This will be my last post before the 14th annual 24 Hours of Moab. I'm psyched, but also a little nervous and a little anxioux. I feed off of the emotions though. Besides, if you go in to a race like this with a false sense of reality, your doomed from the start. I know what to expect, I know what I'm about to have to endure, and I'm ready. I love it. It's why we do it. It's twisted, I know, but if you're reading this post then you probably understand. If not, well there's really no point in trying to explain it.
The solo field is stacked, 60 + riders. Many of which are elite. My buddy Len sent me an email to wish me luck...well, it was more of a "go kick some ass" email as opposed to a "good luck" email, but he did say something that has really stuck: "you're just as tough as those other cats". He's right, and in 2 days I'm going to prove it.
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It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat. -Theodore Roosevelt
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