I have been racing since 2008. In the past 6 years I’ve averaged 20 races a
year. I think…I am…getting burned
out. Or something. I’m not sure, but I just haven’t been my
usual self. And it doesn’t help that I
lost my race buddy (Tom’s crash that has put him out of commission this
summer). This year I just don’t have that spark I used to, that makes me dig
deep.
So today I had just left my house for a road ride, turning
from my road onto Clazemont in Montpelier.
As I started up the shallow long hill, I heard “on your left”. “What?” is my typical response, not as in “I
didn’t hear you”, but as in “Oh no you don’t, you are not going to pass me!”
(Old habits die hard even though my biking Spirit is weak lately.) I stood up to start banging the pedals and
looked to my left and lo and behold it was Frank Yeager, my teammate. It’s the first time I’ve seen a teammate
while I’ve started a ride from my house.
Instantly, I think partly because it was Frank and I knew I didn’t have
much of a chance, and partly because of my weak bike spirit, and partly because
I’m not in great shape right now (not training hard because of the weak bike
spirit), I just sat back down and didn’t chase.
Background- since I started riding I’ve always been a chaser, like a dog
I can’t let a road bike pass me without trying to stay on their wheel.
I slogged my way to the top of the hill, feeling sorry for
myself…then when I got to the flat part, I saw him at the stop sign turning
right onto Taylor’s Creek. That was
where I was going. He was quite a ways
away from me, just a small speck…but something in me went “I can’t let this go,
I’ve got to try to get him” (maybe it was that I had finished the hill, or that
I had a little warm-up, or mostly that I wanted to give myself a second chance). So I put my bike in the big ring and started
hammering. The old chase spirit came
back. My legs eventually started
burning, I was breathing hard- and it felt good to suffer, the way it used to. I don’t think I’ve pushed myself in a
while. It felt good too, passing two
other bicyclists that he had passed. And
after a couple of miles I realized I was gaining on him! Slowly, but steadily I was reeling him in.
About 4 miles-ish up the road, when I was so much closer,
maybe 75 yards from him, he turned right onto Centreville Road. I was going straight, so the chase was done, but
I felt good- it had lit that old fire again.
I’m not sure if it will stay lit or not, but now I know the embers are
still there…and for that I thank you Frank.
And please, let me have this…don’t tell me if you weren’t going hard on
Taylor’s Creek, if that was some recovery spin for you- I don’t want to know. Leave me with this spark of hope.
