The usual odds n' ends
Ok, I've been away since the weekend thanks to racing and exams. The midterms went well, I got an A in linguistics, and a B in American Art and Archtiecture. I never get Bs, but then again I'm taking that class for fun and I don't need the scholarship next semester. I have so intensely focused on school for the last five years (one lost in medical nonsense that I did very well with, but strongly disliked), that I am not sure what life after that kind of long, intense burn will feel like. I am simultaneously excited, terrified, and disappointed. Terrified because what if I can't do what I'm going to do next? Disappointed because I somehow expected this deeper understanding I've gained to somehow clue me in on how to better contribute to the world around me. And excited because I will have completed what I have spent half my life trying to avoid out of fear that I couldn't succeed at it.
All the things I feel are valid, and it's the excitement that helps me to realize that the terror and disappointment will be dealt with in time, and I'll find my way to contribute and function. I think the bicycle racing is an offshoot of that. In high school, in a class of something like 1,100 students, it turned out I was the 8th fastest runner or something like that when the one mile fitness test was administered. No one knew who I was because I pretty much kept to myself in gym class, and I much prefered cigarettes and vodka to sports. I was asked to join the cross-country team but I declined; after all, I was 8th fastest, not first, and it seemed like a lot of work with only an opportunity to fail for my affort. It never occured to me that if i actually practiced, I could be the fastest. Since I never ran at that time, I just didn't know that it improves with practice.
I'm less afraid to take chances now. Saturday's race was awful for me. Long story short: I wasn't prepared for this very challenging, technical, muddy course because of my lack of handling skills, and also I had the wrong tires on the bike. Due to my lack of skills and poorly suited tires, I fell off the bike (a few times actually) and struck my knee on a rock. That was the end of my race, a Did Not Finish (dnf). Road-racing usually uses slicks, or if it's raining, tires with some fluting to help dissipate water. I wrongly assumed the tires I had on would be good enough, because they had been good enough in the past. After a day of strong, steady downpour, the track was greasy-slippery, and my tires packed with mud instantly. I have a lot to learn about most aspects of cyclocross, but for the most part the bike itself wasn't a problem, just my (mis)use of it. I was allllll over the place, slipping and sliding and terrified on fast, slippery descents. I caused and was involved in a couple of crashes, which is NOT something any racer wants to do. After two laps, I was exhausted and frustrated, but still able to pass people on the paved and/or drier straights. As soon as the track got twisty or messy, they would get by me again. In hindsight, I really should've paid more attention to where they placed their wheels and how they handled their bikes, because every person that passed me knew something I needed to learn. Instead of riding smarter, I opted for peddling harder. That can work sometimes, and if you knew what you were doing, it could've worked beautifully on this course. Strength I have, but nuance, on the other hand...
So yeah, I went down on a slippery part of the track that wasn't even that difficult to navigate the first two times I rode it. It was at the lowest point of the course and was somewhat of a rutted mudhole by the first lap, and it wasn't a particularly fast section of the course. I was trying to avoid the deeper ruts, but dropped into one, lost my balance, and went down on my right knee amidst the roots and rocks. I was 15' before a steep run-up, so I just ran from there. My knee was white-hot pain, and by the time I reached the top of the climb, I knew my racing was done for that day. My teamates came in 9th and 11th, while the fiance of one of them finished first in the women's B race. My two teamamtes are very good riders, and Jessica is just phenomonal in her strength and skill. I cheered them on while wishing I was still in the race, even though I was having a difficult time with it.
The women's elite race at Granogue was amazing. There was a two-time paralympic champion vs. the national MAMBA champion vs. some other national champion. Jeeeeezus they were fast, and they made it look so effortless and easy, yet attainable. The men's elite is so fast that it just seems unobtainable. I know that's not true, and I can get there with enough practice, effort, and time.
Saturday night I put new tires with much improved corner-bite on the Bianchi.
Four hours later I awoke for Sunday's race. I almost bagged it because my knee was killing me, but I went for a quick spin around the block, and it didn't bother me any or make any funny clicking noises or anything. Movement was ok, it just hurt like hell when i wasn't moving. Go figure.
