I knew the XTERRA West Cup Championship would be a long, painful, and grueling race but I didn’t expect it to start for me five days before the cannon even sounded. On Monday afternoon I decided to take my new mountain bike for a quick spin through the nearest canyon. On the way back I lost my forward momentum while going across a footbridge. I fell to the inside of the turn and went off the bridge and onto some large rocks. To add insult to injury my bike decided to land on my head and chest. I tried to breathe and was fearful that I had collapsed a lung. After a few seconds I realized that I could breathe and my next thought was that I had violated every safety rule there is for bike riding. I had no phone, no one knew where I was, and I had seen no one in the canyon. I quickly decided this was going to turn into a problem for me.
I had to get the bike off of me and get out of the ditch. I don’t know how I did it as I was trying to keep myself calm. I allowed myself a few seconds of freaking out and then got to work. The first thing I clearly remember after getting out of the ditch is leaning on the bike. I tried to mount the bike and felt pain shooting up and down the right side of my body. I had landed directly on my hip and now the pain was making me unable to lift my right leg up. I knew I couldn’t stay there, I had to at the very least get back to the city streets. I told myself if I made it the street I could at least flag down a car. I had to use both hands to lift my leg over the top tube of the bike. It was some of the worst pain I have ever experienced but it allowed me to get moving. I had to cross two streams where I had to repeat the process of throwing the leg over the bike, needless to say it was not pleasant.
I finally made it to the hill, which led to the city streets. I pushed the bike up the hill and started pedaling towards my house. I knew it wasn’t far and kept thinking that I could make it home and then deal with the injuries at that point. After the longest mile and a half of my life I got through my front door and collapsed on the couch.
About eight hours later I emerged from the hospital with lots of bruises, cuts, and severely beat up muscles. Luckily there were no fractures but the doctor did say that I should not race on Saturday. It took me until Wednesday before I felt that I could walk somewhat normally. Of course that plants the seed that maybe I can still do the race. Obviously I must have hit my head harder than I thought.
Friday morning came around and I am sitting at the hotel in Las Vegas. I’ve decided to try and pre-ride the bike course. I’ve only told one other person that I am going to do it due to the fear that I will be utterly humiliated by either a monster course or the fact that I currently feel I am physically unable to do this race. I know the first major XTERRA of the year is usually a rough race and I doubted this would be the exception to the rule.
The bike course seemed to be pulled straight out of a NASA mission. Nasty short climbs led the way to fast descents through terrain better suited to Hawaii than to the middle of the Vegas desert. Several times I thought they must have manufactured several of the terrain features, as they just seemed surreal. The “river” of jagged rocks was nearly impassable and I decided the safest bet was to carry the bike across. After a few more hills the course designed by the devil opens up to beautiful single track around Lake Las Vegas. A final incline brought me back to the transition area and I realized that I might be able to pull this off.
Over the next few hours I decided that I would do the race and my goal would be to finish and not kill myself in the process. I knew it would be difficult and would not be the most pain-free endeavor ever, but I felt I had it in me to complete the race.
Like the night before most of my races I got very little sleep. Thoughts of the bike course kept going through my head. The part of the race that I had always felt most confident about was giving me fits. Would I be able to handle the climbs and descents?
Race morning dawned perfectly. It was warm with a light breeze. I drove over to transition and racked the bike near many of the other MelRad team members. We joked and chatted about what lay ahead. Right away I felt better about what lay ahead. I set all my gear up and grabbed the swim gear for the ride back to the swim start.
The swim start was one of the nicest I have seen. A bunch of us sat around chatting on the lounge chairs just off the beach. With about 15 minutes to go we all started to suit up and jump in the water. XTERRA made a last minute change to the swim course due to the winds, which had steadily increased. The new route would let us swim with the wind until the final turn. I waved to my cheering section/photographer and headed back to the shore.
The cannon roared and the pros were off. Three minutes later I started my race with about half the other athletes in the race. The back and hip were feeling good due to the support provided by the wetsuit. I enjoyed the swim and felt fairly good until the turn towards the water exit. I felt like every time I went to breathe I was getting slapped in the face by a wave. I pushed through and got to the shore and headed towards transition. I actually had a pretty decent swim time but it would unravel a bit in transition.
I had a very hard time getting the wetsuit off. The hip and back were screaming at me as I tried to bend over and pull off the wetsuit. I was forced to sit down. I watched as teammates and other athletes came in after me and left before me. Finally I got the wetsuit off and suited up for the bike ride. I got a big boost of inspiration when I pulled out my Team Kyle jersey and put it on for the first time in a triathlon. On went the CamelBak and I headed off to face the bike course.
