at the aid station could have. I pulled over and in the blink of an eye, there was that first mechanic. "I can't believe it's you again" he says, "lets hope I don't see you again until the finish line". I snagged an extra tube for the road. And as it turned out it's lucky I did.
Once again I was heading toward the aid station. When I got there, I made a pit stop and then instead of heading in the direction of the
rest of the racers, I had to head back out to complete the second 15 mile loop. All of the race support and officers flag me down to tell me I was going the wrong way. Nope. I still had another loop. The way they focused in on getting my number made it dead clear that I was that last rider out there…and far behind the rest. As I am riding down the long, lonely stretch I wonder why I didn't just quit and ride back with those bikers who were finishing their second loop. I can see for miles that it is completely empty out there. I feel desserted. Geeze, quitting would be so much easier right now.
As I passed through each empty intersection, the police would call out to me, "Are you 848?!" Yup…that's me. And as I confirmed and
looked back to make sure each cop had heard me I would watch them pack up their cones and call it a day. It's a pretty low feeling, knowing you are in no way physically spent, but you are in fact the dead last person out there. I had to go back to my distractions
because making a race time was never a goal for me in this race and now was not the time to get caught up in where I would place.
Came back to 202 Ave. - the intersection I had picked up the tacks for flat #3. There are no cops there and a pickup truck is doing a rolling stop. I signal to them so I can have the right-if-way through, but they never stop rolling. I quickly swerved and hit a gravel patch w/ hidden tacks, scoring a 4th flat. Here I was w/ no support and no other bikers, completely alone and no one to turn to. Tic tic tic tic tic tic tic. And I only thought to myself BRING IT ON!
My clock is now ticking to the beat of this tack and the minutes to the bike cut off are nearing. I decided I couldn't stop even though I had a spare because the back tire change would definitely put me in after the bike cut off and I had a better chance of riding this thing in flat and making it. Crunch…my rim…rrrr…I know that'll be expensive.
I call out to cops at the following intersections, but was told they can't or won't call anyone for me. The aid station - completely cleaned up - duh, all cops clean up as soon as 848 passes by.
I was back on 264 when I noticed that the cops were now speeding ahead and collecting at the next intersection. My heart sunk and my eyes filled w/ tears. This was my lowest point as I was sure they we gathering to tell me I was not going to make the bike cut off. As I passed through, I realized they were only gathering block traffic for me as I approached busier intersections. It was maybe quarter to 12 and I had formed an entourage of cops behind me, including two motorcycles. One rode by my side to ask if I needed water or food. I say no. Debating whether or to tell him, I explained that I'd just gotten my 4th flat and was riding my rim. He tries to persuade me to pull over. I'm sorry, I'm not stopping unless you find my bike mechanic, and either way I am finishing this race even if I have to
carry this bike in to transition in pieces. I love this guy. He sees my determination and works with me to get the mechanic called out. I am riding on my rim moving 8 MPH against some wicked headwind when I spot an older woman, maybe in her 50's…AH! I am not
the only one out here! As I came up on her with my entourage I asked how she was and tell her about my flats. "Now I can appreciate that!" she says. I will see you in T2 I told her. I soon approached another biker, a young guy. My entourage drops back to trail them.
I am hammering away 12 miles on this flat when I hear insane honking behind me -. YOU AGAIN!!!?? The bike mechanic dude stops and fixes me up. Then the two motorcycle cops pull over to talk to me. I jump up and down as the two other "competitors" (as the motorcycle cops called them) pass by. "Don't let them close that run course -I am going to finishing this race!" "We know you will", the cops respond like proud papas.
As I take off, I cheer on the 2 riders as I pass them and now a third biker- "Show us how its done" they yell to me. The mechanic meets me at every intersection on 216 Street. I had no clue I was that close to T2, but then I noticed that swarms of cops had gathered to close down that first busy intersectional - all for me. I MADE IT!! But it is 12:20…what does that mean?! In the distance I see the orange cap, grey shirt, red bike….it's Ed…"Yo Zerkle!! I had 4 freaking flats!! I'm just coming in from my bike and I am starting my run NOW(?!)! Don't you let them close down this course! I am finishing this thing today and they are going to have to catch me if they want this chip back!"
After jumping out of T2, I meet up with Jim and Ed. Jim - Thank you for keeping me focused. My stomach hurt so bad at that point and you helped me keep my game face on. Ed - I'm really at a loss for words. You were totally in my shoes at that moment. Only a simple 13 mile run I thought as I took off with Jim. I was minutes in to the run when I encountered the Official on the red Trek,
He warned me about the 2:30 p.m. first gate cut off. I must have reminded him and every water stop a hundred times that I was only on my first loop. Please leave out 2 cups of water if you have to close down.
It felt like only minutes before I was running down that lonely canal and noticed Ed, Brian and Terry. This was this first time I could eat anything (oranges). "7 or 8 miles left and I am a half ironman"!! On the second loop - I made the 2:30 first gate cut off at 2:10 and met up with a man from Ecuador (on his 3rd half IM). He was so inspiring and wouldn't let me stop moving. "You will never forget how you feel when you cross that line." "I'm not gonna let you walk, you are going to be first across that line." The man on Trek comes around again. "I've got good news and bad news. Good news: you aren't last anymore. Bad news is, you got to make that 4 pm cut off at the second gate". Dude - I'm climbing that thing if you lock it. Watch me. I've got a few miles left and I spot many of you like Siri, Jess and her monkey hat, and Durst on that out and back. Back at
the lonely canal, my running buddy and I spot half of the team - you all totally knock me over with emotions. I can smell the finish line.
That last 1/4 mile lasted so much longer than that bike ride….
My buddy from Ecuador was right. I will never forget the way I felt when I crossed that finish line. I completely lost it and could not stop hysterically crying and hyperventilating. It was the most beautiful feeling ever.
So much happened to me that day emotionally, physically, mentally...you name it...and I all I can really say is I would NEVER trade it or wish for it to have happened any other way. I would not trade it for a chance to have placed higher. Not even first place. Not even for a slot in Kona. I wouldn't have had that day any other way. What should have been the worst race ever was the absolutely the BEST FREAKIN' RACE EVER for me!!!!!! Ed - Thank you!!! Thank you to my Team. To be honest, knowing you all were there waiting for me is
what got me through. Words just can't explain what I felt knowing you all were there.
One more thing…Norman Stadler - bring it on!
