The MS150 Redux

The MSRide and I have some history. We have an on-again/off-again relationship that is tenuous at best. I rode my first MS150 in 2004. That year, it was a fairly last minute decision and my team was made up of Klucker and me. I remember struggling through the hills on the second day, not knowing if I could make it. I rode again in 2005, in better shape, but seven weeks pregnant with my angel baby. On day two that year, I puked at the first three rest stops and cried at one as well. I persevered and made it. 2006 saw me seven months pregnant and making PBJ sandwiches at a rest stop. I definitely preferred riding. I returned to riding it in 2007, with little training. I wrenched my knee 40 miles in and sagged back to the start. Since 2007, I scoffed at any suggestion I attempt such foolishness. First, I hate asking people for money. Oh, I typically donate to everyone who asks, but I'm not asking. And second, I really never got into the whole party on a bike atmosphere with thousands of people I don't know.

This biking season arrived and so did the talk of the MSRides. My compadre Steph was leading a group of women to the Memphis edition of the ride. Liz was recruiting for the Gateway MS. I wondered if they had lost their minds. I was racing PICX and E'ville that weekend. To heck with their silliness.

Then July stretched into August and the state crit was a disappointment to me. Racing was wearing me ragged. I need something fun to do. And we ordered a few too many pitchers of gatorade at TQs one night. Never say never because I registered for the Gateway MSRide and sent requests for money out to folks. The salted glass gets me every time. At least I didn't agree to camp.

I won't give a blow by blow of the weekend and the riding like I do in most of my race reports, but I will share my insights about my riding.

I am a group ride snob. There are certain pieces of etiquette one must follow when riding with more than one other person. Communication being the most important one. Let me know where you're going if you're not going to ride in a straight line parallel to the side of the road. And don't ride more than two abreast...that doesn't mean one at the white and one at the yellow. Oh, and if you're stopping suddenly, please tell me. The other one is take your turn at the front. The wind is a b!+ch, don't make me fight it the whole day. I love my Saturday Big Shark and Hub rides, these are never issues there. It's organized, everyone knows what to expect and what to do. It's full of peace, harmony, and hand signals.

As a new cyclist, I hated hills. I would see one looming before me and feel the panic attack start. I had an innate fear of not being able to turn over the pedals. I thought I would get part way up, freeze, and fall over. I've learned how to appreciate hills. I have the skills to attack them and the outlook that I will conquer them. My next loathing became the wind. At least with the hills, there was an end in sight and a respite on the descent. The wind is a relentless adversary. But the more I've ridden in windy conditions, the more I've resigned myself not to fight. I don't like the wind, but I can't do anything about it. I just hunker down and spin. This weekend I elevated something else to the top of my demon list--bad pavement. Those quaint Amish or Mennonite horse and buggies have chewed the pavement like a mouse chews old newspaper. Chip and seal sucks, but Boone County needs to invest in something. I swore the welds on my frame were going to come undone on some of those stretches.

This summer has given me a lot of insight into group dynamics, and the MS ride provided more action research material for me. I have learned a lot about the way one or two changes in a group of people can really make a difference in the way a group behaves, whether those are additions or subtractions. I like to watch the different ways people conduct themselves in the presence or absence of others. I know I fall victim to this, and was a lot more subdued on Saturday night than I have been in other situations. It intrigues me to see the different sides that people have. It was fascinating to watch the interactions between people the longer we were together. It definitely led me to new hypotheses. My predictions are getting better with time, and as I become a more skillful observer (and learn to be silent, like the ever watchful sphinx, at the right moment).

In that same spirit of being a lifelong learner, I learned a new word a few weeks ago, pathlete. Someone had thrown it out on stlbiking, and I had to Google it. Over the weekend, I was exposed to quite a few of these folks--goes back to me being a group ride snob. One of the most impressive ones who zoomed past us in his capped-sleeve, baggy t-shirt, with arm warmers that sagging. I wouldn't have given much thought to him, except for we all stopped at a rest stop. Our group didn't stay long and was regrouping to hit the road when I heard him say, "If I hurry, I'll catch you again." I'm not sure what the payout was for the MS, but it must have been sweet because this guy chased us down and crossed the yellow to make sure he was ahead. Really, if you have that much of a need to show your stuff, TNWs are only $10/week. You can do the whole series for you fundraised for this weekend...and you may learn to hold a line to boot.