Not having a car and the truck I used the day before was unavailable, I caught a ride with my teamamte and his fiance. I am so glad I did, because they were sharing tips with me from their mountain biking experience. These were exactly the kind of things I wish I knew the day before. We get there early and walk the course (ah, what a novel idea!) and Tim points a few things out to me. It turned out those things would be of HUGE benefit to me. Roadies have strength, mountain bikers have skill. Cyclocross requires both, so one doesn't nessesarily trump the other. Still, from my perspective, skill helps! Tim and Jessica lent me some of theirs.
As we walk the course, my dread stemming from the day before begins to be replaced with nervous optimism. We walk back to our bikes and prepare to pre-ride the course.. I follow Tim and try to do what he does. This makes some things very apparent to me: This can be done, by me, and easier than I thought. Maybe not as smoothly, but certainly do-able. After an adjustemet on the bike, i complete the re-ride of the course just in time for our staging. The knee is presenting no problem whatsoever, it's like saturday never even happened. : )
Yesterday's race start was a nightmare of putting the faster B men behind the slower C men, and it was a mess. Pileups, jams, the whole nine. Today was the reverse:B Masters first, then C. This made everyone happy. There were about 150 people on the starting line, 52 in my catagory (men's C). Bang! We're off. Peter, a teamamte of mine, was starting somewhere behind me. He's strong, and by the time we reached the first curve, he was ahead of me. Tim is a B master, so he started well ahead of me. There's so many people, that it's like a long line of traffic at a green light: it takes time to get the train rolling. This was the slowest start I had ever seen in a race...really strange. Soon the bikes are flying and a lot of people are in front of me. Mass starts and some of the other riders make me nervous, and this is a fear I must get over. The pack spreads out as it winds its way around the first lap, at one point I make a newbie mistake and hang myself up on a pole, and so it goes.
Jean showed up to watch me race, and two teamamates, Dan and Laura, also came to watch (they weren't racing that day). I could hear them all over the racetrack, cheering us on. They gave my legs strength, they increased my desire to push hard and make a good showing of myself. I lost no places in the sand, one of Tim's tips in a particularly difficult corner was worth gold in that I lost no places there, and I even managed to gain a few from others getting bogged down in that spot. I'm passing lines of people in the staights, and I hear Dan and Laura and Jean cheering and I want to go faster. I do go faster. I pass more people in the straights, I roll up to the barriers better than I ever have (not saying much, I still need work in my dismounts/jumps/remounts), I even manage a smile to them at one point, and a playful sticking my tongue out at them at another. I watch my back so I don't leave holes for others to get by me, and I choose better lines. I learned to anticipate obstacles presented by slower riders after one gets in my way, causing me to lose balance and fall. I stll have a lot to learn, but this was my best race yet. Even at the end, someone tries to take me in a sprint, but I fend off the attack and the other guy finishes in line behind me. Out of 50 finishers, I came in 23rd, and I satisfied with that result. I fought hard to finish there, picking off people in twos and threes and fives. BUT, since I passed all those people to get 23rd, it lets me know I really need to work on my starts. I 'd rather defend 10th position (and try for 4th) than try to claw my way through a pack to get it. And that's if the leaders don't manage to get away entirely since they don't have a pack to claw through.
Peter came in 4th out the same 50 finishers, Tim came in 6th out of a lot, but who knows how many. Jessica had a reapeat of her previous victory: 1st place. Good times, good racing.
Observations
My Saturday didn't dictate my Sunday. My failures are easier for me to brush off. When I was younger, I would dwell on them for months and use them as an excuse to not try anything.
I'm less reluctant to ask for help. I used to never ask, I always thought I was just supposed to somehow know things, or it meant I was a failure.
Bicycling, something I've always thought of as solitary, and enjoyed doing alone, is even more fun with friends and teammates. I am such a solitary person that it took a little time for me to catch the social aspect of cycling. Honestly, I'm still not sure that I get it, but who cares, it's fun.
