The twilight lay over everything like a blanket, and the
morning was just cold enough to cause goose bumps. We crammed into a tuk-tuk,
all four of our bikes wedged against each other. I was both nervous, and
excited. Not the best thing to feel immediately after waking up, but I was
pumped, regardless of my half-consciousness. The previous night we had gone
into Siem Reap, and I rented an amazing bike for only eight dollars.
As we got close, Angkor Wat came into view, breathtaking in
the pre-dawn light. We arrived, as close to the starting line as we could get,
mounted our bikes, and slowly pedaled to a place where we could rest. We got
there in perfect time to watch almost 200 riders embark on a 100k journey that
would last them the greater part of the morning. We waited for the last dregs
of the 100k bikers to pass the starting line; then we watched over 300 more
riders line up, and then the pistol, and they were off. 30 kilometers in their
future, their own personal glories waited for them. Finally, it was our time to
gather at that fateful line on the ground. I pulled my bike up, in front of the
rest of the 17k riders, and readied myself to leave 100 people in my dust. Everyone
became quiet, so quiet it seemed that even the early morning birds and insects seemed
to silence. The pistol cracked, and the people in the front, including myself,
raced away in a charge of adrenaline.
The cold morning air burned my eyeballs as we raced forward,
the thrill of the start of the race still burning through our veins. I slowly
advanced past everyone in front of me, until I was in the midst of the 30k
riders. I had found a reasonably fast, comfortable pace that I knew I could
keep up for hours. I raced forward until I ran into someone I knew: we stayed
at the same guesthouse, and we both volunteered with the same organization. I
said “hello” as I passed him. He responded with “I thought you were doing the
17k route.” I told him I was, and he responded with words that made me want to
kick myself, even today: “you missed a turn about one and a half kilometers
back.” No longer was I in front of everyone in the 17k race, but I was over
half a mile behind them! I immediately turned around, kicked my bike into its
top gear, and sprinted back a long ways. I looked for maybe five minutes, but I
couldn’t find the turn I had missed, so I turned around and decided I was going
to bike a 30k. I got back into my previous rhythm, right foot down, left foot
up, left foot down, right foot up. Over and over and over and over and over….
The race was through the Angkor Wat temple complex, and
everywhere you looked, there were beautiful things to see. The race went on,
and the entire time I was by myself, an independent individual, moving at my
own pace, relying on no one but myself; I reveled in my independence. After about
20k or so I ran into my mom, and our friend Jessika, who was biking with my
family. They had taken the correct route, and so I decided to ride with them
for a ways. Their pace was much more relaxed than mine, and we probably covered
in 45 minutes what I could have covered in 15. It was nice, but eventually I
decided that I wanted to get back in the race, so I shot ahead, back to my
usual pace. It was a few more kilometers to the finish line, and as I came
around a bend, and saw the huge crowd of people, I went into my top gear, and
sprinted as fast as I possibly could to the end. My final time was one hour and
31 minutes to bike about 26 kilometers.
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| The Family & Todd |
