If anything, racing in Colorado is going to make me loose any nerves whatsoever about racing at the national level. Again, at a local crit I was toeing the line with Exergy, MayMyRide, NOW, Team Type I... and a sundry of former national champions. But for some reason this time I wasn't nervous. I chatted casually on the line, got a good luck kiss, and held my position on the front row like I belonged there. The race went off, and in true Colorado fashion there was no "on hey lets just ride around." The field strung out and splintered in now time, and by lap 5 or 6 we were lapping riders. The first 10 min or so I had to get my wits about me. And stop thinking about who's wheel I was sitting on and start thinking about how I was 
going to move up. It was about this time that I realized the field had been whittled down to 12-15 women, all wanting to race hard and whittle the field down to 1. Attack after attack and each was chased down. It was organized, hard, aggressive. Everything I want racing to be. The boy (who had just had an awesome 2nd place finish in his race winning the field sprint) was screaming at me on every lap to move up, do less work, etc etc. His encouragement propelled me to get up front and launch a few of my own attacks, win a few primes, and feel like I belonged there. And then the heavens opened and we raced in a torrential downpour of a thunderstorm. And the pace didn't lessen, nor the attacks subside. We dropped a few more riders, and came across the line strung out, soaked and muddy. I was finally happy again with how I raced. Would I have liked to have placed higher? Of course. But being out here, still not fully acclimated to the altitude, still recovering from a broken bone, knowing I'm strong enough to hang with the ladies out here, and that my aggression is back, I'm exited for the rest of the season.
This morning I was reading some "tips from the pros" blog thing, and the importance of a support network in racing was brought up in a few different ways. And while it took a broken arm and a 2,000 mile move for me to realize it, I do need this support system. I have always had an amazing family who I love and to whom owe more debts that I could ever repay. However it is not until this past injury that I have come to understand what having that rock is all about, and how much it has improved my racing. And I honestly believe it's one of the reasons I'm back at this whole "I can be a bike racer" thing again. So, in no particular order, I've come up with a list of reasons why I, the self-asserted most independent and hard-headed person I know, need a pea to my carrot.
- I get faster. Dudes, here's a piece of advice. Drop your girlfriends/wives on anything but a recovery ride. And women, get angry, but not mad when they do. A huge mental barrier was broken down when I realized "he's trying to drop me because he thinks I can be better" not "he's being an ass, doesn't he realize we're riding together?" I believe love means pushing each other to be your best, and this doesn't happen in the comfort zone. (and, by the way, every once and a while I drop him now too.) Rather than letting me sit on the couch, I was plopped on the trainer.
-I'm calmer. This I didn't realize until I was broken. Now I know I'm intense and Type A and probably a bit over competitive. But the past few yeas have been so full board go that I never realized how the intensity in both my personal life and work effected my mood daily. It took me not being able to do anything for myself to be still long enough to realize that there is a strength in calmness.
- I'm bolder. Nothing will make you race hard like having your name screamed and someone else investing in you. When I was down, a huge motivation for me to get racing quickly was the time, money and effort that someone else had put in to my recovery and racing.
- Breakdowns don't lead to being mentally broken. At least twice (but probably more now) I've had meltdowns on the bike. Be it complete exhaustion or a hand that won't cooperate with shifting anymore, my minimeltdowns have been squashed before they were allowed to start. Apparently there's not crying in training. Or at least none tolerated.
- I don't have to do it all. I'm still getting used to the idea that there is someone who wants to help me, and enjoys it. And anticipates what I may need before I even know. Whether it's preemptively making another pot of coffee, showing up with a lattee when I'm neck deep in a paper, or changing hubs on race wheels, it really is the little things.
- I remembered why I love racing.
- I'm not judged for how much I eat.
- Laundry gets done (especially since there's so much of it!)
- And I will stop this before it gets mushy.
Racing last weekend was awesome. And it had nothing to do with the result. And everything to do with realizing the importance of my pea.
going to move up. It was about this time that I realized the field had been whittled down to 12-15 women, all wanting to race hard and whittle the field down to 1. Attack after attack and each was chased down. It was organized, hard, aggressive. Everything I want racing to be. The boy (who had just had an awesome 2nd place finish in his race winning the field sprint) was screaming at me on every lap to move up, do less work, etc etc. His encouragement propelled me to get up front and launch a few of my own attacks, win a few primes, and feel like I belonged there. And then the heavens opened and we raced in a torrential downpour of a thunderstorm. And the pace didn't lessen, nor the attacks subside. We dropped a few more riders, and came across the line strung out, soaked and muddy. I was finally happy again with how I raced. Would I have liked to have placed higher? Of course. But being out here, still not fully acclimated to the altitude, still recovering from a broken bone, knowing I'm strong enough to hang with the ladies out here, and that my aggression is back, I'm exited for the rest of the season. This morning I was reading some "tips from the pros" blog thing, and the importance of a support network in racing was brought up in a few different ways. And while it took a broken arm and a 2,000 mile move for me to realize it, I do need this support system. I have always had an amazing family who I love and to whom owe more debts that I could ever repay. However it is not until this past injury that I have come to understand what having that rock is all about, and how much it has improved my racing. And I honestly believe it's one of the reasons I'm back at this whole "I can be a bike racer" thing again. So, in no particular order, I've come up with a list of reasons why I, the self-asserted most independent and hard-headed person I know, need a pea to my carrot.
- I get faster. Dudes, here's a piece of advice. Drop your girlfriends/wives on anything but a recovery ride. And women, get angry, but not mad when they do. A huge mental barrier was broken down when I realized "he's trying to drop me because he thinks I can be better" not "he's being an ass, doesn't he realize we're riding together?" I believe love means pushing each other to be your best, and this doesn't happen in the comfort zone. (and, by the way, every once and a while I drop him now too.) Rather than letting me sit on the couch, I was plopped on the trainer.
-I'm calmer. This I didn't realize until I was broken. Now I know I'm intense and Type A and probably a bit over competitive. But the past few yeas have been so full board go that I never realized how the intensity in both my personal life and work effected my mood daily. It took me not being able to do anything for myself to be still long enough to realize that there is a strength in calmness.
- I'm bolder. Nothing will make you race hard like having your name screamed and someone else investing in you. When I was down, a huge motivation for me to get racing quickly was the time, money and effort that someone else had put in to my recovery and racing.
- Breakdowns don't lead to being mentally broken. At least twice (but probably more now) I've had meltdowns on the bike. Be it complete exhaustion or a hand that won't cooperate with shifting anymore, my minimeltdowns have been squashed before they were allowed to start. Apparently there's not crying in training. Or at least none tolerated.
- I don't have to do it all. I'm still getting used to the idea that there is someone who wants to help me, and enjoys it. And anticipates what I may need before I even know. Whether it's preemptively making another pot of coffee, showing up with a lattee when I'm neck deep in a paper, or changing hubs on race wheels, it really is the little things.
- I remembered why I love racing.
- I'm not judged for how much I eat.
- Laundry gets done (especially since there's so much of it!)
- And I will stop this before it gets mushy.
Racing last weekend was awesome. And it had nothing to do with the result. And everything to do with realizing the importance of my pea.
Glad to know that all my efforts to get an education, make a mark in science/medicine, and earn recognition through fellowships isn't having it all bc I do not want children or a spouse. Excellent. I gave up more than 10 yrs of my life to get a Ph.D. and feel like I do have it all. To be told that I don't by one woman who based her commentary on HER ideals only, is maddening.
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