Muddy Buddy, not Bloody Buddy...

I just don't even know what to say.

The day started so well.  We were on time, had our bikes, socks, skirts to sacrifice.  

We were ready to RUN, have FUN, and GET MUDDY.  

I admit, I was totally looking forward to being COVERED in MUD at the end of the day with my GIRLFRIEND.  We're sexy as it is.... somehow a mud pit/post race hose down just seemed like a way to take it up to the next level.

Team Beer & Cupcakes... or is that Cupcakes & Beer?  

It didn't matter, we were mint and chocolate and ready to race...er, "run for fun".

Our corral went off without a hitch.  I rode out on the bike with full confidence that T would pass everyone on the run.  I held my own on the bike, and finished middle of the pack.  

Dude, did you know I can run?  I passed almost every female in our corral... and a lot of men too....

chic... chic... chic... chic...

I spent the entire run, "on your left!" up the hills, "on your left!" feeling strong... oh yes, totally GBA, plenty in the tank for the next leg of the race.

I kept waiting for her to pass me on the bike.  And as I got to the 2nd transition... I knew... 

Something was wrong.  

No buddy...  I thought, oh no, a flat tire.... and then Lady Em ran past and the look on her face said more than her words ever could.  "I saw her DOWN on the side of the course..." 

down as in, "down" and getting up, or as in DOWN?. 

Lady Em, "As in, she's not coming...."

I turned right then went to the EMT with his radio and said, "This is my Buddy's bib #, I need to know, is she OK?  Where she is?  How can we get me from here to her?"  EMT looked at me and said, "I'm about to take this guy here... want to ride?  I can try to find out about your buddy while we're driving?"  

So without real confirmation, I jumped onto the back of a gator type thing and rode out of the Muddy Buddy without a second thought. 

I always wondered what it would feel like to ride off the course with an EMT.  Would I be bummed that my race had gone to hell?  Would I worry about a DNF?  Would I...? would I...?

No.  I apparently won't give it a thought.  It's not important.  

I arrived at the ambulance right as they shut the doors.  I saw her sitting there, and they shut the door on my face.  The heavy sound rang in my heart.  I swear, the sound of the doors closing was physically painful.

"Where are you taking her?"

"St. Something Hospital."

OK.  So... I need to get my bike so I can get to St. Somthing.  And I jumped into another gator to get my bike off the course.

As we're riding to the bike the EMT kept saying, "I hid your bike, your bike is fine." and I kept saying "It doesn't matter, I can buy a new bike.  I am much more worried about my buddy."... to which he kept saying, "they're taking her to the hospital... but it's OK, your bike is fine..."

I picked up my bike, jumped on, and honestly, rode faster than I've probably ever ridden uphill in my life.  That was my workout today.  a 1 mile bike ride, a 1+ mile run, and 1 mile hard as you can sprint ride out.  Loaded bike in the JEEP in 2 seconds, and made it to the hospital before she was out of triage.

I'm a good friend though - don't worry.  I gave her my last cliff bar.  I took her photo for the blog.  I took OUR photo for the blog.  I was sad and held her hand.  And I felt helpless.  I tried to entertain her.  To offer words of encouragement.  To tell her the GOOD things that came out of the day.  To celebrate that she is OK...  even though she's not 100% OK, she's OK...

So tonight I'm exhausted.  And Sad.  

Sad that I could not make it better for T.  

Sad that I couldn't do anything to help with her pain at the hospital.  

Sad that she is broken (not "broken", go read her blog, I'm sure she'll update it).  

It was a sad day all around.  There was no mud on my shirt at the end of the race today.

There was blood on it though.  

T's blood.  

Yeah, it was like that.