The Dirt Field

So yesterday sucked. It was just a race and shouldn’t be that big of a deal, but I’d had a lot of hopes pinned on the outcome of Green Mountain. The crit was supposed to be where I would end the stage race on a high, try to get that sprinter’s jersey, and get back on the podium. I wanted to spend the 10+ hours driving home reflecting happily on the satisfaction of wrapping up the whole event with some great results. Instead, I left Vermont wet, miserable, unsatisfied, and with an unrelenting headache.

To be so derailed by the cancellation is a bit silly. I mean, I sat on a park ledge in Burlington in the pouring rain and cried. And then I cried on route 22A and route 4 and 87 south and all through Albany.

That’s ridiculous. Strictly from a hydration perspective, one should not hemorrhage water so carelessly.

When I heard the race was off and there was nothing I could do about it, it felt like a huge letdown and a door closing all at once, which is kind of dumb, because it was just what happened and shouldn’t matter so much. I still rode well, got a 2nd place result in a stage, climbed a mountain, and had a good trip to Vermont. It was just one race. Not the culmination of a season, not a make or break for earning a pro contract, not a sign of whether or not I’m going to win the world championships one day. In other words, just one small part of life as a competitive athlete.

There are a few wonderful people I talk to in the cycling world who keep me grounded. They remind me when I start getting too anxious, too wrapped up in results and getting on a team, that I do this because I love it and that I should never be afraid to race because I’m worried about what people will think of my results. I forget this constantly – half of my devastation yesterday was because I didn’t get a chance to get ‘impressive’ results that I could send to a team. But when I think about that now, I want to tattoo “Do This For YOU” on my arm.

If somebody can turn that into a black design using some Asian character, I actually might.

I feel better today. Calmer, with things more in perspective. Now I’m just unhappy that I didn’t get to race yesterday, because for all the anxiety and tension it causes, I love to race. When the chance is taken away, I’m reminded of how much I want to be racing. It feels like some weird ache, a longing to compete, to work hard, to race my heart out like it seems I’m meant to do.

There are two more races on my calendar for the season. I’m not so far committed to mental health that I’m ready to say the results don’t matter, but I do know that more than anything, getting a chance to try matters. Win or lose, dominate or suck, hell or high water, I want to be on my bike trying.