Number 153
Pinning on a race number again after three decades has been a breath of fresh air. Urgency was the word that kept popping into my head. Anxiety, nervousness, and exhilaration combine in a beautiful way as you roll to the edge of the start line. No, I’m not racing for the win, YET, but my effort carries no less gravity in my own heart.
YET, a word that demonstrates the aspiration that drives anyone who races. The desire to imminently improve and gain speed, to nurture the skills that make it happen. It takes focus, commitment, and unfortunately for the impatient and competitive side of ourselves, time. You don’t get fast overnight, or even in just months. You can continually gain small kernels of the elements that get you to the bottom in less time, but quantum jumps are rare and often ephemeral. Your brain’s ability to process clues from the terrain right in front of you and your body’s ability to translate that information at 30 to 40 MPH largely defines a rider's speed ceiling. Risk tolerance is another attribute that makes you faster.
What kind of racing am I talking about, Enduro mountain bike racing, of course. The format is simple: ride at a leisurely pace to the top of a mountain deliberately saving as much energy as possible, line up at a start line at the top, race down the defined, technically challenging route to the finish line back at the bottom. Do this 3-5 times in one or two days. Each trip up you ride a different route back down and are only timed on the downhill. That’s it! What makes it competitive and fun is the multitude of age and skills brackets available to race within. That is where the YET comes in.
Are mere mortals, 99% of us, going to compete for the Pro podium? Absolutely no chance! Those women and men are so fast and naturally talented that most of us are almost not even the same species. Hope lies in the 10+ categories that organizers provide within which each racer can pursue their dream of speed with others sharing similar aspirations, skills, and/or age. I discovered, thankfully, that not only did I qualify for the Masters Class upon my very late return to racing, but I gained a year due to the organizers age definition.
50, the magic number. I waded from the overpopulated and over-talented pool of 40 somethings into the equally skilled pond of far fewer 50-59 year olds. Instead of dragging around the bottom of 30 riders, I could boast to be 6th (of 8) and 7th (of 9). Naturally, when reporting my placings, I fail to mention the number of riders or the category. As a former athlete used to much greater achievement, this strategy seems politely honest while preserving my status as a competitor rather than an “also ran.”
Ego is usually ugly, haughty, and unseemly at best, but in racing it provides fuel that protein and carbohydrates cannot! Racing is about your own performance, period. That effort, however, is only measured by how you compare to the other competitors. Enduro courses may never be the same twice, so the only measure for improvement is “whom did I beat.” Did I move ahead of another rider that bested me last month? This question drives training, strategy, and motivation like nothing else.
I joked in a text to all my 6 fans (not present at the event of course); ”my age group is on the podium now, I have got them in the crosshairs.” There it is again, YET! Even as I stared into the chasm of time separating me from the podium, somewhere inside me it is only a matter of time before the Cup is mine. I’m a racer again!