Race of Attrition

At·tri·tion (noun): a reduction or decrease in numbers, size, or strength; a wearing down or weakening of resistance, esp. as a result of continuous pressure or harassment:

I witnessed something truly amazing on Saturday. Aaron and I drove down/over to Cambridge, New York for the Balloon Festival Classic/Battenkill Valley Grand Prix.

Lets do some math: 92 degrees + 84 miles of rolling/hilly terrain + 53 racers in Aaron's category, totaling pure insanity. I was in the feedzone waiting for our team to come by to get their "feed" (click here for information on feedzones.) Each lap was about 21 miles, for a total of 4 laps. The first lap everyone came by looking good, not too tired, but the weather was a huge concern for me. It was not only hot but really muggy too.

The second lap was a bit more labored for the racers and most of the men took a feed after this lap. Aaron lagged a bit and some racers were dropping out of the race. The heat (and the terrain, in my opinion) was unbearable, and I was concerned. One of his teammates, who had "a mechanical", joined me in the feedzone to assist in feeding the team and told me that Aaron had dropped out. I kept waiting until I knew for sure he wasn't in the race. A few minutes after the field passed the feedzone I saw Aaron from a distance coming up over the crest of the hill. He pedaled over to me and took a feed. I was so elated to see he was still in the race. He took his bottle and I yelled out after him as I was overwhelmed by his strength.

The third lap came, 63 miles into the race, with a lot of cyclists not able to finish. Aaron came over the crest of the hill again to get his feed. I proudly handed him another bottle. By this time, I was feeding him and two of his teammates, 3 others had exited the race. Aaron was behind, but still going.

On the forth lap, one of his teammates came by, both he and Aaron behind the field. When his teammate crested the hill, basically crawling and soaked with sweat but upright none-the-less, he called out "I am so glad to see you, I could just kiss you. I didn't think anyone would still be here waiting to feed me." I gave him his bottle and told him I was proud of him and that he was almost done and could finish. He pedaled off toward the start finish and I yelled again, encouraging him as he climbed a hill.

I waited for Aaron. It was hot, I was burned, I had been standing in the same spot for about 4 hours filling water bottles, collecting water bottles; concerned for Aaron and his teammates. It was really hot. I got word from a race marshall that most racers were done, and only about 25 of the registered 53 were due to complete.

I still didn't see Aaron. Did he drop out?

I continued to wait, I wasn't going to leave until I knew the team was done, and mostly that Aaron was done. There was no way I was going to leave my post and have Aaron come over the hill, exhausted and thirsty, and me not be there.

Finally, amoung a group of cyclists, I saw a familiar figure and knew immediately by the stature and movement that it was Aaron. Aaron has very unique movements when he cycles; unmistakable. He came by me looking tired, but still smiling. I gave him his final feed, told him he could do it, and he took off for the finish. I was, for some reason, overwhelmed by emotion.

I am a strong woman. I am persistent. I am stubborn. If I put my mind to something, I do it; there is no discussion. There is NO WAY I would have been able to finish that race. I would have easily given up. Aaron, kept digging, just wanting to finish. Approximately 53 racers started 25 finished.

I knew absolutely nothing about cycling before I met Aaron. Now, I have so much admiration/adoration for the sport and the athletes. Absolutely amazing.

I know there is no way I have accurately translated what happened at that race on Saturday, how proud I was of Aaron to finish, regardless of his time. Seeing him crest that hill every lap, pushing through the pain, reminded me exactly why I respect him as an athlete. I just wanted to write that here.

The race was that of attrition. There were amazing athletes from all over New England competing; it was hot, it was humid and I am in awe of their passion and persistence.