This is definitely the strangest season I’ve ever had. I felt good in March and April and have felt steadily worse as the year progresses. I haven’t found any true form and for sure, I haven’t hit a peak. You might say the year is going backwards.
Case in point was the Brooklyn Grand Prix in Prospect Park this past Saturday. After several attempts, a teammate attacked and opened a gap with a couple of other riders on the fifth or sixth lap (of 13) so I went to the front to cover. No one seemed interested in chasing, so Sayid and I set up shop in the front riding tempo – hard enough to keep others at bay, easy enough so we wouldn’t be pulling the break back (a funny thing about riding at the front, you see things you miss when you are staring at the wheel of the guy in front of you. I happened to notice a bic razor on the race course, and for two laps, I just kept wondering how the razor got there.) Anyway, as we hit the hill, an attack went up the left side, and I knew what my job was, I just couldn’t do it. I got up to catch on the back of the attack only to find I was out of gas. I had told Sayid, “I got this this” then had to tell him “You have to go; I’m done” all within a matter of seconds.” It ended up being all I could do not to get spit out the back on the hill. The middle of July should be a peak period for me.
Not that any of this really matters. Two separate incidents reminded me of this. A friend, also a cyclist, found out the night before that his wife just found out she has a tumor. They’re not sure if it’s malignant or not, or what the treatment and long-term effects will be in either case. Having lost my father to cancer, it struck a sensitive nerve. My heart and thoughts are with my friend’s wife.
On top of that, I had to take my son to the emergency room Saturday evening (in fact, I’m writing this, having come home to check emails, check in on my daughter and grab some fresh clothes before I head back for a 3rd night sleeping at the hospital). Looks like he’s got bronchitis, and he’s getting better, but I was genuinely scared for a while there (not to mention completely comatose, as I got up at 4:30am Saturday to race, didn’t have a chance to grab a nap post-race, and finally got to sleep at the hospital about 3 am on Sunday after he’d been admitted.)
Anyway, these two incidents gave me the reality check I need every so often when it comes to putting cycling in its proper place. I love to ride, I enjoy racing and I take cycling very seriously – I don’t see a point in doing something only partially. But at the end of the day, this has always been about riding with my friends, getting fit and having fun. And so, while, I’m not having the season I was hoping I would, I have to be content that I’m still able to get out and train and race and do so at a decent level. By no means the top level mind you – if you win every race in New York City, while a tremendous accomplishment and one to be very proud of, you are still just a local amateur rider and nothing more - but a good level all the same. That’s not sour grapes or me raining on the winners’ parade. The folks winning my races and finishing ahead of me are all excellent riders who are far better than I am. I’d love to be among them. I’m just stating a simple fact.
That’s why the conversation that took place after the race not only infuriated me, but left me wondering what planet I live on. A junior rolled up on Sayid (who is also our team manager) and said he wanted to ride for us. Actually, he had ridden for us, our sponsor has a terrible habit of tossing out jerseys like candy, but he “wasn’t feeling the love, did we want him or not?” What “the love” ended up being was a bike and clothing which is what he asked Sayid to give him and which he wanted in time for a race the next day. Are you kidding me? Seriously, what the (expletive deleted)?
We’ve had a couple of guys jump ship this year because they got some carrot dangled in front of them which is what begets this self-centered, I am the king attitude from guys who haven’t even won a Cat. 5 race. The sense of entitlement is beyond belief, especially when you go back to the fact that at the end of the day, we’re talking about racing in New York City, that well known hotbed of cycling talent that has produced a handful of pros, and a small handful at that. Again, nothing against the New York racing season, it’s tough to win here, but this isn’t the Tour de France, the Pro Tour or the US NRC for that matter.
This stuff happens all the time. Every winter, the team ranks swell with guys who are the best this or the best that, who then proceed to get dropped in their first Cat. 5 or Cat. 4 race. They make it to maybe three races before we never see them again, and by the time May rolls around, it’s the same seven guys who form our core that race every weekend. It’s been the same seven guys since I came back from Italy and started riding for this team. It’s the same six guys (I’m one of the seven) whose company I enjoy immensely and who make the racing and the riding fun. As James, one of the gang of seven, said “Everybody’s a racer until there’s a race.”
So my simple answer to said junior is, if you want a bike, go check out the bike shop, they have quite a few last time I checked and if you want a jersey, the kit costs about $120 a pop. Heck, race 20 times for us, and you can get some of the modest sponsorship money that Sayid and I bust our hump for every year. You’re kit will only cost about $100 then. Otherwise, go find a team that will give you want you want. And remember the addage “be careful what you wish for.” If you are getting something, so is everyone else, so the team leaders won’t think twice about telling you to sacrifice your race for someone who is better. Oh, and there’s always some who is better than you.
And yes, it was uphill in both directions when I went to elementary school.
That’s today’s view from the back.
Share This Post: add to del.icio.us | Digg it | Stumble It! | Add to Facebook
