Put Me Out of My Misery

That Cat 3 noose around my neck seems to be getting tighter and tighter. I actually started to think that I needed to make some symbolic change, so I ditched the PowerTap for this race and lined up with no computer, heart rate monitor, or any other monitoring device. My training has been according to plan along the Peak phase, so I decided that I needed to psych up the mind by returning to a time when I wasn’t so driven by numbers and data. Somehow that simple, yet symbolic change was supposed to deliver different results during the downtown Evanston crit. So, there I am rolling up to the start line of the Evanston with my Mavic Ksyrium SL’s sans computer.

The encouraging prelude to this race was that I felt good during the warm-up and believed that this was the race that was going to mark the turning point in my season. Ironically, I saw a poster at the LA Fitness that read something like “Run Your Self-Doubt Into The Ground.” I didn’t think much about the poster until I realized that I had rolled a full block thinking about that message. Self-doubt is a vicious thing in the world of competitive cycling because at some point in the race, the hammer drops and the flood gates of Lake Lactic Acid release their fury on every muscle strand in your body. If your hope of a solid result is depending on the SS Self-Doubt, then you better believe that your chances are going to sink like the Titanic.

Well, cue that cheesy soundtrack to the movie Titanic ‘cause I did not feel comfortable at all once the racing got underway. I constantly felt as if I was hammering to keep from being unhitched from the pack. And there I go off the back yet again about 10 laps into the race. The power accelerations out of the BK stacker corner continued through half of the final straightaway and I was surprised by how much the legs were getting more and more drained each time I had to accelerate out of that turn. I definitely didn’t feel like the King of the World on that race.

Amazing how I completely did not expect to unravel like I did during this race, especially after pulling myself out of an abysmal Schlitz Crit yesterday. I am baffled on how the legs have completely disappeared at this point in the season. There are various things that have likely contributed to that since I have a lot of “stuff” going on at work and on the family front. You would think that the Cycling Gods would have some amount of pity on me, but alas it’s not to be.

I’m started to weigh my options for the rest of the season. Racing has been one hell of a downer since Winfield, so I’m leaning on setting aside the racing game if I don’t collect some sort of result by Downers Grove. I’m not talking about a solo ride off the front with some killer post up as I cross the line. I’m just looking for some validation that I can compete with this crew. Only time will tell…

I did enjoy rolling around the town where I lived for 2 years during grad school. A brat at Buffalo Joe’s proved to be a worthy distraction from the disappointing result at Evanston. I suppose the consolation prize was that I finished the race and didn’t get caught up in any of the pile-ups around the infamous BK Stacker. Whoop-de-do…