A Kind Word at the Right Time

I've been making a fitness and cycling comeback beginning last winter and, at this moment, I'm just a little bit below where I left off last December when I had hernia surgery. But this is not a story of some heroic, epic effort I made in order to return to bike racing. No, those stories are found in the realm of cancer patients, injured war veterans returning from combat, and thousands who fight off the effects of other more serious diseases day in and day out their whole lives.

My story is of small note. But what happened has had huge influence on my slow, often grudging progress so far this year. I'm not a great cyclist or athlete. I do love riding bikes fast and the competition of racing---strength on strength, pure and primal, painful and purging---euphoric even. It's too easy it seems, to stay tucked safely away in our comfortable routines. Bike racing and all the intensity it pours over us, lets us step out of our safe place in this world regularly much the way one does when very young, and each day brings such rejuvenation and revelation.

In order to do what we do in this crazy, fast endurance sport, we must train obsessively. Some weeks I'm not sure I'm on or off the bike at the moment. Every week we pour over our planners to insure there is time for the right kind of ride we need at the time: group throwdowns, long steady-state tempo, sprint intervals, weight room, spin class, you name it. Many times the superfluous things which come up on the calendar get plowed over like last year's leftover crop. We read articles, blogs, books on everything from the latest technical equipment to fitness and training. Where is the next race? What do I need to do to upgrade my license? How strong will my opponents be in the next race?

But the one thing that rises above all, that seems to drive me forward without faltering, continues to nurture the cause and helps me see that I too can do it, is a kind word at the right time from those around in the midst of these same kinds of big physical efforts. Only they know what it feels like, what it takes to be there, the preparation, the dangers, and what payoff one carries home in the end.

During the past six months, as I've worked hard to get back in it, I've had friends and racing teammates encourage me, compliment my work, and even carry me through by pulling for me when the going was too much for my fitness level on that day's ride. I didn't know there was something even better to this sport. I've been surrounded with support during this time. I am a grateful man. Nothing makes me faster or stronger on a bike.