by Julie Cannon
She had managed to avoid Shannon for the past four days. When she did catch a glimpse of her on the track or on the expo grounds, Caroline changed her course so as not to run into her. Her voicemail was full of messages from Shannon, going from eight or ten a day to now just one or two. At the first sound of her voice, Caroline hit the erase button and moved on to the next.
Shannon’s words had stunned her. She’d expected any explanation other than the one she got and she was still shell shocked. Shannon loved her? Was in love with her? After all this time? So much had happened between them, to them, and with other women. How could she be? She was a totally different person than the spineless teenager who almost blindly followed her father’s instructions. She was a grown woman, with different thoughts, beliefs, and goals in life. Or was she?
On their second night here, Fran had finally pried out of her exactly what had happened between them. As a good friend should, she let Caroline vent, spew, cuss, and cry before putting in her two cents’ worth. Fran had admitted she had no idea what to say or do so she simply tried to keep her busy and had also acted as a lookout.
But now as they readied themselves at the starting line, Caroline knew Shannon was behind her. She didn’t turn around to confirm her suspicion but could feel her gaze in the pinpricks on her back. She didn’t know what to say to her. Shannon had declared her love and Caroline had casually walked away. She had thought about Shannon constantly since that afternoon and still had no clue what to do, where Shannon fit in her life. Or even if she did at all. But she did know what she needed to do today, right now. She needed to win this race. She had a game plan and she needed to stick to it. Shannon would only be a distraction to her wining the championship. I will not let that happen, she repeated to herself.
She checked her gear one last time. She had an extra bike tube in her pack along with a tire pump and four energy bars, and her CamelBak was full to the brim with the energy drink she needed to fuel her body. In the fanny pack strapped under her seat she stowed her repair kit, her bike wrenches, tube extractor, and the pocket knife she never left home without. In the pocket of her bike jersey was a pack of bubble gum and a tube of sunscreen ChapStick. Her face, arms, and the back of her neck were coated with SPF 50 sunscreen.
The race organizers intentionally started the race in the late afternoon. The excitement of the beginning and end of the race necessitated daylight hours. The riders usually made it through the darkness with minimal mishaps, but it was when dawn broke the next day that fatigue and lapses in concentration set in, resulting in falls, crashes, and flaring tempers.
It was 3:59 p.m. and Caroline was ready. She adjusted the fit of her gloves, the fit of her helmet on her head, and the snugness of her Oakley sunglasses protecting her eyes. The clock ticked down; thirty seconds to go. Caroline said a quick prayer. “God, give me strength and watch over all the riders today.” She took several deep breaths, and as the starting horn sounded, the final race of her career began.
*
Shannon was breathing much too hard and she knew it. She tried alternating her pace, slowing down, shifting gears. But she was still breathing too fast for this early in the race. The first three hours had been filled with jockeying for position around other slower, less experienced riders. Except for the burning in her lungs, she had settled into a comfortable rhythm, completing lap after lap without incident.
She glanced at her odometer secured just to the right of her left handlebar grip. She was struggling. Something was not right. Her gear was correct, her bike in top condition, but there was something wrong with her. Ever since she spilled her guts to Caroline, who had walked away without saying anything, she had felt like her world was collapsing around her. She couldn’t keep any food down and battled waves of dizziness. It was as if her body was in shock.
Shannon expected the years of training to take over once the race began, shutting out everything except the feel of the course under her saddle. But for the first time in her racing career, it didn’t. When the horn sounded, she hadn’t overexerted to get ahead of the pack. She was a seasoned enough racer not to get caught up in the adrenaline of the start of the race and burn herself out too soon. She had laid back, assumed the pace she needed to take. The trail was marked in half-mile increments and she knew the pace she wanted to achieve for maximum results. It was a long twenty-four hours, and pace and tempo were important. So far, she was on track, if not slightly behind. If she found herself ahead, that would account for some of the fatigue she was feeling, but that wasn’t the case. Rising out of her saddle gave her legs the extra push they needed to traverse a particularly nasty steep stretch of trail. She maneuvered around a rider repairing a flat tire and crested the trail. She barely noticed the breathtaking view of the Australian countryside before downshifting for the descent.
Shannon reached into the pocket in the back of her bike jersey and pulled out an energy bar. She used her teeth to rip off the end of the wrapper, then squeezed the coffee-colored bar out of the paper like a Popsicle out if its protective wrapper. She was careful to take only a small bite. She chewed it thoroughly and washed it down with her sport drink in the bottle cage between her legs. Again and again, she repeated the maneuver until she finished her energy bar and one complete bottle of her drink. She hoped she was able to keep it down.
After a sharp right hand turn, Shannon emerged onto a flat, dirt-packed road most people would consider a fire road. No wider than ten feet, it was used for fire suppression crews to get their machinery to the point of a fire as quickly as possible. It was on these roads that Shannon had first learned how to mountain bike and it was on these roads that Shannon had ridden the week before the championship series began. The roughness of the road, the dirt kicking up between her legs, the grit layering over her face, her eyes, and in her mouth was comforting. It was what she knew. It was what she was and she struggled to find her groove.
