Fantasies lived out, fairytales become reality, misguided dreams derailed.
As I live I am reworked, remodeled, refined.
Last Sunday I race the Chainbreaker. It was hard. More like a 2-hour cyclocross race than a cross-country mountain bike race, the Chainbreaker hurt. There are no big hills to charge up on the Chainbreak course; only short steep kickers, tight, twisty corners and traffic of the male gender that does all it can to avoid getting passed by a girl. The Chainbreaker hurt. It hurt my legs, my lungs and my ego.
Alice, Lizzy and Sue schooled me, in a big way. They are aggressive and strong and unrelenting. They are pros. They are the carrots that get me on my bike each day and ride until my nose bleeds (which, unbelievably happened this week at minute 51 of a 60 minute interval).
I am not a professional cyclist; but keep on reaching. Without the pros, why would we keep working to get stronger? If Cat 1 Glory was the end all-be all, I would be set. I would ride at the top of my class and call it good; but like most bike racers, that just isn’t good enough.
Reach higher, working harder, training smarter. Bend is full of amazing athletes; it isn’t easy to constantly compare my mortal self to those that seem, at times, immortal. But they are just people, with two legs that push pedals, a stomach that growls after hours in the saddle, and a back that aches after a long day on the trails. And for the most part, they are pretty fantastic people.
And here I have to call out one such individual; Ben Thompson. The most unassuming, kind-heart person at the registration table turns out to be a crazy good cyclist and a super nice guy. His advice, encouragement and criticisms are honest and forthcoming, and while he might be riding for the Trek Mountain Co-op, deep down, Ben is still really a part of Team Sunnyside.