The Dirt Field

Someone close to me recently raised some questions about my racing in relation to my life, but I couldn’t find words to respond at the time. Since I’m better in writing than I am on the spot, here are my thoughts on the conversation. Why am I responding to them here? Well, chances are you’re either somebody with similar questions, or you’re a bike racer that will completely understand where I’m coming from, or you’re really bored at work and it’s either this or another thirty minutes browsing Craigslist.

1. You don’t seem happy with racing; in fact, all you seem to do is complain and express doubts.

I rarely seem happy with anything. Frankly, I think it’s just my personality. When I am riding, unless it is a terrible workout or a crap day on the bike, I am very happy. The only witnesses to that, however, are usually trees and squirrels. As far as the complaining goes, I can’t help it; if you ask me how a ride was, it’s a reflex to say it was hard or that I’m tired and sore. Those are good things, though.

2. Are the rewards really worth all the stress/effort/time/money?

Sometimes. When I have great rides or races, when I win or accomplish my goals, then it feels like all of the expenses, monetary and otherwise, are worthwhile. When I fly to Colorado and then suck my way through a race, it feels somewhat less worthwhile. But the same could be said for any activity or pursuit; at any moment, the balance of work versus reward is shifting and often one is more than the other. Bike racing is hard, stressful, and expensive, but it is also exhilarating, physically beneficial (except for all the injuries), challenging, and a lot of fun. I suppose at the very end of my racing career, I could look back and try to say whether or not it was worth it, but at that point I think the answer will definitely be yes. Otherwise I would probably not go ride my bike today.

3. You don’t exactly have the personality for this type of competition.

No shit. But I know that, and it doesn’t make me feel any better or change my mind about my goals to hear it from somebody else. I am still going to try to be a professional racer. That means that in addition to working on my legs and my aerobic system and my technical skills, I also need to work on my head. But my head needed help anyway and few racers don’t have any mental issues to work through on their quest for world domination on a bicycle.

4. I want to hear you say how much you love this sort of thing.

And I want the new SRAM XX component set and also a bag of diamonds. I am not the kind of person that talks earnestly about my hopes and dreams and feelings, so it won’t work to base any assessment of how I feel about something on how much I share my positive thoughts about it. I haven’t been shy in the past about quitting things; law school, lacrosse, marriage, etc. so chances are that if I am still getting on my bike, I like it. If I’m still getting on my bike at 10pm despite being exhausted, stressed, grumpy, and/or injured, I probably stilllove it somewhere deep inside.

5. Will make you happy in the long run?

Let’s hope. I’ll let you know in fifty years.

6. I want to hear you say something positive about biking.

I love riding my bike. I like rock gardens and nice singletrack and going fast and having a valid excuse for eating eleven meals a day. I like the structure biking adds to my life and the way it forces me to make healthy choices. Before I started riding, I smoked various tobacco products regularly, I drank whenever and whatever I wanted, I stayed up far too late, and sat around far too much. Bobby and I would buy a bottle of vodka, mix it with some Diet Mountain Dew, and finish the whole bottle in a single night while smoking, picking loud fights with each other (including one where I knocked him out with a boot), and eating junk food. Now that I train, I stick to a single beer or glass of wine on most occasions, I avoid even being near cigarettes, and Bobby and I use boots only for wearing in poor weather. Sometimes the rigid structure of eating healthy, avoiding excesses, and training constantly is annoying and limiting, but it also keeps me healthy and focused on a goal that adds meaning to life. I would say that is something positive about biking.

7. Perhaps you should explore other interests.

People don’t generally get lucky enough to be really good at multiple things. I enjoy biking and happen to be pretty good at it, which makes dropping that and looking for something else seem pointless. If I want to be riding my bike, why would I take up playing the violin or painting ceramics instead? It’s not like my life is just biking, anyways. I do ride and race, but I also work, have friends, do some writing, and eat my way through each day.

8. I just hate to see you putting yourself through so much.

Please don’t worry so much; fussing drives me nuts and it isn’t going to make me feel better or keep me safer. Part of being a competitive athlete means knowing when something (an injury, fatigue, etc.) is a reason to stop and when it is a reason to toughen up and keep going. I am still learning how to decide which is which, but I am not completely clueless, so please trust that I can handle some bumps and bruises and aches without breaking into a million pieces and expiring. I’m young, I’m rubbery, I’ll bounce. Don’t worry. I like being sore and damaged; it means I had a good ride.