I told you how I signed up for the Corporate Challenge, right? Well, yesterday was the bike race. A 12-mile course was marked out at the Las Vegas Motor Speedway, on the track and all over some parking areas as well.

As the race approached, I knew I wasn’t ready. A co-worker and I have been riding at the Equestrian Park on Saturdays, but that’s only a 2 mile course, and we’ve only been there 3 times. (That’s 6 miles, for those keeping count.) I also went on a bike ride around my neighborhood last week, which was probably 3 miles or so. Since I started “training” for this race (and by training I mean dusting off my bike, pumping up the tires, and getting my overweight, out of shape ass on it), I probably have about 10 miles under my belt. Yeah! I’m ready for a 12 mile race!

Or not.

I was hoping I’d get sick or something over the weekend. I purposely didn’t take any allergy meds so I could help this along. I thought of other ways to legitimately get out of having to ride, because I didn’t want to just flake out. However, my allergies would not cooperate. I even discussed it with my co-worker, who was also riding, and she said to just go slow and have fun. So slow it was.

I started out near the back of the pack, because it took me that long to get checked in and get my bike tagged. Since I was so far back (I think there were about 200 riders), I was pretty beat by the time I reached the start line. Then we went around a curve and hit a nice head wind. Oh, that was fun. Seems like no matter which way the course turned, there was a head wind. I don’t know how the race planner figured that one out, but it was brilliant in an evil sort of way. Then we went up a hill. I had to walk my bike, and by this point I was last. The pilot car bringing up the rear was right behind me. That’s a bit unnerving, riding your bike and having an unmarked van follow you like that.

Anyway, I kept going. I got to the top of the hill, got back on my bike, and just kept pedaling. I pedaled under the grandstand, around a bend, down a hill, across the parking lot, around the bullring, and pretty much wherever I saw cones that marked the course. I was kind of wishing that there were mile markers, because I had no freaking idea how far I’d come or how much further there was left. Somewhere along the way I lost all feeling in my crotch. All I can say is thank goodness I have a cruiser with a nice big seat, because I don’t think I would have made it that far otherwise.

When I got back on to the racetrack, the course attendants were cheering me on. One of them rode alongside me, encouraging me and telling me I could do it. They pointed out the finish line. Woohoo! The end was in sight! I pedaled my little heart out, sucking air like a dying fish, and made it across the line. I wasn’t last – I think there were a couple people after me, but I know that for a long time I was last and I don’t remember passing anyone along the way, so maybe they got lost. But I finished. I finished a 12 mile race, a longer distance that I’ve ridden collectively in my entire adult life.

I was still out of breath when I got home, and I don’t know what my time was, but I figure it was just over an hour. No matter, I was glad that I finished before dark, and I did. I finished the race.