Clarks don't quit

Last weekend (or so, I keep losing track of the days) the 6 Clarks and 8 other couples/families drove to Butte, Montana for a 100 mile mountain bike race. There are perks to Sam's passion for cycling:
-He has biker friends who have really cool wives that I get to hang-out with
-He has biker friends who have really cool kids that my kids get to hang-out with
-We get to watch from the side line and finish line and socialize, eat treats, and cheer on our hubbys/daddys
-We often get to travel and go on weekend trips for rides/races
-We get to watch and admire the hard work and determination these guys have
-More importantly, in the case this past weekend, we saw how amazingly strong BS is and how he didn't quit even when he wanted to so bad.

Pictured above is the poster that hung on our hotel door when BS came back from his pre-race check in Friday night. The kids quickly made it before he could catch them in the act. My favorite is the "Come on bulldog!"
But notice how in the lower right corner it says, "Clarks don't quit." That has become a family motto when the kids have wanted to quit something that we feel they need to try harder at. Millie wrote this on the poster not even knowing what lied ahead. Why would he quit the race? He was really looking forward to it.

Saturday morning the race started at 6:00 am, still dark. There were about 85 people who started. So different from the massive start at the other races. This is a newer race so it is a pretty small event. In fact, there were only a handful of us who showed up to support and cheer the racers on, most being in our group. No parking issues or huge crowds made it really nice for those of us who were crewing.




They were off! Some of us went to the 1st aide station that was 24 miles in. It was in the middle of nowhere off a long dirt road. It quickly became apparent that the aide station would not be what these guys were used to. Just a cooler full of bottled water and a can full of Hammer Heed which is pretty nasty. We jumped in and started helping the riders as they took a minute to fill water bottles and hand-out drop bags. Soon enough, our guys rolled in fairly close to each other. BS was at a disadvantage at this point because he was riding a single speed and that section was flat. I got him taken care of and kissed him off. I knew I wouldn't be seeing him for a few hours.


Then we went back to the hotel for some free breakfast (love Hampton Inn) and some swimming until it was time to go to aide station 5. The kids and I, along with the other wives and kids set-up camp there and waited. And waited. And waited.


Quincy is chilling in the back of a friend's car watching a show, Millie is waiting patiently and excited to hold up more posters. Notice Sambo and Will are MIA. They spent most the time with the other boys exploring the great outdoors. We were in Montana after all.

While we were waiting, I got a phone call from Uncle Shad and he said that he had just landed in Butte with Grandpa Tom and Grandma Cindy and wanted to know where to come. Soon they showed up in a loaner car from the airport, ready to cheer on BS. It was way cool of them to fly up and spend the day supporting him.

Too bad that minutes after they arrived, BS came hobbling up the trail on his bike looking like death. Death. He rolled off his bike and said, "I'm done." I have never seen him like that. In all of his biking adventures, he is always the one rolling in to the station with a grin on his face and full of gusto. Tired, but ready to ride more. So I was really worried when I saw him. He had nothing left. He then goes on to say that he had puked twice, got lost twice, and needed a bathroom really really bad. He was dehydrated and heat stroked. The trails were poorly marked and some locals had messed with the signs so several racers were getting lost and putting them behind an hour or two. At this point it was supposed to be 50 miles but it was really 59 at this point. Mentally this is devastating. He was not alone, he was along side his friend named Erik, who had also gotten lost. They were both wanting to throw in the towel. He was done and ready to quit. He sat down (which he never does) and just stared. I lovingly forced him to drink and eat. He felt sick and did not want to eat a thing, but finally a chocolate chip cookie sounded appetizing. Then some Pringles, then a banana. As he ate, his color came back and I could see him coming back to life even through the dry heaves. He continued to sit there for a full 35 minutes. He was so done. Here is Millie giving him some water and Grandpa Tom providing some shade.


Then she sat down by him and said, "Dad, Clarks don't quit."
He hated our stupid motto at that point. But what could he do but get back on his bike and keep going. Thanks to Erik who initiated moving on, BS yelled at him to wait up, and got on his bike. Can you see the dread in his face?



I stocked his pockets with baby wipes and told him to find a bush. He asked me to be at station 7 with a Coke.
And they were off. I was worried sick for him. I was proud of him.

We took Shad and my parents to lunch and drove to aide station #7. This one was way off the beaten path, but totally gorgeous. We enjoyed being in the mountains and fresh air. There were wild flowers everywhere. Soon as riders started coming through, it became apparent that this race was way more than they bargained for. Racers dropping like flies. Quitting. Crashing. Bleeding. Exhausted. Men saying that the stretch between 6 and 7 was the hardest thing they have EVER ridden. We did our best to distract ourselves and have fun while we waited.



Soon enough, BS and Erik appeared through the trees and I think that is the best thing I have ever seen. This time he looked better. He had the same opinions about that stretch. He guzzled his Coke and ate some more cookies. I re-stocked everything, they only stopped for a few minutes because they knew the cut-off time was 7:00 at the last station and they were cutting it close. It started pounding rain as they took off. They welcomed the rain to cool them off.



It was time for Shad and my parents to get back to the airport so they could fly back before it got dark. They were dying with suspense to know how BS would do. The other guys hadn't come in yet so Jessi (Erik's wife) and I headed out for the last aide station. The drive was undescribable. 4-wheeling up steep, rocky trail that seemed to go for miles. But we didn't care because we just HAD to see our guys and be there when they rode in.
We were the only support crew at this last stop. Most people had given up. We learned that only 20 something bikers had even come through this point.

Well they made it through the last station at 6:15. They survived the famous "8 miles of Hell" and then they were headed home with like 15 miles to go. 15 very rugged miles.

We drove to the finish line and anxiously waited. Again, the kids off playing and having fun, oblivious to the tension. Soon cars rolled up with all of our friends/families with the guys who hadn't made the cut-off. They made it to station 7 which is awesome and incredible. We are so proud of them. They were so close. In the end they rode like 87 miles of the hardest race course.

So, we had all of us there to cheer on BS and Erik as they crossed the finish line together at 8:15 pm. They had been riding for 14 hours. 14 hours. And not just riding...never ending climbing. Ironically, a huge beautiful rainbow was in the sky.

This is what he looked like:

But then Quinny jumped on him and then he was like this:


More photos of the finish:

The awesome Suncrest crew

Nobody understands how BS was able to finish this race on a single speed. In the end, we heard only 31 riders even finished. And BS was 1 of only 3 single speeders to finish. Wow.
Thank-you for your example of hard work, your love for life and physical activity, and your determination not to QUIT. We love you and are very proud that we belong to you.