When I'm open to suggestions, my riding improves by leaps and bounds. So does my confidence.
At tthe age of 34, I finally have reached the emotional maturity level of an 18 year-old. This is not a bad thing, I know a lot of people well into their forties who act like they're 12. I'm very happy to be here, and it's better late than never ; )
All the things I feel are valid, and it's the excitement that helps me to realize that the terror and disappointment will be dealt with in time, and I'll find my way to contribute and function. I think the bicycle racing is an offshoot of that. In high school, in a class of something like 1,100 students, it turned out I was the 8th fastest runner or something like that when the one mile fitness test was administered. No one knew who I was because I pretty much kept to myself in gym class, and I much prefered cigarettes and vodka to sports. I was asked to join the cross-country team but I declined; after all, I was 8th fastest, not first, and it seemed like a lot of work with only an opportunity to fail for my affort. It never occured to me that if i actually practiced, I could be the fastest. Since I never ran at that time, I just didn't know that it improves with practice.
I'm less afraid to take chances now. Saturday's race was awful for me. Long story short: I wasn't prepared for this very challenging, technical, muddy course because of my lack of handling skills, and also I had the wrong tires on the bike. Due to my lack of skills and poorly suited tires, I fell off the bike (a few times actually) and struck my knee on a rock. That was the end of my race, a Did Not Finish (dnf). Road-racing usually uses slicks, or if it's raining, tires with some fluting to help dissipate water. I wrongly assumed the tires I had on would be good enough, because they had been good enough in the past. After a day of strong, steady downpour, the track was greasy-slippery, and my tires packed with mud instantly. I have a lot to learn about most aspects of cyclocross, but for the most part the bike itself wasn't a problem, just my (mis)use of it. I was allllll over the place, slipping and sliding and terrified on fast, slippery descents. I caused and was involved in a couple of crashes, which is NOT something any racer wants to do. After two laps, I was exhausted and frustrated, but still able to pass people on the paved and/or drier straights. As soon as the track got twisty or messy, they would get by me again. In hindsight, I really should've paid more attention to where they placed their wheels and how they handled their bikes, because every person that passed me knew something I needed to learn. Instead of riding smarter, I opted for peddling harder. That can work sometimes, and if you knew what you were doing, it could've worked beautifully on this course. Strength I have, but nuance, on the other hand...
So yeah, I went down on a slippery part of the track that wasn't even that difficult to navigate the first two times I rode it. It was at the lowest point of the course and was somewhat of a rutted mudhole by the first lap, and it wasn't a particularly fast section of the course. I was trying to avoid the deeper ruts, but dropped into one, lost my balance, and went down on my right knee amidst the roots and rocks. I was 15' before a steep run-up, so I just ran from there. My knee was white-hot pain, and by the time I reached the top of the climb, I knew my racing was done for that day. My teamates came in 9th and 11th, while the fiance of one of them finished first in the women's B race. My two teamamtes are very good riders, and Jessica is just phenomonal in her strength and skill. I cheered them on while wishing I was still in the race, even though I was having a difficult time with it.
The women's elite race at Granogue was amazing. There was a two-time paralympic champion vs. the national MAMBA champion vs. some other national champion. Jeeeeezus they were fast, and they made it look so effortless and easy, yet attainable. The men's elite is so fast that it just seems unobtainable. I know that's not true, and I can get there with enough practice, effort, and time.
Saturday night I put new tires with much improved corner-bite on the Bianchi.
Four hours later I awoke for Sunday's race. I almost bagged it because my knee was killing me, but I went for a quick spin around the block, and it didn't bother me any or make any funny clicking noises or anything. Movement was ok, it just hurt like hell when i wasn't moving. Go figure.
