As I sat on a wooden bench in the shade after the Chantilly Crit yesterday, bag of ice on my back, drenched in sweat and making a very conscious effort to keep my pre-race lunch down, I took a second to reflect on the events that brought me to this exact moment. It wasn't just the frustrating race with what felt like a dozen attempts to get away, it wasn't the extreme heat (over 110 on the tarmac before the start), it wasn't the chase to bridge a 3-girl breakaway or the final 3 lap smackdown that peaked my heart rate at 206bpm (!). The event that brought me here, girls and boys, was cycling - racing to be precise.
My entire vocabulary has changed in the 8 years since I first pinned on a number. Breaks, drafting, vO2, threshold, skinsuits, sponsorships and ominums - none of these terms held meaning back when I was a young whippersnapper - only falling short of official "fred" status because I managed to take off the visor that came with my styrofoam helmet and I didn't know yet what a camelback was. Bridging must've been a made up verb about building one. Recovery was what you did after you found yourself dancing on the bar the night before. The concept of going out in the dead of winter with hand warmers, toe warmers, fleece tights and a balaclava was nowhere in my universe.
These days, I have to tread carefully through daily conversations with laymen - a story about how I had to change in the parking lot again (do you know how hard it is to shimmy into a skinsuit when you're already sweating?!?!) doesn't go over well and the declaration that I need to DRINK before my race doesn't hold the same connotation with the general public.
As for yesterday, that was the day I learned to appreciate the IceSock- it kept me cool for at least a handful of the opening laps, dripping cool water from melting ice down my back. I also re-learned the value of a cold, wet towel after a hot race. A few of us, trying to keep cool under a strategically placed tent provided by the Fuentii, laughed about how we've learned to prep for these events - at least two coolers, more chairs than you think you need, extra ice, extra jugs of water, sunscreen, sunglasses and, if you are looking for real style, a big, floppy hat. Yesterday was definitely a sundress day - not just because we look cute in them but because they make it easier to change in parking lots. Oh, and I keep saying "we" ... even when you're not wearing the same kit, cycling is usually a social sport. We root for each other when we're not out-sprinting or out-climbing each other. Most of us have a kind word or two for solid competitors - nice pull, good run, awesome race for you and the biggest compliment anyone can give me (personally) - I love racing with you! We stand out in fields to give a hand up to our significant others, our teammates and sometimes their teammates (bring your own bottle, I can feed you but I'm not your supplier!). If we're lucky, we become good friends with other cyclists that we may never have met if not for the sport.
All the training, all the equipment (rollers - who knew they weren't just for long hair?), all the time, money, heart and effort we put into this sport - it's what brings us to 100+ degree race days where we share stories while we shimmy into lycra and wait for the whistle to blow so that we can throw it all down for ourselves, our friends, our teammates, our significant others and anyone else willing to sit on the sidelines and cheer for a good show. After the madness of the final lap, we find our exit from the course and sometimes only make it to the first friendly face with a bottle of water or some ice or simply a kind word. It's all a blur at that point - it's over but the effort cost everything we had to give. That is the moment where I found myself on Sunday. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
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