Friday Ramblings: What Is Mine

I spend a lot of time thinking about life and racing, but never at the same time. I enjoy racing, because when I am in a race I instinctively think only about racing itself. I never think about the burdensome tidbits of life.

At Murad last weekend, with half a lap to go, I threw my legs and lungs into a fury with a futile attempt to catch a last-lap breakaway. Was I thinking about a certification exam I have for work in two weeks? About a mother's day brunch reservation? About the funeral I attended last week, or the one I had to attend this week? About upcoming races?

Even though these thoughts scroll doubt and stress through my brain with every second that passes, they did not cross my mind once while I had a number pinned to my jersey. My only thoughts were on keeping a high cadence, about sucking wind into my lungs, and how bad of an idea it was to (a) attack the field so late with such a big gap to the break and (b) look at my heart rate monitor. (Seeing 192 beats per minute is rarely good news, and being lonely in no-man’s land is not much fun either.)

There are underlying themes that intersect these thoughts of a racer with the common thoughts of any normal guy that is totally stressed out: self-doubt, confusion, and hope. On- or off-the-bike, the introspective self-doubt challenges you, while the breadcrumbs of hope keep you from thinking that an effort is for naught.

Never in the middle of even a boring bike race (does one exist?) or a solo training ride, whether up a mountain or on MacArthur Boulevard, have I lost that tunnel vision. Like a meditation, with total emptiness it provides an acute clarity for what is among the moment, here and now, what is mine. I only wish that, like many other traits of my personality, that focus was permanent. I wish that I could focus energy as well to other pursuits as I do and always have for athletic competition.

(Cue the song of the blog...)

Sharp and nimble, the wind unfolds,
Got me to my feet again,
Past the mountain, I hear a cry,
Coming from the pinnacle,
In the distance, a city shines,
Oh, what a welcoming...
~ O.A.R. "What is Mine"

Maybe it is an instinct of survival to commandeer the mind and body to a single pursuit during physical exertion. Yet sometimes I would happily take an ounce of focus from riding to better my focus in studies or work or acts as simple as reading and conversing. I can only imagine to be focused so sharp and nimble to a single effort off the bike as I am on the bike. I sometimes hope that maybe, if I continue riding, this habit of focus will transcend athleticism as if it were as an act of studying.

Recent events in my life - inside and outside of bike racing - have me thinking more about this focus, and how it relates to respect, reputation, and legacy. Perhaps these thoughts have made me more self-critical (but unfortunately no less loquacious).

Undoubtedly, I would rather be a good person than a good bike racer, because much of being a good competitor is being a good sportsman - an inkling I think we all forget frequently. If being a bike racer is a lifestyle and not a hobby, than my character while assuming the role should be as prominent. The person I am when I step into my office on Monday, ride at Hains Point on Thursday, or pin on a number at a bike race on Saturday, it is still the same guy.

Especially since two years ago, the sport of cycling (and specifically bike racing) has taken over much of my life and made more focused as a person than I was before. Both life and sport require the tolerance to judge your own actions critically, to show appropriate deprecation toward them, and redeem them with sincerity. Without cycling or at least some sport, I feel I would lose many of the habits I have learned about growth, balance, patience, and focus.

Sure, all of this riding is just to be able to cross a duct-tape finish line in a bike race. If at the same time it teaches me a lesson or two about life, though, I will happily do my homework.