This experience happened a few days ago, but for purposes of family in the West Indies, China and across the United States, I wanted to share this story.
Kenyon rode in the Tour of St. George last Saturday, October 18th. This tour is a Century ride which means it’s a 100 mile bike race. He had trained for a couple of months, and although he never feels like he has trained enough, he was ready for a good ride. The weather was perfect for a bike ride and the route was very scenic.
My friend Marie and I, and her 5 boys were following the race, as Marie’s son Tory and his friend Taylor were also riding. The cheerleaders would typically pull ahead of the cyclists, cheer them on as they rode by, and then drove ahead again, to wait and cheer (or heckle) other riders during our stops.
When Kenyon arrived at the 40 mile mark –he wasn’t feeling great. It was the lunch break for the ride, and his stomach was hurting. He didn’t feel like eating, which means he didn’t energize his body.
He rode several more hours, another 35 miles and was ascending up the steepest grade of the race. He still was not feeling well. At 75’ish miles, he pulled under an underpass and stopped his bike. It wasn’t a planned stop, nor did he see the underpass coming and say to himself “I’ll go to the underpass then stop”.. rather he rode under the underpass and essentially just stopped his bike. He got off his bike and called me to say that he wanted us to come and pick him up. He had decided he would ride in the car to the top of the hill, see if he could shake off the stomach ache, and then enjoy the fun part down snow canyon, which is the steepest descent of the race. Marie turned the car around to go back to get him, and just then, Tory and Taylor were approaching the car, so we waited a moment or two, to cheer them on, then we were headed back to pick up Kenyon. I would guess it took us 10 minutes or so to reach him.
During these 10 minutes, Kenyon got off his bike and was waiting for us. As he stood there, he started examining his bike, and he noticed a bulge in his tire, along with a tiny crack in the rubber. When Marie and I arrived, Kenyon loaded his bike onto the bike rack on the back of the car. As he loaded it, he showed us the bulge in the tire and we both said that it wasn’t a good idea to ride on that tire. He didn’t have a spare with him, so he was pretty bummed that his ride for the day was over.. especially, because he was excited to “haul” down Snow Canyon.. what he anticipated to be the best part of the ride. As we passed cyclists coming down the canyon, we tracked them at about 35-40 miles per hour.
At the final rest stop, we were pulled over, waiting for Tory and Taylor to arrive, when we heard what sounded like a gun shot! We turned around to see Kenyons back tire spinning. Jace (one of our cheerleaders) said “I think your tire just blew”. We all scrambled out of the car to check it out, and sure enough – that bulge and crack in the tire had blown and the tire was shredded.
I’m grateful that my husband felt the prompting of the spirit to stop his bike and get off. And I’m grateful that he had a stomach ache. I know that sounds weird, but – remember my entry from the Lotoja (204 miles, 15 ½ hours)? He doesn’t give up a bike race.
Everyone in our group that day realized the impact of what would have happened if Kenyon had been flying down Snow Canyon and the tire had blown.
I’m a lucky girl!
