Thursday, July 19, 2012

Iron Hill: The Race of Truth


Most people describe time trialing as the "race of truth," since it's just you vs. the clock.  But this year it hasn't really come down to me vs. any clocks, but rather me vs. dropped chains, me vs. dislocated ribs, and after Parkesburg's lap counter blooper, apparently me vs. regularly descending integers. 

There were no excuses at Iron Hill.  The team had great race support, I didn't make any "stupid mistakes," and yet somehow everything I managed to do was stupid.  I got scared before the race even started; every time we'd move closer to the starting line I'd give up a wheel or two in fear of crashing at the whopping um...3 miles an hour we were doing.  Jenny kept her cool at the front.

A crash at the beginning scared me and I thought about quitting.  Apparently even the people involved were less scared, since they all got back in on the free lap.  I slowly slipped to the back (even though that's not necessarily safer) and hoped to compensate for it later.  This is a technique that used to work for me, but when it was time to move up I just yelled at the rider in front of me to hold her line (she was not actually in the way at all, but when you're that scared, everyone seems to be in the way), then threw up in my mouth and sat up.  Jenny sprinted for an awesome 11th place, and I yo-yoed at the back for 26th. 

Obviously training can improve some physiological issues, but the mental ones might be tricky.  I've been given instructions for meditation and self-talk.  A less conventional suggestion came from my friend Rick, who suggested I'm just not angry enough this year.  He used to yell "Hey Wander, unicorns aren't real," at the start of races, just to piss me off.  I usually did well.  Just to cover all bases, I'll take both approaches here: let the meditation begin, and BTW, if anyone would like to stage a fight in the parking lot before a race, I'm in.

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