It's interesting to look back on your thoughts from months ago, when things go entirely different than you ever anticipated. Well, here's a fine example of that. I wrote this on Tuesday morning, June 26th, 2012 - the day of the Exeter Crit. When I wrote this up planning to put myself in great position for the finish as I did at Keith Berger on Sunday the 24th. It was great - my positioning could have been slightly better...going into the sprint I was in 7th, but too far back on the top three to get up there. I was already into 6th place, and was next to a younger rider - he was about 3 feet to my left so I had a real clean lane - when out of nowhere someone completely cleaned out my front wheel. He came from behind me and on my right side, where no one was when I started the sprint so I was focused forward and to the left - working to pick off a couple final guys. Had my acceleration been typical to me, I would've given a really great battle for 4th place. But that was long gone when I hit the ground at a touch over 38 miles per hour. It would have been my best ever race. Even if I ended up in 5th, it would've outweighed anything: 2nd at Washington County GC, Winning the 4/5 Witches' Cup, controlling an entire crit - placing in all 3 primes and 2nd in the finish. Would've put all those to shame. But some ignorant and foolish rider took me out...I could never find a video of the finish to figure out who did it, because I didn't see a damn thing when it happened.
So here I am, almost 5 months later, and nothing for the rest of summer went according to plan. Actually, it went quite a lot worse. I did a few smaller races, but never returned to the fitness I had back in June. I've flat out missed over 4 whole weeks training since that crash (only a few days due to injury). I probably missed 4 weeks in the previous 4 years. I'm getting back into riding consistently...not feeling perfect, but much better is for sure. After this weekend I'll be into my 2013 training and getting set to run my 24 Miler birthday run in January.
Here's my write-up that was from June 26th...which was effectively the end of my 2012 season:
Title: Self-punishment to yield self-benefit
"Everyone knows that in order to grow you need to challenge yourself and work your ass off, sometimes to a point that is seemingly beyond your capacity (but really you just learn that your capabilities are greater than you ever imagined). That's what cycling has been to me. Ever since I really started racing bike last spring and declared myself a cyclist a year ago, I have been growing so fast my only rationalization of it is to soak up every bit of it. For a while I just accepted it and loved it, as naturally as anyone would. But a couple months ago, when I was a Category 4 racer and I wanted to race Green Mountain Stage Race as a Cat 2, I realized that accepting improvement was not nearly enough anymore. I was going to have to embrace every little component of cycling in order to grow as I needed for myself: making sure my body position is stable and smooth, knowing how to race and not merely racing, knowing every last strength extremely well...and knowing my weaknesses even more, and on and on. There is a theme in cycling when it comes to getting better: knowledge is absolute power.
A teammate and good friend, Jeff, has been guiding me through this process and with excellent effectiveness. He might know my capabilities - both intellectual and physical - even more than I do. I am slowing gaining progress on learning how to race well, something that is borderline subconscious for Jeff after his years of high level racing. It is extremely hard to learn to race when your focus is jumping categories quickly. When you upgrade really quickly you don't have time to test yourself with attacks, bold moves, igniting a breakaway, and drilling the hills so hard you think you're going to explode (with the hopes that everyone is even worse off than you by the summit). You learn to race just smart enough and just strong enough to ensure those upgrade points keep coming - but by doing this you merely learn to race in a comfort zone that results in...well...a result, regardless of how good or bad it is. You get many top 10's and not so many wins, where a couple more months in the category would yield big wins. Along the way you're bound to get a W here or there but while your focus is winning, the strategy is getting yourself to the next level. In order to ensure this, you sacrifice a little bit of that top end of the potential that is needed to yield a win.
Now that I am Category 2, something I desired to complete at the end of the season, it is an entirely different sport. I was beautifully positioned on Sunday at the Keith Berger Crit for at very worst a top 10 (my head was 100% on a top 5 as we went down the back straightaway), and it fell apart in milliseconds. And I couldn't do a damn thing about it. All of Monday I was struggling to focus on anything else, I wanted to find where I failed to adapt to the situation and give myself the edge above everyone else. I couldn't find it. I was ready to give an amazing effort at a top finish, and it disappeared in front of me and I was hopeless in doing so. As much as I hate failing at a goal because I made a mistake, I learn so much from these things: I have had few situations in which I made an error that was fatal to my finish. At the Nutmeg crit, I foolishly went on a massive bridging effort and then breakaway for half of the race. I got sucked back into the pack despite trying to stay away. I recovered enough for a 4th place in the end. No longer will I get such chances, every little thing you do to waste energy will cut you down in the finish. If that wasn't enough, the guys I am racing for cash and upgrade points are amazing atheltes. They are guys who write off people like me as 'not worth the worry' and cruise seemingly effortlessly to victory."
It was interesting reading this after going back through past drafted, but not posted blogs. I think that should be the key reason many people write their own diaries (whether public or private), so you can put yourself back in time to when you wrote it.
It's nice to see a little flicker of the excitement I had within me back in such prime fitness this summer (even though I wasn't even close to where I could have ended up in 2012). That excitement about my current fitness is no longer there, but it is not a bad thing as I know I am sitting in what I would like to describe, mathematically, as a 'local minimum'. Not sure if that has ever been used in actual endurance sport terminology, but here is my definition: The time point that signifies the lowest fitness on a periodic or seasonal scale.
My excitement about my fitness may no longer be present, but it has been replaced by the raging fire that will ensure great levels of improvement.
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