My first MS rides were filled with the mantra, "Only 10 miles between rest stops. You can ride for 10 more miles." The longest stretch I would do was from the start to rest stop 2 because I quickly learned that stopping at the first one was a clear sign of a love of chaos. I go out on my long rides, 3.5 or 4 hours, and only stop if I need water. Very rarely do I get off, walk around and spend time socializing with the riders I'm with until after we're all finished. But those rest stops are inviting: orange wedges, peanut butter/ jelly grahams, homemade ice cream and pies. I found myself having to practice restraint to not veer to the right, their tawdry draw. I say this, because I know the longer I spend off the bike, the harder it is to get going again. My legs tighten, my resolve waivers. They are so appealing, yet so, so bad. When I got home and looked up the calories (290) on one of those amazing peanut butter/jelly grahams and that bolstered my view on the maliciousness of those sinful oases.

All playing aside, the weekend was good for me. I began the weekend with some guilt about not racing Saturday and Sunday, because after all I am a wanna-be bike racer. That was juxtapositioned with a tiredness and sullen nature about racing in general. Sunday morning as I got ready, I had a momentary thought about texting Ryan and telling him to ride on his own because I was going to E'ville. (I did have a racing kit with me just in case.) I'm glad I didn't. It was relaxing and undemanding. It gave me a chance to ride how I wanted, not how I needed to in order to prepare for the next event on my schedule. More than anything, it was as much a mental training ride as a physical endeavor: well-needed, well-executed, valuable.

Benton Park Classic

Monday's Gateway Cup Races featured a new venue: Benton Park. T had suggested the neighborhood to Mike and was right--it was outstanding. There were ten corners in the 1.7 miles course, including a chicane. We crossed I-55 twice and an almost perfect 200M finishing straight.

The women and men were once again split. I watched the men's race from the trainer and was surprised to see how strung out the field became. This should have given me an idea of what was to come.

We went 23 deep to the line today. Most of the girls had been in the three previous races, so were racing on legs as tired as mine. The first lap started fast. By the time we hit turn three, I felt like I was struggling to keep up. A good showing in this race was important to me; my brother was there, his first race this season. Lap 2 I was still struggling. Where were my legs? How did these girls all have it and I didn't? Lap 3 brought a prime. As we headed to the line, I was nowhere near in it, and it was gapping me. I was off the back. Holy Campagnolo! How did this happen? And why today?

I hit Corner 4 and Klucker was giving me gap times. I realized T was off as well. Hannah (Team Pegasus) was in front of me, but off the back too. T and I got together and took turns. Mike yelled to us to work together. We did. We caught up to Hannah. Soli joined us as well. Within a lap, of jumping on us, Soli took off. At that point, I was ready to let her go. I wasn't ready to go after her. T, Hannah, and I our turns. We eventually chased Soli down and she got on the group. It felt like we were falling further and further behind and the gap was growing. Klucker's time announced verified that. We were up to 20 seconds off.

We went around and got the three to go card. Hannah was pulling. I was reflecting. I had three choices, and not a lot of time to decide. I could stay where I was and work with these girls for the next three laps and hope they didn't out sprint me. I could go off on a flyer, and possibly blow up--I would end up back here. I could go off on a flyer, and try to get on the pack. To me, at that moment, worst case scenario was where I was. I knew after turn 4, the course got a bit technical: lots of turns in quick succesion. The pack would have to slow, a single rider would not. That was the time to go. I looked ahead and there was a girl off the back. She would be my first target.

We passed Klucker and he yelled five seconds. Ok, here we go. I jump, say to Hannah, come with me, let's shut this thing down. I took off. About 15 seconds in I began to question my logic. This freakin' hurt. My quick, little ti princess took the corners like she was on rails. (Why did I ever think about wanting a Scott?) I was close enough to tell the girl had Dumas on the back of her shorts. Turn 10 and I was on her wheel. I yelled to her I had her wheel and needed 30 seconds to recover and would take a pull. We were under the start finish when I moved around she and the moto and jumped onto the pack. I couldn't believe what I had just done. I couldn't believe how much that hurt. Two to go and I had to stay on now. I got myself mid pack and sat in. I saw Klucker's smile as we went by. I also realized Jeffrey had left already. He didn't get to see my push.

With one to go, I knew I could hang on. We weaved through the course and turned onto the finish. The sprint went early and I tried to go with it. By 150M, I was done. I sat down and pedal to the line, getting passed by two or three girls who still had something to give. It was a 10th place finish for me, but a victory in assessment. decision-making and determination.