Squinting against the setting sun, Shannon saw Caroline fifty yards ahead. She had kept an eye on her lap after lap, stopping and resting when she did. Faster and faster she pedaled, and within minutes she was inches behind her. Five more strokes of her strong legs brought Shannon directly beside her.
“I have to talk to you,” Shannon said between gulps of air. Caroline turned her head and by the shocked look on her face had not expected a conversation from anyone, let alone her main competitor.
“Are you out of your mind?” Caroline pedaled faster and Shannon easily caught up.
“I must be.” She thought she had convinced herself not to approach Caroline. Her pride could only handle so much and another rejection wasn’t included. But here she was, in the middle of the final race in the world championship, trying to talk to her. Another indication she had it bad for Caroline.
“I am not having a conversation with you. Get the hell out of here. Get the fuck out of my life.”
Shannon tried several more times to talk with Caroline, but each time was met with staunch silence. Finally deciding their conversation would have to wait, she let up on the pedals and let Caroline slowly extend her lead.
*
“Bike left.” Caroline shouted the universal notification to riders ahead that there was a faster rider approaching. The line of riders stretched out in front of her for at least a mile, a cluster here, a group there, a single rider once in a while, but more often than not, at clusters of riders taking advantage of the drafting effect provided by the rider ahead of them. She hadn’t seen Shannon since she tried to talk to her over an hour ago.
She passed a rider on a red Trek, downshifted, and increased her pace. She was twenty yards behind another woman in a bright yellow riding jersey and a hot pink helmet and as they approached a tight left turn, Caroline watched as if in slow motion. The rider’s back tire lost traction and spun out from under her. She went down hard on the dirt. Caroline was far enough behind not to get caught up in the crash and asked, “You okay?” as she passed.
“Fuck yeah,” came the repl
y. If the rider had been injured Caroline would have flagged down one of the race officials at the next mile marker.
She made it through the turn followed by another series of left and right turns, all the while pedaling faster and faster. She had to get away from Shannon. She hadn’t been surprised when she pulled up beside her, but was absolutely stunned when Shannon started talking. Did she really expect her to carry on a conversation while in the middle of a race? What did she imagine she’d say? That she loved her too? Hell, up until a few days ago she didn’t even like her, let alone love her. She certainly wasn’t going to try to figure it out in the middle of the most important race in her career. Was it a ploy to make her lose concentration so she could have some advantage over her? Who knew, and frankly, Caroline told herself, she didn’t care. She couldn’t care, at least not right now. She had a race to win.
Her legs pushed and pulled against the pedals, the memory of the thousands of hours of training that led up to this point making them work. She released her grip on the handlebar, grabbed the tube of her CamelBak and stuck it between her teeth all in one smooth motion. She took a couple of short sips making sure she didn’t choke on the cool liquid, giving her body the chance to absorb the much needed nutrients.
Passing a few riders struggling to climb the steep trail, Caroline’s lungs burned and her legs ached. But she wasn’t worried about it. She had planned her race in just this manner and so far, everything was going as planned. Downshifting into third gear, Caroline completed the ascent over sharp rocks and obstacles. The trail leveled off and she downshifted, increasing her speed and continuing to maintain control of her bike. She’d been riding for three hours and twenty-nine minutes and she knew she was near the end of the lap.
The road was rough. Her legs and arms acted like shock absorbers getting a complete and thorough workout. It was for this reason she pushed herself so hard in the gym, almost to the point of exhaustion. At this critical point, she had the stamina and her muscles the strength to continue.
She had spent months with her trainer Carlos, lifting, sweating, and running, all the while hating him with one breath and thanking him with the next. The mental toughness was something no one could train her in except herself. Other riders meditated or hired therapists to help them achieve the mental toughness they needed. Caroline simply listened to her body.
Prior to each race, she memorized the course so that she knew exactly where every turn, dip, and obstacle was and planned her attack accordingly. When her hard work and training were in sync, she rode her best race. Sometimes she was not the winner or even second or third, but her time was respectable and most importantly she had read her body and the course perfectly. And that’s what she was striving for.
The riders were on their own during the race. Other than medical services, they could not receive any help or assistance. Any repairs needed had to be completed by the rider only and no coaching was allowed. For the entire twenty-four hours it was a test of mental toughness. Mind over matter when your brain was screaming to your body to slow down, shut down, to stop. It was mental toughness and tenacity that would win this race. Caroline had it, and she knew it.
Night fell as Caroline pulled into her rest area. Based on her race plan, this was the time she had scheduled to take a break, rehydrate, and refuel. As she nibbled on an energy bar she snapped her light in the bracket on her handlebars and one on her helmet. The NiteRider would illuminate the ground in front of her for about twenty yards, giving her enough time to adjust her line as darkness closed in. Her night gear in place, Caroline lay on her back, elevating her legs. Her feet were swollen and her back hurt from the hours of constant beating. Her plan to rest and refuel for thirty minutes was scuttled by a familiar voice above her head.
“Caroline.” Shannon’s voice pleaded.
“Go away. I have nothing to say to you. Especially now.” Caroline hadn’t expected Shannon to follow her into her tent. The shadow from the small lantern made Shannon appear larger than she was. Shannon didn’t move.
