Don’t throw the squeaky bike in the woods

It was the one race the kids could actually attend. The one race with all logistics aligned for competition, tear-down, visiting friends, seeing family…and the one race when my bike decided enough was enough.

5 miles into the course I felt some resistance on my rear wheel, and the bike started making a terrible squeaking sound. I pulled to the side, wondering if something was jammed, or caught between the brake rotors. I waved a support vehicle past, figuring it wasn’t a flat tire and I knew they couldn’t offer much other help. Hopped back on, made it another 200 yards and pulled off again. Another support vehicle stopped for me and we stood staring at it. There was nothing visually wrong with it, it’s like taking a kid to the doctor who magically is well the morning of the appointment.

“So you said it’s squeaking? You pulled over because it’s squeaking?”

“It’s a really bad squeak?” I knew how pathetic that sounded, “and the wheel isn’t turning easily and look, try to touch the axle, it’s too hot to touch!” I knew something was causing friction.

We pulled off the rear wheel and as I stood there looking into the hub, pieces of the cassette fell off into my hand. “Well that’s not normal,” we both agreed.

I was frustrated, and angry, and annoyed, “everyone is passing me!” I yelled at the road, while the poor mechanic stood next to me and wrung his hands.

“I can load it into the car, or put it on the bike rack?” He offered.
*pause*
“Where do you want me to put it?”

“In the woods.”

We carried it across the road and strapped it onto the back of his SUV. I stood next to the passenger door and stared at the seat.

“Hop in, I’ll take you back to transition,” he said.

I stared at the seat some more.

“Um. Are you okay?”

“It’s just. As soon as I get in this car. My race is over. Right now, my race isn’t over. But when I open that door. It is.” I was feeling very sorry for myself.

“Honey. Your bike is in pieces. Your race is over.”

He dropped me at the race entrance and I had to walk a couple hundred yards from the road to transition, carrying my bike frame over my shoulder and my rear wheel in my other hand. It was during this odyssey of self pity that I heard someone calling my name. Hubs had appeared! With the kids! Who were expecting to cheer me on to the finish line!

I tried to view it as an opportunity to model something for my kids. I kept telling myself “this is an opportunity to show disappointment in grace.”

It was fun to hang out and show them around the transition area, in prep for their race the next day. After a little bit they headed out with Hubs to spend the weekend with our sweet friends in Nova. I have a deal with this racing company that if I stay after the race and tear down the course I get a discount on race registration fees. So I was planning to join them later in the day. Having to sit around and watch other people finish knowing the manual labor that was ahead of me was salt in the wound. But overall, the experience was great for my mental resilience. Pretty much every race I compete in, there comes a point where I want to quit. From heat, pain, soreness, you name it. It’s usually on the run, okay, it’s always on the run! Sitting out of the race for reasons I couldn’t control really motivated me to do away with that bad attitude. The next race I do, I’m going to be grateful for the pain on the run, because it sure beats sitting on the sidelines with a broken bike.

I was able to take my bike into my favorite triathlon shop and the mechanic there was gracious enough to put it on his stand right away and diagnose the problem. Apparently, over time, the rear axle worked its way out of my frame far enough to dislodge the brake pads and loosen up the entire rear hub. The continual force of riding it without ever tightening it caused the cassette to loosen and come apart.

When I handed him my bike I said, “just tell me there’s no way I could have fixed this roadside.” I would hate to throw away a race for a matter of mechanical ignorance. He agreed it was a shop fix for sure.

The kids race was ideal! Super cute crowd of kids at a neighborhood pool and you could tell the guy in charge was their local swim coach. He did a great job walking them through the different phases, how to transition, and where the course went. The kids did great! It sort of broke my heart watching them work so hard on the swim, but also that’s how I feel when I swim so I was right there with them. They both agreed biking was the best part and their worst part was forgetting to grab a cup of water at the aid station because “we really wanted to throw the cup on the ground after we drank it!”

After the race we adults celebrated by getting coffee. Hubs said, “I’ll meet you at Starbucks.” (we were in two separate cars due to the weekend logistics previously referenced) I sent him this screenshot.

It is not like this where I live. I did not know where to go.

Next week I reveal my new logo and spiffy race kit custom designed by Starlight Apparel! (this is exciting. be excited) It’s also well timed because the pond we swam in for the failed race was so brown it stained my old suit. It went from white to beigeish tan.