The name of the game is suffer

This past week was spent pretending I was all better. I tried to ride seriously on Tuesday and couldn’t, but was more successful on Thursday. I got done and my legs were actually sore. It is a familiar and comforting kind of pain. But the overwhelming feeling was that things weren’t the same. I couldn’t understand it or place my finger on the change. Was I still sick? Or was it just that 10 weeks of poor health and training dragging me down because I was out of shape. I couldn’t separate the feeling of sickness from the feeling of being tied. I was confusing the pain of a strong effort with the pain of your body telling you to cool it and rest. In the past I have always erred on the side of the first, but experience was telling me to be smarter.

So I have been treading lightly, trying to be smarter and trying to listen to my body. Part of this was justified, but part of this was honestly disbelief. I was having a hard time believing that I was actually healthy and getting to ride and train again. I took it easy Friday and Saturday in preparation for the WORS race on Sunday near Green Bay.

The drive was refreshing as it reminded me of the first few year of racing when I was 16 and 17. I just got my license and driving hours solo to a bike race blasting music while speeding down the road. I got to the venue at the reforestation camp north of Green Bay, signed up and got ready. It was very good to be back, and the welcome was warm. A few people seemed to be in as much disbelief as I was. Asking me if I knew where I was. Haha, maybe I didn’t. I missed the WORS family, and I could tell I was missed as well. Even Don gave me a welcome back.

But from the moment the word GO went out, the name of the game was suffer.  I had some luck on the start and missed a big tangle that happened just to my outside and slotted in in the top 20 as we headed into the fast open trails on the start loop. I sat in and watched those around me trying to stay within myself while holding the top 10 I had from moving up on the open trails. Then the hammer dropped, at least I think. It’s hard to say if they went faster or if I started going slower, but I started moving backwards.

The gaps had grown, so I was only losing 1 or 2 places at a time. In the first 2 laps I was caught by 3 or 4 groups of guys and ended up moving back into the high teens. I was suffering like a dog as people would catch and drop me. On lap 3 I looked back and the gap behind me was big enough that no one else was going to catch me. I started to push it to see what I could do. I passed one guy back half way through the lap. Then with 3 miles left I spotted 18^th place ahead. It was a ray of hope for a guy imprisoned in the pain cave. But let me take you back 5 hours at my parents in Milwaukee. Before I left for the race my dad and I were talking. He told me a story about Tom Danielson from the US Pro Challenge. When he won the stage into Aspen, he said that he wasn’t just riding for himself and his team; he was riding for his family. My dad told me that when I go out and race, that I was riding for my family as well. In the hustle of packing and leaving I didn’t stop to think. But at the moment when I was hurting the most, I found the strength to push harder by remembering that I was riding for the ones I love too.

I pushed hard to keep him in sight, but when we hit some technical sections I was able to pull back some time without expending too much effort.  We came out of the woods and I realized we had less than a mile of open double track before the finished. I put the power down. Not a full sprint but a seated pace and I slowly clawed him back coming into the final corner. I was right on his wheel and I stood up for a sprint and as I passed him you could tell he was cooked. It was rewarding to be there in the end.

Overall, I’m extremely happy with the result. The complete lack of training in the last 10 weeks and still feeling a little sick should have kept me down, but I pushed through. I’ve got a long way to go, but I know that I have the support of my family and friends just like they have my support. In the recent past, I’ve had it tough, but I had help getting through. I only hope that when someone calls for my help,  I can be there for them like they were there for me.