It's shortly after midnight, and I'm still stunned about this insane weekend in Kansas City that was supposed to be Nationals Age Group Championships. To make a long story short the race ended out being cancelled due to horrific rains that just made it unsafe to have a race. They've been in a drought all summer, and it's been sunny and in the 90s and 100s for 3 weeks. On Friday and Saturday Mother Nature let the rain loose. It was great for the drought stricken farmers, but for for the athletes who had made their way to KC to compete, it was a washout.
I will share more about the weekend as I'm more able to sort out the events, and all my emotions. I returned to New York not only with my mementos of a race not done, but also the weather that wrecked havoc with tri-geeks' championship dreams. We were one of the last flights to make it into La Guardia Airport before the same storms that soaked us out in Kansas City brought their act to New York and closed down the airport. So there we were sitting in baggage claim waiting for our luggage and bikes that were sitting on the plane. It would remain there as long as the airport was closed. So our group of about 6 triathletes sat on the conveyor belt waiting for bikes and luggage, and shared our stories of our seasons thus far, and races coming up.
We were there for close to four hours, and the time passed quicker then I thought, but OMG I have get home, unpack, repack and make my way up to New hampshire for my next triathlon adventure; Timberman. I was not leaving that airport without my bike. I was not leaving Blue Bayou (say it out loud) in the hands of American Airlines baggage service. She is my lean, mean racin' machine, and I have enough anxiety flying with her. I always feel a lot better when she finally comes rolling through the oversize baggage area doors.
You should have heard the round of applause at each baggage carousel when it started up. There weren't many left at ours by the time it started up. Maybe there were 20 of us left from a totally full flight. The tri-geeks waiting for their precious steeds made up probably 35% of remaining people. There was a cellist waiting for instrument. As each bike came rolling through the doors the happy owner would let out a whoop and pump his/her fists in the air as if he/she had just won the Nationals. I guess landing before the airport closed and getting all our stuff back was going to be the major triumph of our weekend.
I did a lot of freaking out, calming down, and freaking out again over this National Championship. When I was out there I had to call my best friend/triathlon/prayer partner, and get her to pray for me and give me words of encouragement. I felt better after I talked to her, and was ready to leave my race in God's hands, and put Him in charge. God has a funny way of answering prayer, but I didn't have to deal with all the whatifs reagrding the race. More importantly those God loving farmers from the local church that came with their tractors to pull stuck cars out of the field after the event got some much needed rain for their crops. The tow truck operators came to make a killing, charging $50 for a tow. The farmers just wanted a contribution of any size to give their church.