There I sat in a state of delirium. I was tired, confused, and medically fragile caused by an intense state of exhaustion and an overconsumption of dense electrolyte based sports drinks which led to a state of intoxication. My legs were past the point of lactic pain and moving quickly into a dead detached feeling. My triceps were on fire from railing technical descents. My nerves were non-existent, my gumption stripped from my being. I felt as if I was imprisoned by my own ambition to do something great. But worst of all I was sad. I was sad because I knew that from this point on I was going to have to move forward. I was going to have to accept my failed expectations and live with them. I was going to have to learn to live in the present rather than the future, and although it may not be true today…at the time, the present sucked! This was all my choice; I brought it all upon myself.
One of my most fond cycling memories comes from a few seasons back at the Superweek Pro Tour in Wisconsin. Fellow teammate Scott Kroske had a bad day on the bike. He was struggling with keeping the rubber side down all season, as he is notorious for. This day he found his carcass once again meeting the pavement in the Cat. 3 road race. As he circled around the course into the pits for some bodily/equipment inspection, colorful cuss words rolled off his tongue like a sailor. He was desperately trying to regain composure to enter back in the race while the SRAM neutral support mechanics quickly worked on his machine and got it back in race-worthy order. Scott continued to holler and complain about his misfortune. Jose Acala, SRAM mechanic and former WSC member, looked as Scott as he gave him his bike back and muttered some great words that will always resonate with me. He told Scott, “You know Mr. Kroske; there are easier, more safe sports you can try”. A few simple words managed to quickly put everything into perspective for him and he rolled onward to finish the race.
As I sat defeated in the Mountains of Canmore, embarrassed by my showing, Stuart Dorland of 24hrs of Adrenalin approached me. We spoke at great length as he assessed whether or not I was mentally and physically OK. I can’t really tell you too much of what we talked about that day but I do remember one thing. He suggested that the next 24hr race I do, I try it on a team rather than solo. His suggestion was not based on his doubt that I was not cut out for 24hr solo racing, after all I had qualified for the World Championships, he was merely suggesting that I reacquaint myself with how fun this form of racing can be when the pressure to perform is alleviated a bit. To be honest, I really didn’t think too much at the time about what he said, I was way too preoccupied with reveling in my sorrow and disappointment.
You are only as good as your next race.
As the conclusion of this season neared I found I was struggling to keep a sharp focus on my objectives. In fact, I really didn’t have any objectives anymore. Two weeks ago, I decided to try my hand at Crit racing once again only to find that I served as nothing more than a financial donation to the race, as well as colorful scenery to help increase the numbers of the pack. But alas, I raced anyway…because after all that’s what I do, I race bikes. It’s what I know and it’s what’s comfortable.
Upon the completion of the Labor Day Rock City Crit, one of Angela’s uncles who had come out to spectate, turned to me and said something no one has ever said to me after a bike race. He said, “Hey Tim, that was a good try”. I had turned myself inside out for 90 minutes, heart rate elevated and muscles quivering, only to do nothing more than roll in amidst the rest of the pack fodder and to donate $40 to the race promoters. “Good try?” it sounds like such a short coming. Good tries are for darts, or horse shoes, or something as simple as trying to toss a crumbled piece of paper into a garbage can. It seems to me that years of dedication, sweat, and tears culminated in 90 minutes of pain must be represented by something more than “good try”. I tried to explain to him that every rider in that Pro ½ field has dedicated more hours to their sport than the average professional baseball, football, or basketball player raking in 7 figure salaries. In the midst of my frustration, I realized that he was right, it doesn’t matter what the outcome was that day, and my performance was nothing more than a “good try”.
I can’t speak for all the other passionate people in the world, but I think I sometimes tend to put my craft on a pedestal simply because I feel it should be deservedly there due to the sheer amount of hours I put into it. My dedication should mean something, right? However, regardless of the numbers of my wins or losses, all of this really means nothing more than exactly what it is and what we personally perceive it to be.
As the season concluded I needed to shift my focus from ambitious and lofty goals to one simple thing: having fun.
So this past weekend, I decided to take Stuart Dorland’s advice and enter a 24hr race on a four man team with no other agenda in mind than having fun. On Friday, I quickly rushed home from school, as excited as a young boy on Christmas morning, threw all of my gear in a bag, and rushed to Grayling, MI to race the 24hrs of Hanson Hills.
My composite team consisted of three other talented riders from other teams. Ben Renkema of Kenda Pro Cycling/Spinergy, Nate Williams of the Bissell Elite Cycling Team, and Brian Bangma owner and racer of the Grand Rapids Bicycle Company.
Soon after the race started, the campfire was lit, the first moon lady was cracked, and the stories and jokes started flowing in between laps I realized that I had engaged in exactly what I needed at the time.
24 hours ended up passing faster than I ever knew it could and in the end the product was a team Victory in the 4-Man Elite Category as well as a wealth of fun. I didn’t take myself too seriously. I wasn’t too focused on lap times, I simply rode the trail to have fun and enjoy the atmosphere.
I rediscovered exactly why I love this sport at a very critical time. The race served as an optimal catalyst to erase any resonating failed expectations from this past season and recharge my battery for next season.
You are only as good as your next race. But for now, you may as well have fun. Even if it occasionally takes some reminding…that is what’s it’s all about…fun.