Not having a car and the truck I used the day before was unavailable, I caught a ride with my teamamte and his fiance. I am so glad I did, because they were sharing tips with me from their mountain biking experience. These were exactly the kind of things I wish I knew the day before. We get there early and walk the course (ah, what a novel idea!) and Tim points a few things out to me. It turned out those things would be of HUGE benefit to me. Roadies have strength, mountain bikers have skill. Cyclocross requires both, so one doesn't nessesarily trump the other. Still, from my perspective, skill helps! Tim and Jessica lent me some of theirs.
As we walk the course, my dread stemming from the day before begins to be replaced with nervous optimism. We walk back to our bikes and prepare to pre-ride the course.. I follow Tim and try to do what he does. This makes some things very apparent to me: This can be done, by me, and easier than I thought. Maybe not as smoothly, but certainly do-able. After an adjustemet on the bike, i complete the re-ride of the course just in time for our staging. The knee is presenting no problem whatsoever, it's like saturday never even happened. : )
Yesterday's race start was a nightmare of putting the faster B men behind the slower C men, and it was a mess. Pileups, jams, the whole nine. Today was the reverse:B Masters first, then C. This made everyone happy. There were about 150 people on the starting line, 52 in my catagory (men's C). Bang! We're off. Peter, a teamamte of mine, was starting somewhere behind me. He's strong, and by the time we reached the first curve, he was ahead of me. Tim is a B master, so he started well ahead of me. There's so many people, that it's like a long line of traffic at a green light: it takes time to get the train rolling. This was the slowest start I had ever seen in a race...really strange. Soon the bikes are flying and a lot of people are in front of me. Mass starts and some of the other riders make me nervous, and this is a fear I must get over. The pack spreads out as it winds its way around the first lap, at one point I make a newbie mistake and hang myself up on a pole, and so it goes.
Jean showed up to watch me race, and two teamamates, Dan and Laura, also came to watch (they weren't racing that day). I could hear them all over the racetrack, cheering us on. They gave my legs strength, they increased my desire to push hard and make a good showing of myself. I lost no places in the sand, one of Tim's tips in a particularly difficult corner was worth gold in that I lost no places there, and I even managed to gain a few from others getting bogged down in that spot. I'm passing lines of people in the staights, and I hear Dan and Laura and Jean cheering and I want to go faster. I do go faster. I pass more people in the straights, I roll up to the barriers better than I ever have (not saying much, I still need work in my dismounts/jumps/remounts), I even manage a smile to them at one point, and a playful sticking my tongue out at them at another. I watch my back so I don't leave holes for others to get by me, and I choose better lines. I learned to anticipate obstacles presented by slower riders after one gets in my way, causing me to lose balance and fall. I stll have a lot to learn, but this was my best race yet. Even at the end, someone tries to take me in a sprint, but I fend off the attack and the other guy finishes in line behind me. Out of 50 finishers, I came in 23rd, and I satisfied with that result. I fought hard to finish there, picking off people in twos and threes and fives. BUT, since I passed all those people to get 23rd, it lets me know I really need to work on my starts. I 'd rather defend 10th position (and try for 4th) than try to claw my way through a pack to get it. And that's if the leaders don't manage to get away entirely since they don't have a pack to claw through.
Peter came in 4th out the same 50 finishers, Tim came in 6th out of a lot, but who knows how many. Jessica had a reapeat of her previous victory: 1st place. Good times, good racing.
Observations
My Saturday didn't dictate my Sunday. My failures are easier for me to brush off. When I was younger, I would dwell on them for months and use them as an excuse to not try anything.
I'm less reluctant to ask for help. I used to never ask, I always thought I was just supposed to somehow know things, or it meant I was a failure.
Bicycling, something I've always thought of as solitary, and enjoyed doing alone, is even more fun with friends and teammates. I am such a solitary person that it took a little time for me to catch the social aspect of cycling. Honestly, I'm still not sure that I get it, but who cares, it's fun.
When I'm open to suggestions, my riding improves by leaps and bounds. So does my confidence.
At tthe age of 34, I finally have reached the emotional maturity level of an 18 year-old. This is not a bad thing, I know a lot of people well into their forties who act like they're 12. I'm very happy to be here, and it's better late than never ; )