Many of the skaters that raced in Athens to Atlanta will admit it was the hardest race of their life; they had never skated that far, that fast or over so many hills. It was the hardest race of my life, but for quite different reasons. After all, I have skated 283 miles in 24 hours without drafting anyone. I know how to skate long and suffer.
My entire season was focused on winning this one race. I started a bit slowly in April, but had been getting stronger with every race. Since mid-August I had placed 4th in the Modesto 50k, 7th in the Duluth Marathon, and 4th in the New York 100k; each time finishing with the lead pack in a sprint. Just one week before A2A, I won a marathon in San Diego by almost 10 minutes. I was psyched, hungry, and ready to race in Georgia.
The weekend before A2A, my coach Jonathan Seutter and I had traveled to southern California for a few days of relaxation and hard skating. I had a sense on Monday the 7th that I should call home and check my messages, but I thought "no, I'm taking a day of vacation, so no phone calls." When I got home at 10:30 that night I had 4 calls from my oldest sister. I knew, without even calling her back, that our mother had died. My call confirmed the worse: a sudden heart attack. She never knew what hit her. For me, it meant trying to get a flight to Pittsburgh early Tuesday morning, and having to pack for the next week: for a funeral and for Athens to Atlanta, without having a chance to collect my thoughts or sleep.
That next week was probably the worst of my life. For those of you that have lost a parent, you know how hard it is. For me, it was even tougher as we had buried my father almost 20 years ago. This was the closing of a generation. There was no more "home" for my sisters and I. My heart ached as we made preparations during the week. I did manage to get out a few times to skate in South Park, but finding the motivation was hard. I wasn't even sure that I wanted to do A2A anymore, but Jonathan convinced me that I should since I had trained the whole year for it.
Friday we buried my mom; Saturday I got on a plane and flew to Atlanta. I never got a chance to check out the course. I had no idea what I was really in store for. At the pre-event meeting I decided that I was going to try to win it for my mom - that's what I told the people from Inline America. I thought that I could. Hadn't some swimmer won a gold medal in Barcelona shortly after his father died? Of course, that was a race of only one or two minutes; long term mental concentration wasn't critical. A race like Athens to Atlanta is different, due to its multi-hour length. It takes more than physical strength, it takes great mental strength. All of you know that if your mind says "I can't go on," that your race is over, even if you are physically strong. Likewise, you can be hurting physically, but if your mind says "I can do it," you can. I was counting on my mental strength to carry me through. And it almost worked.
Sunday morning was perfect, and the race started fast and furious. After the first 10 miles, I was in a group that included most of the lead women; all of the women that I had raced with in the New York 100K. The pace was high, and we kept dropping skaters as the distance increased. I was doing OK, but somewhere along the line, my mind started to wander. I lost focus and thought about my mom, and my race was basically over. I stayed up with the group until just past the 38 mile checkpoint, but I couldn't go on. I knew that I couldn't win, and I lost all desire to keep skating. In 23 years of competing in a myriad of sports, I was going to do something that I had never done - drop out of a race. I came off the back of the pack, crossed the road, turned around and headed back towards the checkpoint.
Before I made it back, my coach and partner, Jonathan Seutter came by in a group that included Dennis Cummings, Allison Hartsoe, and Mike Miller. He wasn't having his best day, and he convinced me to join their group. We cruised along for awhile, somewhere out there I lost focus again. Try to chase down a pack sometime while tears are streaming down your face. It is impossible. I was demoralized, but Jonathan convinced me that we should just skate along by ourselves. We did. Occasionally we hooked up with other skaters, but a lot of the time we just skated together and helped motivate each other to the finish line. It was difficult. My pride was hurt - I was back with people that I normally should have been ahead of, but not on this day. They were skating great races, so I just accepted where I was. We skated the last 10 miles hard, and Jonathan and I crossed the line together. 5:43. Not a terrible time, but not where I would have liked to have been. I had worn a black arm band for my mom, and I know that she was watching me. I was sad that I hadn't been able to win it for her, but was happy that I had been able to finish it for her.
I really want to thank Jonathan for skating the last 48 miles with me, and to congratulate all of the winners and finishers. It was a tough race for all of the skaters. Everyone had difficulties to overcome, which they did, each in their own way. Thanks for watching Mom, and I'll be back in 1998!
Kimberly Ames holds the Women's World Records for 12 and 24 Hours (162.26 and 283.07 miles).
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