Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde really explains my feelings/actions regarding this weekend.
Race #20. Gloucester Day 2. Elite Women.
3 A.M. I am up, wide awake. Coughing, snotting, general unhappying. I debate not racing.
7:15 A.M. Alarm makes me angry. I debate not racing.
Arrival at race venue. Debate not racing. Get number 69 and seed 5th after UCI point-holders. I decide to race.
Pre-ride course, find it to be dusty, rocky, not fun, and debate not racing.
Next pre-ride, lonely, still can’t dial turns, cry, debate not racing.
Warm-up. Feel nervous, have sore throat, get chills, debate not racing. Get heckled for having no warm-up routine whatsoever. I put on a HRM and do a few short efforts. HR is slow to increase, not a good sign, I debate not racing. I am registered, DNS v DNF is the same to me, I think, so I roll to the line with the expectation of “I’ll race to get the experience, as usual”. My stomach is in knots. The gross I-need-a-bathroom kind, not the nervous kind.
The start. I remember what my team told me before the start “you need to sprint OUT OF YOUR SADDLE”. ok. I am in an easy gear, which is great for that 4th row start I had. I am easily rolling up the speed of the women around me. They are going faster. This is the part I normally don’t go faster in, and let people flow around me. But, I shift my bike. This is new to me in the first 30 seconds of a race. I shift again. I am out of the saddle. I am behind the same wheel I started with, I am passing people. I swear to sweet baby Jesus that I was in the top 25 going into the first turn. This is huge for me, as I normally go SO BACKWARDS at this point. There is no proof of this positioning. If anyone sees a picture of me at the start or going into the first turn or at the base of the first run-up, please, tell me where I was. I passed people in the big asphalt turn, I held strong going into the stairs. I WAS GAINING POSITIONS!! If there is proof I was actually in the back, then at least I had confidence, dammit. I was on cloud 9. I was in my race. I WAS IN MY RACE. I was going to race with who I normally finish with, meaning I could employ those tactics I practiced the day before. EUPHORIA!!!! I go up the stairs, I mount.
what
the
actual
fuck.
My rear brake lever is slack when I check it going into that tight little turn immediately after the stairs. MY CALIPER LEVER POPPED OPEN! What the…. how in the…. What do I do? I don’t even know if pitting crossed my mind. I got off and I fixed my brake. There was a lot in between me and that pit, and I am NOT the rider you want to have going into that dusty, turny, rocky course of doom with only a front brake. Maybe I would have been fine, but, I got off my bike. I stood there, hooking up those cantis. People passed. A lot of them. I don’t know how many. In my mind, it was about 80. Thousand. I get back on, and I am not too frantic. I said TOO frantic. But this did happen before a pretty turny section where it was unsafe/douchy to try and pass. So, I practiced patience. Likely unsuccessfully. Then, a loose right-hand turn before the super powdery slanted stairs at the bottom of the course, I take someone else’s line, not my own, and I go down. Hard. My whole right side is scraped and bruised. I ripped my skin-suit. But, I get up immediately, my chain is still on, and I hop on to pedal a few strokes before getting off to run the stairs. Then, Ugh. I couldn’t shift. I was stuck in my 27 or something. I tapped the derailleur with my foot, I pushed the lever in and out, wouldn’t budge. I may have gotten it into the 44 up front, but, I was spun out. In the power section. THAT IS MY ONLY SECTION!!! More people pass me. I am so. so. so. frustrated. HEARTBROKEN. Remember, I was with my race. I signal to Al and Sean, JAM Fund leaders, that I am in need. I get to the pit 509478043 minutes later, and have a super smooth, pro exchange, where I tell them “won’t shift in the rear” (Jeremy Powers and his mechanic told us Jammers days before how to handle a pitting situation). I have no idea if the exchange was smooth, I was frantic. I get the B bike. Then I realized, no bottle cage on this bike. WHAT!? WHY!? DEAR GODS OF HYDRATION WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?????? I never in a million years thought I would ever need my pit bike. I did not prepare for this. I kept thinking “I can pit for water” but I couldn’t stop.
I couldn’t stop because I wanted to quit. I wanted to DNF. I was so mad. My start was so good. Then…. something happened. I feel something always happens. Look back to the Sucker Brook post, with all the dropped chains. I always do something. Drop a chain, wreck, can’t shift, don’t start well. I really thought I had it all going for me that race. I didn’t even want to race, but I overcame and I did a proper warm-up, I had broken down the course to know where to be conservative and where to take risks, I knew when to use what gears, I started well. It was all there for me. I was confident for like, 5 minutes. Then, freak mechanical. Back to being in the back, chasing through, but on a course I was not comfortable with. Then, I break my bike and rip my butt. Then, I turned into an asshole. Every spectator cheering “you got this!!!” wanting to be supportive. I felt like a woman in labor when the father tries to make a joke and she just screams and spits in fury. “YOU DID THIS TO ME CANT YOU SEE I AM IN PAIN GO AWAY I HATE YOU GIVE ME DRUGS” I got this? WHAT DO I HAVE??? I have anger, embarrassment, frustration. Leave me alone!! I was a disgusting human being.
I finished the race. In 32nd place or so. Whatever. I crossed the line. Barely. I was a shell of a human. I was defeated. I didn’t have it in me to race. With 2 to go I just…. completed the day. I stopped racing. I was broken. Every bit of me. My confidence, my spirit, my bike, my body. But, I finished. I finished and pulled over and immediately started crying. I was frustrated that once again my race fell apart. I felt defeated, I felt I had let so many people down, and I was ashamed of how I felt as I was feeling it. I was ashamed of how I was acting. Once again I was a pre-teen with stupid feelings and not knowing why or how to deal with them. So I cried. Then I went to the team tent and was embraced by my teammates, and encouraged. I felt better by the end of the day. I am still frustrated about the race, but now that I am not in it, I realize that this is how cross is. There are a lot of races, and a lot of chances for mechanicals.
This was my first CX race where I didn’t feel like I was progressing. Usually, even when something goes wrong, I learn from it. I can rally. I can roll with the punches and love overcoming. That day, it got the better of me. In 6 years of triathlon I have never competed and not PR’d, not gotten a better result. I was always better one race to the next. I never flatted, never mechanicalled, never anything. Despite injuries, surgeries, accidents, I always overcame. On Sunday, cyclocross broke me. It was my 20th race, and the pressure felt too high.
But actually, I did progress on Sunday. Not in real-time progression mode. Not in “let’s handle our feelings like an adult” mode. But, I had a day that was hard in every way. I was sick, I was emotionally exhausted (I’m unemployed and learning to cope with being a general failure), I had some equipment problems, the course was not suited to me. I learned that these things happen, and I just need to continue to roll with the punches. Or maybe, decide when it’s best to throw in the towel before I let emotions get the best of me. My team was there to support me in the pit, my friends were there to support me once I crossed the line, and NECX was there to support me along the way. I am sorry I rejected you all, but I am better now.
It is the Holy Week of Cyclocross after all, so hows abouts we treat this as confession, and say that I am forgiven of my sins. My sins of embarrassment for not racing well, my sins of having a bad attitude on the race course, and my sins of resenting the emotional support that I was being given. I am happy with every racing experience, because as a development rider, I am learning at every single race, regardless of result. Also, dear sweet baby jesus in the cradle in the sky, if you could let me start like that again at PVD and keep my brakes together, but not dragging, that would be cool.
Can I sign off by saying my dinner was ruined by the devilest of all foods, olives, and I had to steal half of Nick’s dinner instead? ugh.