Last season was a challenge. I didn't see a lot of success in racing in terms of results. I learned from my races, my mistakes, and I grew as bike racer. I hated crit and road racing. I struggled through them because I wanted to get better at them. I loved time trialing because it was me against a clock and I didn't have to worry about anyone else. Still, my results were weak. I decided to take up cyclocross so that I could maintain fitness over the winter. I didn't want to lose the physical gains I had made. Something changed during the fall. While cx races are similar to crits, they're very different as well. I fell in love with cyclocross. My results in cx were no better than my results in crits, but I was having fun. I looked forward to Sunday at noon. I had withdrawals when the season ended in December. It propelled me enough to keep riding, it kept me going in 12 degree weather. I trained through the cold. I was ready for Froze Toes. I actually made the break on that race. The first crit of the season arrived and something was very different. I was competitive and I was having fun. All season I've built on my successes. I still don't like road races, but have grown to love the fast-paced tempo of the crit.
I've planned this season with the end in mind. I had two goals: win the mobra competition and take home a state jersey. I didn't care which of the three state jerseys I took, I would be happy with any of them. The state road race was first, and I bonked terribly. That was okay because there was still two to go. Then I crashed last week. I have put pressure on myself to rehab and recover from it so that I could be my best. I skipped no workout and took more acetomeniphin and ibuprofen than I have in the past year. I raced the time trial yesterday and did the best I could. I knew going into the race I hadn't focused on training for time trialing, so my goal was to be strong. I was. But I didn't win.
It all came down to today. I felt great this morning, nervous, but great. I got to the course, registered, dropped off my wheels and got ready. I got a great warm up and pulled to the line. There were only four of us: Britta, Kate, Nicole and me. Instructions, whistle, go. Kate and I sat on the front for about half a lap and Britta pushed passed. She wanted to work, fine with me. She pulled three laps before she sat up. I moved in line and took a lap. Kate took her turn. Somewhere Nicole fell off. And that's how it went. We took our turns, did our work and went round and round. Six to go, five, four, three, two and I took my pull. We came around the last turn on the course and I sat up to let Kate take her pull. I moved in behind Britta. We went past the start finish, around turn one and into turn two and Kate took off. I stayed on Britta's wheel and she reacted well to Kate. She was back on Kate's wheel by the bottom of the hill. The pace stayed high as we climbed and did the small descent before the steep climb. On the climb, Britta went around Kate. I stayed on her wheel. I was going to let her lead me out. We zigged through the parking lot portion and made the final turn. I went close on the inside. Scraped, slide, fear. My pedal hit the curb. My back tire fishtailed. I held onto the bike and recovered. I went wide and came close to the curb on the other side but straightened out. Britta was riding away with it. I was up and working. Spin and gear, spin and gear. I was gaining. Spin and gear. I was driving that bike as hard as I could. I was on her wheel. Up to her pedal. There's her fork. There's the finish. I didn't make it.
I dropped my head in disbelief. All of this for second; no jersey. My spirit dropped. I congratulated Britta and Kate for good racing. I smiled as I talked to teammates who told me I raced well. But it wasn't what I wanted. I text and emailed the people who needed to know my result and headed up for a medal. I pushed Kate to check about the jersey from yesterday and she won it. I'm so happy for her because she'd focused on the tt all season and her work paid off. I'm glad she and I rode to the race together, because it would have been a long two hour drive home alone in the mood I was in. I put my bag down when I got home and pouted. Klucker tried to boost me. He and Steph had already reminded me that I have a strong, solid lead in Mobra and that's more impressive than one race. Yeah, whatever. I was still down. I wanted the win. I wanted the jersey. (Maybe I should have listened better to that "Thou shall not covet" message in Sunday school.)
I finally went to shower and put my wet clothes away. As I was cleaning out my bag, I grabbed my medal to show the kids. They love any bling I bring home and are always happy for me.
Then I went to hang my medal on the mirror where I keep them. Wow, so that's what I've done this season. And oh my, those are all from this season. Ok, so today didn't end how I would have liked. I wanted the jersey. I may never win one, I realize this. For me, this seemed like my best chance. What I did do today, was race well. I held a wheel and worked how I wanted to work. I positioned myself where I wanted to be. I answered the attacked. I held through a skid and recovered. I sprinted like I stole the bike. I will be ok. I will race Gateway Cup and finish my season strong. And, barring something unforeseen, I will win Mobra. It's a good perspective to have.
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