Race Pain

“The real race is not on the hot, paved roads, the torturous off-road course or the smooth-surfaced velodrome. It is in the elctrochemical pathways of your mind.” -Alexi Grewel, U.S. Pro Road Racer from the 80’s

“It doesn’t get any easier, you just get faster.” -Greg Lemond

Everyday I spend here is dedicated to those few key moments of truth in races when, in order to do my job well, the competition converts itself into a battle between my mind and my body. Every minute of training, every hour spent cleaning and maintaining my bike, every disciplined day that I pass hungary to drop weight, all mean nothing if I can’t force myslef into all sorts of physical pain while racing. The strange irony is that I cannot fulfill the potential which all the elements of my training afford me without passing the most painful parts of races sincerely saying to myself, “I hate this, I really hate this.” All of my love for the sport is focused on those rare moments of hate. But subjecting yourself to this suffering is also deeply rewarding. Once at this point, you are completely humbled, honest and without inhibitions. What at all other times appeals to you as the glamorous passion of the sport becomes a completely abstract idea, and you continue on inspired by some other force. I think it’s the simple unrefined and primitive desire to be physically superior to the rest. The pursuit of that intoxicating pleasure that results from pulling away from a group on a climb or in a sprint. The rather sickening truth that slowly reveals itself to you in every race is that utlimately, what limits a rider in a race is his mind. Short of physical exhaustion, a rider never drops out the back of a peloton because he is incapable physically. Short of being threatened with death or masking the pain with drugs, it’s highly unlikely that a person can arrive at their actual maximum physical exertion. After the race, that dropped rider will always be left with varying degrees of dissapointment, based on how much suffering he has been able to endure. “If only I had pushed a little harder...” The butterflies before every competition come because you know that racing well is completely dependant on being able hurt yourslef well.

Greg Lemond’s observation of climbing up through the ranks in cycling competition for me has a new ring of truth to it. I’m now convinced that a higher level of fitness means, in large part, having adapted your body to endure a more intense and extended period of suffering. Whereas before I could maintain a heart rate of 178 beats per minute for two minutes, now I may be able to do so for ten minutes. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt just as much. The pain changes from a very definable burning sensation in the lungs and legs to a more abstract feeling of pain. I’ve never known how to put it into words. But the other day I was enlightened. Jackson, my roomate from Venezuela had just left a vicious little scent in the bathroom. I, rather unfortunately, had an untimely necessity to frequent the same bathroom following Jackson’s movement. I took a deep breath, and held a chestfull of air for the minute or so it took me to pee, saving myself from smelling a rather rotten version of what Jackson had had for dinner the night before. As my oxygen started to run out, I realized that this was quite a similar sensation to what I feel in the races. Try it. Right now. As you approach 75-90 seconds, you start to feel a sort of panic in every cell of your body, crying out for more oxygen. Try to hold it for as long as you can. When you finally succumb to oxygen debt and suck in a relieving breath of air, realize that you’ve done so not out of physical necesity but because your mind wasn’t strong enough to endure the pain until you passed out. As far as I can tell, learning to cope with this mental aspect of cycling is essentially what makes you a better racer, little by little. Every race you find ways to suffer more.

Yesterday I had an excellent race. The whole day I was attacking and several times I was able to get myself into break-aways. Ascending the two main climbs of the day I was able to not only stay with the lead group, but chase down racers who went off the front. After 78 miles I finished the race 35th out of 98 who started, coming in as the fifth rider on my team of 12. I’m definately feeling much stronger and without having reached my training peak. I’m so excited about how I’m progressing- I just hope my knee holds up until August. One more hard week of training and then two more races next weekend. After that I have a rest week and then a three week peak period for racing. Until soon...