That race sucked. Well, when I say sucked, it wasn't an unmitigated disaster, but my first 24hr sure as hell didn't go as planned.
Felt good leading up. Loaded up with 2 packets of hot cross buns over Thursday/Friday. Drank myself silly with water and/or staminade while I was at it.
"Sighting" lap Saturday morning went well. I was a bit concerned of being over-geared, but that proved unfounded.
2pm Race start and I found myself riding with the only 24hr solo female and she was a tiny bit quicker than I wanted to be. Took quite a bit of self talk to let her go.
Two hours on and things were starting to settle. Four hours in and I'm starting to find it hard. Six hours and I'm cooked. Climbing in first gear like I've been out there for 18 hours.
Struggled on until 10pm and Mrs George tells me I'm 1.5 hours behind the guy in front and 1.5 in front of the guy behind. Right, I can add a 10 minute rest to each pit stop.
Did that until the half way point at 2am and decide I'm done. I'm having an hour sleep. That became two, then before I know it, it is 6am and I'm sitting on a camp chair in the tent freezing my nuts off. Go back out, convince myself to climb back on the bike (wasn't easy). I roll down to the start line, but have the presence of mind to see how I handle the very easy hill back to the top, before I attempt the techy stuff on this half of the lap.
Nothing.
Even taking into account I was freezing there was just no push left in the legs. And definitely not 8 hours worth of dodging 12hr racers in the second leg of their race, or 6 hours kids on a rager.
Just bubu'd it and it turns out the antibiotics I was on last week had destroyed any chance I had of taking in the food I'd been trying to drown myself in.
So, completely devastated at the DNF. My first at this type of event. But not disgraced, 130km over the twelve hours. It took the next guy until 8am to catch my lap count. And Evie still loves a descent.