The first lap of the course wasn’t too bad for me. About halfway through I ran into some teammates near the aid station and got to talk with them for a bit as we rode. After the descents we got strung out a bit so I was on my own again. As I said the first lap wasn’t so bad but there is a section where you enter a wash that is filled with loose gravel and dirt. Traction is spotty in sections and it was getting to me a bit. I kept on pedaling and just before I emerged from this wash I see someone riding towards me. It turned out to be Jim McConnel, who was surprised to see me racing and started shouting words of encouragement to me. It gave me a huge boost and I headed back towards the lake for the final few miles of the lap. As I passed through the transition area I was riding high because I had made it through the first lap of the bike. I felt pretty confident and actually looked forward a bit to the challenge of the final bike lap.
I should have known better. Just after a mile into the second lap I was following another rider as we crested the top of a climb. We made a sweeping left turn and started to pass through a section of double track that was very rocky. At the end of that section was a quick descent. The rider in front dropped in and I followed his line down. I was nearly at the bottom when I felt the strange sensation of the back of my bike rotating forward through the air. I got a nice view of my front tire and disc brake right before my brain sounded the alarm, “Brace for impact!” Once again my bike would have the final say as it came slamming down on top of me.
I was able to rotate enough that I took the impact on my right shoulder and of course, on the already tender right hip. My first thought was that the race was over for me. I was already tired, hurt, and now I had further beat myself up with this crash. The next rider down the hill stopped and asked me how I was doing. His name was Chris from Los Angeles and he stayed with me until I was able to get back to my feet and then onto the bike. I had started this race and planned to stop when I crossed the finish line.
Luckily I was able to get through the rest of the bike course with no major mishaps, although I did slip on one of the final curves after coming off the single track around Lake Las Vegas. The worst part of that was that is was in full view of the transition area, but at that point I didn’t care as I was almost done with the bike course.
I came into transition and was the happiest I have ever been to go out and run. I couldn’t rack that bike fast enough. I had struggled but I had finished the section of the race that had been vexing me all week. I quickly sucked down some electrolyte drink, threw on the visor and shoes, and I was off. The Team Kyle monkey was secure in the back of my jersey and would be coming along for the run. I didn’t care how tough the runcourse was, XTERRA could throw Mt. Everest at me at this point and I knew I was going to finish it.
Although it wasn’t my fastest run ever, it was one of the most enjoyable. That’s not to say it wasn’t tough, because it was. I knew the hard work I had put in over the preceding months was paying off as I had been able to do a longer distance race even while being injured. The closer I got to the finish line, the more I thought about why I was doing this race and triathlons in general. I was wearing a jersey that commemorated my brother’s life and spread the word about Marfan Syndrome. There wasn’t a minute that would go by on the course where I didn’t think of Kyle. I knew he would get a huge kick out of his brother doing a triathlon and would have really enjoyed the atmosphere of an XTERRA race. I didn’t want to fail in my first attempt to represent the National Marfan Foundation and I surely didn’t want to let the memory of Kyle down.
I had also been extremely fortunate to be chosen for Melanie McQuaid’s MelRad Racing Team and I was determined to prove myself worthy. I knew that I would never be at the same level athletically as the other members of the team, but I would give no one an opportunity to question my heart when it came to racing. I felt like a rockstar being on Melanie’s team and for that I will always be grateful to her.
With about half a mile to go I spotted a runner ahead of me. I wanted to finish strong and knew I could catch him. I picked up my pace and tried to lengthen my stride. Just prior to the last downhill I caught him and went past. I feared wiping out on the downhill and having him go past me. Luckily I was able to negotiate the downhill and open up a gap. I ran towards transition and for the first time ever got to hold up my wrist to show Kahuna Dave that this was my last lap. He pointed me towards the finishing chute. I started to choke up a bit as I realized this race was coming to an end for me. I was going to finish this XTERRA.
In the end I know this is just a race, but for me it was bigger than the race. I was racing for a little brother, an organization that is working to make sure no one else is lost to Marfan Syndrome, and a team of amazing amateurs who are even nicer people. Whatever pain I went through this week, it was well worth the price.
Tags: Shawn Moran, XTERRA
What a good looking bunch of people!! Shawn, you are an absolute trooper racing this weekend and the “biggest heart” award definitely goes to you.