“How else do I have to say it to you, Shannon? I don’t want you in my life. You are not good for me. You are not the kind of woman I need even if I wanted you. And I don’t. We hooked up again and it was like old times, but that’s all it was. A mutual thing. Now leave me alone.” Caroline practically shouted in frustration. She was trying to win the biggest race of her career and she was having a lovers’ quarrel instead. She grabbed her helmet and pulled her bike through the small opening and into the night.
“Fuck!” Caroline shouted into the darkness. She hadn’t had enough rest and when she hit the dirt after missing the turn she was tempted to lie there. Repeating the curse, she checked to make sure she wasn’t seriously injured and slowly got to her feet. Using the light on her helmet, she surveyed the condition of her bike. The only damage appeared to be a slight tear on the edge of her seat and she remounted intending on finishing the lap.
How could she be so careless? She was thinking about Shannon and not paying attention to the road in front of her and look what it got her—a fresh batch of road rash on her leg, dirt down the front of her shirt, and thoroughly pissed off.
Lap after lap she rode, one hour melting into the other until finally, the sun began to creep over the horizon. She hadn’t seen Shannon all night and had no idea if she was ahead of her in the lap count or not. At noon, the current standings would be posted and Caroline knew that’s when the race really began.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Shannon was exhausted. Her legs felt like rubber, her eyes burned, there was a painful cramp in her right hand, and she had lost feeling in her ass hours ago. Forty minutes remained in the race and she was behind Caroline by half a lap. It wasn’t an insurmountable lead, under any other circumstance, but this was anything but. She didn’t think she had it in her to chase after Caroline, let alone catch her. She was physically drained and mentally numb. She was pedaling by rote, braking more often now than in the first forty minutes of the race. Her lips were chapped, dried blood snaked a path in the mud caked from knee to sock, and the gash at her elbow dripped blood onto her thigh. She was a mess and it was only by sheer guts that she was able to stay in the saddle.
She hadn’t seen Caroline since just after two this morning and had stopped looking for her long before that. Caroline had made it painfully clear that she wanted nothing to do with her, and as much as it hurt, Shannon let her go. She wasn’t going to chase after someone who didn’t want to be caught. She had said her peace. The rest was up to Caroline.
*
Don’t fall, don’t trip, don’t stumble, the cadence in Caroline’s head echoed with each step. Her head was spinning, her heart racing in direct competition with the shaking of her legs as she climbed to the top of the winner’s platform. The crowd chanted her name as she finally arrived at her destination.
This was more than about winning, much, much more. It was the achievement of everything she had worked a lifetime for. Millions of beads of sweat, thousands of hours of practice, and untold sacrifices to get to this point. She was the best in the world. She had proven it. To herself, her critics, and her adversaries.
She was finally here. She should be euphoric, ecstatic, on top of the world. It should be the happiest day of her life. But all she felt was empty. Hundreds of people surrounded her, but she was alone, totally alone when it really mattered.
She scanned the crowd searching for the only person that mattered. She recognized many familiar faces, but none contained the crystal clear eyes that she desperately wanted to see. Sometime during the last hours of the race, when her body was exhausted, her mind unable to fight the fatigue, her heart had taken over.
She loved Shannon. It was that simple. It was so simple she couldn’t even see it until her cluttered mind was empty. She heard Shannon’s words in her head and very easily could repeat them word for word. She had been in love with Shannon in high school but had attributed it to a rite of passage everyone went through at that age.
And as she had always thought, that love was supposed to be intense, fleeting, and as a result, painful. It had been all three but also all wrong. Her feelings for Shannon had been intense and painful, but Caroline realized they were not fleeting.
The way they had avoided each other for years, never sharing more than a few words when their two different racing tours coincided kept her feelings for Shannon buried. But they were just below the surface all along, and after that night, that wonderful night, could never be buried again. Her name was called and Caroline stepped forward.
After the pomp and circumstance of the awards ceremony, the interviews and countless pictures, Caroline was finally alone in her hotel room. Her medal hung heavy around her neck and it clunked loudly as she dropped it on the oak table. She grabbed a bottle of cold water from the minibar and kicked off her shoes. There was a knock on the door when the lid on the bottle cracked open. Her heart jumped and the first name that came to mind was Shannon. Having finished fourth, she didn’t need to be at the awards ceremony and she wasn’t. Other than their discussion in her tent last night, Caroline had successfully avoided Shannon for most of the week. She prayed her luck had not run out. She still had no idea what to do with her feelings for Shannon going forward.
Looking through the peephole, Caroline sighed, unlocked, and opened the door. “Hey,” was her greeting as Fran walked into the room.
“Hey yourself. Where’d you run off to? We looked for you at the party. Your parents sent me on the search mission.” She hesitated. “You okay?”
Caroline didn’t want to get into it with Fran. She was physically tired, emotionally exhausted, and for one frightening moment she thought she was going to cry. She’d made her views known, told Shannon to leave her alone, never speak to her again. How could she go back to her now? She was going to cry over Shannon Roberts. Been there, done that, and she was going to do it again and again.
