Race Your Bike
Another submission from Mark Twight. Race Your Bike, like a lot of things he says there is a deeper meaning behind such a simple statement.
I ran into Sam Krieg on my way to the start line for the University of
Utah Omnium road race. He was just coming off the course and soaring
from the effort and the juice of the win. He’s a mentor too and told
me, “all I have to say is be patient. Race your bike.” It took a
second but the words sank in: racing is different than being in a
race. The race turned out all right with Bo Pitkin taking the win in
an elegant breakaway, me in 5th and Kracht in 6th. The day afterward I
flogged myself with questions, trying to turn the answers into lessons
I could use in the future.
1) If you think you can’t you are right. Always. In our gym and
seminars we discuss the idea of self-imposed limitation, and preach
the idea to others. But knowing something and saying it is not the
same as practicing it. To prevent thinking and fulfilling those
thoughts that prevent us from expressing true potential requires
persistent vigilance. If I think I can only go at a particular
intensity for two minutes I have already decided that three minutes at
that pace is impossible. But is it?
2) Constant self-interrogation and honest answers are essential. When
undertaking any difficult task we must ask ourselves, “Am I going
hard? Am I doing the maximum possible within this context? Could I
push a bit more?” It is easy to unconsciously ease off the gas, and to
believe the threshold effort of one minute ago is the same as what is
happening right now. So ask yourself the question. Be ruthless and
critical in reply. Don’t dress up the answer in excuses or
half-truths.
3) Training is not racing. No matter how hard one trains it is
impossible to go as deep as one will go on the day, racing or
fighting, with the chips on the table. And those who only train but
never compete or test themselves happily convince themselves that what
they are doing is hard, or hard enough. When I am training it is easy
to sit up after an interval has been hard for a while. It’s easy to
say, “that’s good enough.” On the road, reacting to others, I can’t
sit up until they decide to do so. And perhaps in so doing I break
through my own self-imposed limitations.
4) Racing is racing. In a test of pure fitness pacing strategies
affect the outcome but few other tactics carry much weight. On the
road, in a group, understanding which attacks to chase and which to
let go might be the difference between being there to contest the
finishing sprint or blowing up a few miles before the line. Knowing
when to sit in and recover, which is directly tied to self-knowledge,
and doing so without shirking the responsibility to do one’s work on
the front, is another key to remaining viable until the finish.
Patience is often rewarded. Experience matters. Stubbornness is for
mules.
5) The tank is deeper than conscious thought allows. There is always
something left to burn if the fire of one’s will is hot enough. Josh
went on a break with one other guy. After he cracked and blew up Josh
continued on his own, eventually building a lead of over five minutes
on the peloton. At one point Josh blew past a friend whose category
was on the course at the same time who later said, “when I saw Josh
frothing at the mouth with the pedal buried I knew he is doing damage
to whoever was chasing.” A long time ago I met someone with a similar
disposition, a brilliant climber with a highly evolved pain threshold,
for whom standard definitions of effort fell short. He was willing to
hurt himself – perhaps permanently – to get what he wanted from the
mountains. One day when we were discussing caloric needs he told me
that there is always something left to burn, “even if it’s brain
matter.” Back then, his outlook reduced my own ideas about pain and
suffering to rubble. These days some things I see on the bike have a
similar effect.
MFT
2 Responses to “Race Your Bike”
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I can’t get enough of this attitude. My sport is rugby and when your exhausted and sometimes bones broken, you hear the quiet little voice in your head. The voice is always trying to make a deal with you. Now I’ve followed the words of Mark Twight for a few years and since have constantly tested my will. The results of telling that voice, “f**k off! I’m not done yet” has won me much confidence in who I am. I’m damn glad your out there, Mark.
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