My "bridge face." It hurt as much as it looks like it does. "Photo credit: Mike Dawson

Taking Time to Enjoy the Ride

I'm a goal-oriented person. I decide what I want, I plan backwards and strategize and plot a course of action as to how to obtain my goal. I make sure I have short term benchmarks to stay on track and I adjust if necessary. This process typically has served me well both personally and professionally. There's very little I can't do if I set my mind to it.

Lately, I've been plagued by something though. I am typically in such a hurry to reach my goal (after all, good SMART goals are time bound) I don't enjoy my journey and reaching my short term strategies. And I think it's taking some of the fun of grabbing the silver ring.

I'll give you a cycling related example (big surprise!). As I've said before, I've been extremely focused on two goals this season, the state crit and MOBAR. I made a plan in December about what I would do to accomplish these goals. I rode my bike in nasty, cold weather. I rode in rain and wind. I spent hours on the trainer. I suffered through heat. I followed my workouts doing intervals and long rides. The state race came and I almost got it. My plan was sound, my own execution error is what's to blame. I was extremely disappointed. And trust me when I say I don't handle disappointment well.

I'm a professional developer, and I work extensively with adult learners, so I know and believe what Art Costa says about adults learning best through reflection. I love Jack Mezirow's (Columbia University) quote "A defining condition of being a human being is that we have to understand the meaning of our experience." Since April, I've been using my Monday morning runs and my blogs as my means of reflection. I critique my racing--fitness, strategy, and execution--and use the insights to help me get better, stronger, faster. Steve Austin watch out! I ran this past Monday morning and reflected. I pinpointed my strengths and weaknesses from the two races, but I still didn't feel much better about it. I didn't reach my goal. There was, is nothing I can do about it but try again next year. It wasn't until this morning that my thoughts changed.

One of the things that has been significantly different for me and my training over the past nine months is that I frequently ride with a group. My Saturday custom, when we don't have a race, has become for the women racers to head together. The Hub ride is the normal choice and we ebb and flow with our numbers. We ride, try to hold on with the boys through at least Geyer, and then settle in and spin together. We have breakfast, we ride more. It's a lot of fun. I have spent endless hours with Steph, Kate and Alice on these trips and never come away in a bad mood. I have a weeknight tradition as well--I spend an evening spinning and playing with my favorite tris. (That one is really amazing because I typically lament about multi-sporters poor handling skills!)

As I clicked in this morning, I realized that the fun of this bike season has been my journey: my hours with my friends, the epic, silly situations we create, the strange things we see and odd conversations we have. I missed my goal but I have gained so much more. You see, these three women, along with a whole lot more, have become my friends. They're my teammates on a different team. They're a big reason for my addiction to the bike. I've gotten so caught up in pursuit and achievement that I didn't truly appreciate the race I was winning all along.

I've set a new goal for myself. This one will be a truly long range achievement. My new goal is to enjoy my journey. I want to take time to notice how wonderful the short term strategies are and not miss out on the happiness they bring me.

All the Things I Missed

When I started as a school principal, a colleague of mine told me that the first she was completely overwhelmed. It was all she could do to keep her head above water and survive. Since she was in her third year as principal in that building, I asked her if it got any better. Her response was that the second year, you realize all those little things that you missed the first year.

That's a lot like bike racing to me. Last year, in most of my race, it was all I could do to survive. If I finished with the pack, it was by the sheer will, adrenaline and the grace of a higher power. This year it's as if a veil has been lifted. I see things I know I surely missed last year. I see tells of what racers are planning on doing. I notice when we work together as a pack or fight like a group of spoiled sorority girls. I hear gears being added and feel when someone is on my wheel.

I feel like a better racer this year. I know much of that has to do with increased off season training and fitness, but much of it has to do with being smart. Fitness is important, but being a smart racer is crucial. That being said, I'm close enough to last year to be humble as well. I know what it's like to barely make it through a race and I know the time is coming when I cat up and struggle all the more.

Racing is a never ending journey and not a smooth continuum. For every gain, I know pitfalls await. For each lesson learned, there are five more to come. I welcome the learning and the journey. I welcome the successes and failures along the way. Nothing in life is as simple as it seems. We might just ride around in circles, but there is an intricacy, a dance if you will, that is impromptu, just carefully choreographed. Just when you think you know it, a new step is added.

My years as a principal were filled with joy and heartache, success and failure, pride and shame. Each of those moments more important and valuable as the last. I'm sure my years of bike racing will be the same.