New Beginnings...

In a number of ways this post is about fresh starts which is ironic because it begins with a DNF. I rolled out for the Sydney 12hr this past weekend, hoping to kick start my motivation for the WEMBO World 24hr Championships later in the year and to just get a solid block of riding in my legs. Even at the 1/4 distance mark I could tell that my head wasn't in the right space. The track wasn't particularly brutal, although quite hard going through some of the sloppier sections, and the body was holding up suspiciously well considering the lack of recent distance training. In truth, the simple fact of the matter was that I was no longer enjoying the ride and couldn't even force a smile onto my face; the culmination of the last couple of year's torment. For someone who has been defined by the bike for the last 7 years that has been quite a difficult thing to admit actually, to no longer be "that guy". That guy who gets up at 4am and does 100km rides to work, that guy who gives up his weekends to ride for 24hrs straight, that guy who gets told he looks gaunt but still isn't happy with how much weight he's carrying.

Racing the Duo Classic in early 2013

For a number of years I've been toiling away at the endurance game with mixed success. The infatuation with endurance racing started with the SCOTT back in '07 and since then has taken in various 24hrs, 12hrs, 8hrs, 6hrs, 4hrs, 3hrs, marathons, the crocodile trophy and a whole bunch of other stuff that doesn't fit in any of those pigeon holes. Initially, simply getting to the finish was reward enough and the goal of going that one step better in the next race made all of the effort worthwhile. After a while it becomes all encompassing and every aspect of my life became devoted to that single goal of logging the most km's I could in a 24hr block. Even now I find that I never say that I am simply heading out for a ride because every pedal stroke is for "training". Lance Armstrong was quoted as saying that endurance athletes are usually running away from something inside of themselves. I'm not sure that I was ever running away from something but I definitely did enjoy the time to think, mostly about my dad who never got the chance to see me race. In fact there are a whole bunch of things that he would never see; he would never see me turn 18, he'd never see me get my degree and become an Officer in the RAAF, he'd never see me marry my beautiful wife and, most regrettably, he'd never get to meet his two grandchildren. In a lot of ways I think I have always been riding for other people so maybe I was running away from the fear of letting them down...idiot!

If it is true that endurance athletes are running away from something then I don't want to know how big Jason English's demon's are.

Happy days.

An idiot because the truth is that life is so much harder than any motivational poster makes it out to be. Life is ultimately about compromise and if you want to excel in any one particularly arena you will sacrifice others. Pre-race banter with mates inevitably involved questions such as "how much training have you been doing lately" to which I always found I  responded with "not as much as I would like." It occurs to me though that the only one who controls how much time I train is me so why was I not letting myself train as much as I thought I wanted? Clear as mud? More simply, if I really wanted to train more I would find a way to get my ass out on the bike so obviously there was something preventing me from doing it. Recently, I've been trying to balance the arena's in which I compete, unsuccessfully. Pulling out of the 12hr should have been a psychological punch in the stomach but it was actually quite liberating because it was the acceptance that I no longer have to be that guy. I can still ride my bike, I can still be successful, I can still enjoy myself, I can still represent for my awesome sponsors and supporters and I can do it all while still enjoying other aspects of my life as well. Endurance racing, and 24hrs racing in particular, has given me innumerable moments of sheer joy and some of incredible pain. 

Whats left after you've been immortalised in a 40ft banner?

Where to from now then? I'm going to pull right back from the endurance racing and get back to a place where I enjoy riding my bike again. I'd love to buy a trail bike and learn how to shred properly. I'd love to buy a CX bike, hang the foot out and do some wicked skids on the Mt Ainslie fireroads that last for two weeks. I'd love to buy a TT bike, start running again and have a crack at some triathlons. These N+1s are never going to get past the minister of finance of course but at least I feel that I could get excited by cycling again which is the whole point isn't it?

Surely what it's all about at the end of the day?