Many years ago I "rode" a 25 mile mountain bike race in old rock quarry area with lots of sticky clay.
It rained for 2 days prior. When we started most of us rode about 100 feet and then hoisted our bikes to the shoulder and scrambled the rest of the 25 miles.
When I finally got to the finish line, as the announcer was calling my name, I stopped, bent over, and hurled what ever there was to hurl.
I heard the complete color commentary on the P.A.
There was nothing left to do but limp off and return with a shovel.
Right on the finish line.
That was enough for me.
:-)
best regards,
mike