“Everyone winds up somewhere in life. Wind up somewhere on purpose. You are the only one who can determine where that is.”
I had two more stops at my chase truck. The next one was 737 at Santo Tomas. The course wound up another section of mountainous terrain above the ocean for 15 miles or so, where I could look down and see the Pacific. Down to the coastline again – so beautiful but, I couldn’t look; I had to focus on the course.
Turn back inland with switchbacks to get to elevation again, then sweeping dirt roads. When I crossed mile 707, the math was easy. 100 miles to go. It sounded like nothing. But it was something.
When I pre-ran I came around a switchback at speed and had to drift to the left side of the road. Around the corner, a pick-up truck was coming. I couldn’t make the turn tighter without crashing, so I drifted all the way to the edge of the cliff figuring the driver could go by with me on his right. His brain didn’t figure that out and he came right at me with his brakes locked up on the dirt. We both stopped, my front wheel 12” in front of his bumper. I was looking right through the windshield. He had a choice look for me. Of course, I would have lost the contest.
I kept my encounter in mind as these roads were open to the public during the race. I descended into Santo Tomas and onto Route 1 – the paved road on the Pacific side of Baja. I turned left and saw my truck. Race mile 731.
731. That’s a big number. I was 30 hours in and unexpectedly, I felt good.
I was riding for my life.