A lot has happened since my last post so here is a little
recap to put some context on this post.
I had very high hopes for the season. Going back to January,
I started working at the local airport part time to make what coaching wasn’t
covering in the budget, and although the work was physical it wasn’t affecting
my training too much. The hours were a little tough which put sleeping and a
social life at odds, but through the winter and spring I was able to train in
the middle of the day when the sun was out. And training was going well, the
number were going up, and I seemed to be breaking through to a new level, at
least when it came to threshold.
But as I began to plan my season out another characteristic
of my job became more of a problem, I worked weekend and getting time off was
not only going to be difficult to do for all the weekend I wanted as one might
expect, getting any time off was a challenge because the station is chronically
shorthanded. To make a long story short, I only managed to race 2 times by the
time July came around. I raced the opener and the second race of the Northwest
Epic Series, a 4 race series consisting of 50+ mile MTB races. I was able to
win both those races, as a result of being on great form. But The lack of
consistent racing was taking a toll mentally on me.
MTB nationals came around and I made sure I was able to go,
pulling all kinds of favors. And it turned into a great weekend. The result
didn’t quiet measure up, but seeing Tim and Evie, and a long list of other good
friends all again, the ability to ride in such an amazing place, and of course
the thrilling competition reminded me of just how special racing is, and how
lucky I was to be able to do what I did the last couple years. It also
motivated me to no end to get back to that level and ability to travel. I felt
unfinished, and I still do.
With a few more races on the calendar, I worked to make sure
I was getting out as much as possible, and unfortunately the only one I was
able to swing was Chequamegon. The lack of racing continued to wear on me, and
it reached a bit of a breaking point. About 2 weeks after nationals I just
decided I needed to take a break and re-evaluate where I was and what I was
doing. About a month of time off and I began to get the itch to at least train
again, and as Chequamegon grew closer, I resigned to becoming content with what
I thought was an inevitable disappointing finish. But the race was too
important to skip, it’s important for more than just the race, it’s family,
community, and it’s tradition.
The weekend itself started off with a challenging time
getting to the midwest, almost not making my flight. But I managed to make it,
get a rental car and drive up. I was very relaxed and focused on spending time
with family and having fun. It was amazing seeing everyone, all the people that
make up the midwest MTB community. I felt like a winner before Saturday even
rolled around.
But when Saturday did roll around, despite my attitude and
expectation, it was a very sudden and easy shift to put all the focus on the
race. I guess I’ve been racing long enough that when the race starts, the only
thing I know how to do is go all in because I was focused. This was my 14th
chequamegon, and my 7th 40.
After the anthem was finished and we put our helmets back
on, the ATVs started up and we rolled down main street. This is an interesting
time of the race. For the leaders it’s a mix of light hearted, calm before the
storm, and an important time to focus and get ready for the effort. The race
hasn’t even begun yet, but one misstep and it could be over. We make the left
and then the right onto the highway and with each pedal stroke, nerves tense,
and legs twitch. You can feel the speed and intensity building as the effort
very slowly starts to build until the quads take off.
I was waiting for it, and I knew I could hang. You never
forget how to pack surf, and that’s what I did. I’ve raced enough years now
that I know when you need to be at the front, and I know how far back is too
far. What I’ve gotten better and better at is doing it effortlessly. We make
the small climb up a slight right and Rosie’s field is in sight. This is the
first hurdle to clear. Timing your entry into the field so that you don’t get
pushed back is critical. Over the years they have opened it up and it’s made it
safer which we all appreciate. I nailed it this year and was sitting top 10
through the field and onto the trail on the other side.
As the front group made it onto the trail the first signs or
effort start to show a couple riders fall back and the front group forms. I
kept waiting for the effort to overwhelm me, but to my surprise it didn’t’ I
made a few mistakes before OO, but was able to maintain position. At this point
there was nothing left in my mind except the race and the effort, but I had
felt like I’d already surpassed my expectations.
Eventually I got tailed off as I made a bad move through a
puddle, I was able to catch on, but that was the start of the end. I caught on,
lost it, caught on, tail gunned for a while and eventually was totally off up
fire tower. But the fact I’d made it to fire tower in the front felt pretty
cool. The rest of the race I was chasing hard with David Lombardo and Mark
Lalonde, until I lost them on the Birkie Trail. I ended the day in 11th,
a very good finish regardless, but something I am proud of considering the year
so far.
I learned a lot from the race, about myself, the midwest
community that I miss very much, and about the race that I care deeply for. A
big thing I’ve been learning about this whole year and was punctuated with
Chequamegon was that my motivation to train is mostly rooted in racing. I love
to ride my bike, and I can ride and train without racing, but to train at the
level I do, it takes more than just enjoying the time on the bike, you have to
be ambitious, motivated, and extremely hungry. Not everyday is a wonderful day
on the bike, I’ve found that training take you high and low. And I feel as
though I’ve been to both, but the payoff is showing up to a race and giving it
your all, the payoff is in the performance when it counts. I wasn’t getting
that this year and it made it tough to train and at a certain point I broke.
Another big thing I learned about myself, twice, is that
even after time away from the bike I can hold onto the fitness. I was very
worried that after the time I took off, I would lose a lot of the fitness and
racing ability I’d spent years working on and what I came to find both at
nationals and at Chequamegon was that I’ve built something that can’t be taken down
easily. I often tell my clients that training is like building a brick house.
Each workout, each day, each effort, they are bricks on the house and once laid
they are there to stay, but I don’t always listen to myself.
Finally, I learned just how special the midwest cycling
community really is, both as a community, and personally to me. Everyone is so
welcoming, and at the first sight its smiles, memories, and picking right back
up, even after almost a year away. It’s amazing, and I’m lucky to be a part of
it, even though I’m thousands of miles away. I still feel like a Midwesterner.
And I still bring the pain every time I toe the line at a race. There is a grit
and determination that I learned from racing in the midwest, and I will never
lose that.
The rest of my season will be somewhat low key. I’ll be
moving on to Cyclocross by hitting up as many of the MFG series as I can out in
Seattle. Hopefully planting some roots as part of that community as well. I’ll
also be hitting rolling thunder in Missoula, an amazing and fun race in
October, and I’ll be working hard to make next year go a little better and make
sure I line up at a ton more races, make my way to the midwest a lot more, and
take a few steps closer to knocking out some big time goals.
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