I’m Here For The Hard
As I am battling some serious writers block Mark Twight is once again stepping up and giving us his insights on his journey as a cyclist.
The forecast promised cold, wet weather. I’ve been doing my homework
though and I wanted to test my clothing solutions as well as my legs
and my head. I knew what I was getting into. I relished it.
When referee blew the start whistle it was 43 degrees, with light
rain, the promise of more, and of course – being right next to the
Snake River in Idaho – wind. Our field was 15 strong when we crossed
the line. The first selection happened two miles into the race: a
couple of short, sharp pitches cut the field to eight or nine. Two
guys got away. They stayed out for about ten miles but we caught them
after turning into the wind. And it was détente. One or two dropped as
we passed the start/finish line halfway into the race. The temptation
of a warm car was strong indeed.
The relaxed state of affairs allowed me to learn more about the wind.
Head-on it’s clear where to hide, and how strong one needs to be. To
escape in a headwind, to ride away from the field, that’s the stuff of
legends. The course gave us wind from 90-degrees left and right, 3/4s,
and a 1/4 of each, but relieved us with a tailwind section too. It was
a good schooling. I watched throughout as guys tried to rewarm their
hands, complained about the cold, and hid from the wind.
Some were surprisingly adroit at hiding from it. I found myself up
front for most of the second upwind leg. Seriously. I took a long,
long pull, then slowed and signaled for someone else to work. No one
did. OK, I’m alright with that. I gave them as little as possible: I
put it in the gutter every time I was up front to keep riders from
receiving the whole benefit of my work. Everyone said “nice pull”
whenever I dropped back. Yeah, it was. Now why don’t you get up there
and work? Or do you want me to take another? I’ll do it. Because this
is what I am here for.
I’m not here to save myself. I am here to destroy myself. I am not
here for the smart if smart means shirking the work. I am here for The
Hard. It may look like I’m here to lose or give the race away. But
when I win one I will have fucking earned it.
I don’t get it. We’re amateurs. It’s a hobby. The sport is tough. That
difficulty makes the feeling of finishing well after having utterly
smashed yourself so satisfying. I know that feeling. I wonder what it
feels like to finish after having sat in, after having done the bare
minimum for 99% of the race. I wonder what it feels like to shoot to
the line on reasonably fresh legs ahead of the chasing, faltering
pack. Is it a good feeling, that win? It must be. Still, why are
people unwilling to work hard enough to smash and redefine themselves?
Back on the road and knowing that, if someone didn’t shake things up
and probably even if they did, the race would be decided in the last
500m, a few of us attacked. All digs were countered or stymied by the
terrain or the wind. The sprint happened on a sort of false flat. It
was still fast. I lost.
And I was ready for more.
There was a polite interval to stop shivering and eat before the Time
Trial. Then came an even more polite apology canceling the TT.
It was colder by then, still raining, and of course, windy but that’s
not exactly why they canceled it. A lot of racers dropped or finished
the road race with varying degrees of hypothermia. The organizer
deemed it either unsafe or unkind to have them do that twice in one
day.
If I wanted to play Tee Ball I’d have joined a league or settled for
softball. If I wanted to be comfortable, or safe for that matter I
wouldn’t be bike racing.
Hey, if you can’t take care of yourself I understand. If you made a
mistake I understand. But I came prepared. And I came tough. And I
want the chance to express the whole of my “fitness” out there in the
elements on the race course. Does my preparation give me an advantage?
Hell yeah. And it should. Does the other guy’s lack of preparation or
his mistake put him at a disadvantage? I’ve worn those shoes and the
answer is yes. In fact, he may have beat me in the short run but
canceling the second stage of today’s race stripped me of my
opportunity to have been faster in the long run.
If it’s too hard, quit. If you’re too cold, quit. If you think it’s
too dangerous, quit. But don’t punish those who want The Hard, who
aren’t cold and are willing to take the risk. I signed the waiver
absolving the organization for a reason: I am willing. When you make
it easier it’s still bike racing but it’s no longer stage racing.
It might be hard. It might be cold. I have to change clothes. I have
to rewarm myself, to eat, and drink. I have to recover after the first
race. I have to let the post-race let-down go. I have to change bikes
and positions. I have to psyche up for more battle. I must be ready
when the countdown ends.
When you take out all of that the sport becomes something different.
And not what I came here to do. At least not today.
53:11
Great time to get a new helmet. Real Cyclist will throw in some kick ass glasses with you new Giro!
7 Responses to “I’m Here For The Hard”
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What’s bike racing without the suffering?
Love your perspective, MT. Keep it coming.
Well said. I for one am glad I don’t (can’t ?) line up against you. I’m not prepared. On the other hand were I prepared, I’d be the one looking to pull away with you or die trying. Because I realize I’m not there nor will I ever be there, I’m the guy toting the Nikons on the back of the Moto, or out in some ditch somewhere so that someone will know you came for the hard.
As for “I wonder what it feels like to finish after having sat in, after having done the bare minimum for 99% of the race. I wonder what it feels like to shoot to the line on reasonably fresh legs ahead of the chasing, faltering pack. Is it a good feeling, that win? It must be.”
If you’re truly contesting a bunch sprint, whatever you saved for 99% of the race, you promptly spend in 10 seconds trying to stay ahead. It’s a different kind of hard, but it’s the only situation on a bike when I’ve actually vomited afterward, for whatever that’s worth.
I have to side with mark. If you’re truly contesting in a bunch sprint it is equally hard to earn the victory, the time of suffering might be a lot shorter than the one you suffer in a breakaway but it’s not less worth or demanding. And a fair earned win feels always good. But that being said a bunch sprint is something like 30 riders and up, for me usually 100-200 riders in the field but not eight or nine riders.
Only way to force some reaction or pena2lise them, pull out as soon as you reach the front, and when everybody is looking around who is going to lead now attack and show some f*cking big ring riding and let them eat your dust.
I’m here for the win
My understanding of a race is that the objective is to cross the finish line in front of as many other competitors as you can (without cheating). Cycling is an interesting race as there are two major forces at play – air resistance and, when climbing hills, gravity. As you can’t do much about gravity, I would have thought that any sensible cycling race strategy would involve minimizing the amount of unnecessary time you spend working at the front. There are many ways to make the race harder if that is your forte – save money and race on a low quality bicycle, tow a bicycle trailer loaded with a sack of spuds, ride at the front for as long as you can for no strategic purpose.
While I can understand that the workers may resent the shirkers, I don’t think there is anything at all wrong with shirking until that point in the race where working will increase you chance of winning. I would actually consider any other approach to be contrary to the aim of racing which, to remind everyone, is to cross the finish line in front of as many other competitors as you can (without cheating).
[...] I’m not here to save myself. I am here to destroy myself. I am not here for the smart if smart means shirking the work. I am here for The Hard. It may look like I’m here to lose or give the race away. But when I win one I will have fucking earned it. –Mark Twight, I’m Here for the Hard [...]
[...] push our bodies to the brink of failure and minds to the brink of breakdown. Why we are, ‘here for the hard‘. It doesn’t matter if I’m not climbing the hardest or scariest lines in the [...]