Conquering Your Fears: Logic Trumps Fear

These past few weeks I have been learning many lessons in the stormy weather that has been my cycling. Actually, I'm getting a lot of lessons TAUGHT TO ME. Read: Force-fed. I'm fine with this.

This past Sunday was no exception. Thanks to my friend Mark, I found myself on the same 35-40 mile ride that I went on last week. The one that my good friend crashed and wrecked on. Needless to say, I was quite nervous before the start. Adding to my nerves was the sudden downpour that began just as we were about to throw our wheels down. Enter scared voice in the back of my head: "Mercedes, don't do this, it's too cold, you don't have the right gear, you said you were never doing this loop again, you'll fall, you'll wreck, especially in this weather..." The scared voice was going on and on. Seemed like it wouldn't stop! And my stomach was feeling gooshy like it does when I have a very important race ahead of me. This wasn't a race. This was a ride. A training ride. A planned 35 mile ride and then 30 minute run. A fabulous brick workout. And I was standing there in the rain waffling on if I was going to back out of it or not. My good friend Joe steps in, interrupts the fearful voice in my head and speaks reason, of all great things in this world.

Joe said, plain and simple: "Mercedes, listen, what if it rains at the Lonestar Quarter Iron? What will you do then? What if it rains in another tri, are you going to back out then?"

The fearful voice quieted and seemed to ruminate a bit. Then I started visualizing wet tires slipping out from under me on a curve and me spilling onto pavement in a crumpled, bloody mess. I shook my head, doubtful. The stomach crunched up again.

Then, I reluctantly admitted my fear to Joe. "Joe," I said, "I'm scared to do that loop again. I'm scared to face the place where [our friend] fell."

And then Joe said the most intelligent, logical thing ever: "It's perfectly normal to be scared after seeing a crash, Mercedes. You can do it, you need to prove it to yourself that you can do it. Today is the day."

The fearful voice was completely silenced. My stomach started to calm down. I knew Joe was right.

And we started to ride.

The rain was bad, and it got worse. It got colder. My fingers, unprotected by full fingered gloves, were bright red the first half of the ride. Every part of my body was wet, but I didn't mind the wet as much as the cold. The cold was pretty brutal.

We get to the Decker loop and I just hunker down and focus. I work the hills, because when I do, I get warmed up and it actually starts to feel good.

As we're approaching the spot my friend fell, everything around me goes silent again. I seem to be spinning in slow motion. I'm all by myself, I've pulled ahead of the pack I was riding with. I concentrate on the horizon as I'm replaying the spill in my head. Tears try desperately to creep out of my eyes as my head replays the trauma that happened at the top of the hill in front of me the previous weekend. I keep spinning and I focus on avoiding the cracks on the ground and I glide right past the spot that I never thought I could ride on again.

A wave of relief combs over me like a warm blanket. The sun starts to come out in those heaven sent rays begin to warm me up for the first time in 20 miles. I start to smile and speed up. I finally start to feel good.

We finish, and I look at Joe expectantly, knowing he probably doesn't want to do the 30 minute run we had planned after the ride.

I talk him into it: "Joe, I know you don't want to do this run, but trust me, this brick will be good for you and your legs will thank me for it on race day"

Joe contemplates for a little while, eying his trunk where I know his running shoes are stashed. He doesn't respond.

"Ok, I'll meet you over by my car," I say, assuming he just consented to go run.

I'm lacing up my running shoes as Joe runs up to my car. I smile.

And we started to run.

When we got back to Jack and Adam's there were 2 breakfast tacos left. We promptly devoured them as if they had just been waiting there for us.

Joe turned to me and said "I provided the encouragement for the ride and you provided it for the run."

"I know," I said, smiling, "Thanks, man."

I meant it. Logic over fear FOREVER!!!

Current book I'm reading: The Story of A Marriage

Flats are FUEL *or* Three, no wait FOUR Strikes and You're OUT!

才裝上去氣嘴就破了
Originally uploaded by neqadk.

This past weekend was not a cycling success. It was a failure in many ways and I'm having a hard time getting my head around what exactly happened.

A close friend crashed 20+ miles in out on Decker Lane on Sunday. Thankfully her helmet protected her head and her left hip took the brunt of the fall. She was in and then out of the hospital that afternoon only suffering an ankle sprain, serious road rash and contusions. Not to mention her poor, beat up bike and a dented helmet that needs replacing. Please keep her in your thoughts as she recovers. After the ambulance and fire fighters checked her out, they carted her off to St David's. I, however, still had to ride 20 miles back. And they were a hard 20 miles full of worry and trauma. The moment I got back from my ride, it was off to St. David's to support and be there for my friend. Come to think of it, though, the 20 miles back were not hard physically, though that was the longest distance I've cycled yet, it was more difficult mentally and emotionally.

So now let's talk about why I was riding Sunday at all. As you may know, I was slated and all signed up to ride Pedal Through the Pines 50 miler the day before, Saturday. That's another lot of strikes and failures. Suffice to say that I learned a lot but I'm still incredibly frustrated with the whole experience. Saturday started with me waking up, checking out my bike, and realizing the my front tire was completely flat. "BOO-HISS!" I thought, "Oh, should be quick fix, I'll change it when I get to Bastrop" I thought, and a packed my bike up and drove out to the start of the ride. I was so excited, 50 miles was the magic distance, a half century ride. I really wanted to do it. My buddies had agreed to do it with me. I changed the tire with the help of the same close friend who crashed on Sunday. Easy-peasy, we thought. Then, as we were pumping it up, the tire popped with a loud BANG and it went flat again. Slightly annoyed, I ran off to borrowed a spare tube from a kind soul from Austin Fit, my running group. I looked at my watch, it was only 8:30 AM at that point, plenty of time to change the blow out. My buddy and I worked faster on the second flat. We changed the tire again, together. It went great. All said and done, I got on my gear with 10 minutes to spare until the start of the ride.

I hopped on my awesome ride, happy, excited that we had made it through those difficulties and were still going to be able to ride. As soon as those positive emotions flowed through me, I then hit something, and my back tire blew out. I stopped to look back at it in horror and shock, all without clipping out. I subsequently fell over in exasperation and frustration. Another flat! The THIRD one of the day! 10 minutes before the start of the ride! I started thinking 'Three strikes and you're out' but no, we had to try. I didn't want to give up on the 50 miles ahead of me before even starting. So we somehow scrounged around and decided to use my friend's last spare tube. We changed the tire like pros, only slightly exasperated. As we were pumping it up, my friend pulled off the pump and the stem of the tube popped off. The tire instantly deflated, and so did our hopes of riding on Saturday. We all drove home. I took my little Fizgig over to Jack and Adam's to have them take a look at it. I decided I'd had enough of flats for the day, and I had a professional fix the back tube. I tried to psyche myself up for another 40 mile ride the next day, but my feelings were, quite literally, deflated.

As I was loading up my bike later that evening for the ride the next day, I stopped dead in my tracks in horror. The back tire, that the professional and J & A had JUST FIXED, was FLAT AGAIN. I was livid. I took it immediately to the bike shop, where I knew a few friends were having a triathlon training party. I walked up to the front of the shop, the lights were on. The door was locked. Pitifully, I stood there, staring at my flat back tire. I was about to cry when Desiree Ficker and Jack Murry walk up to the door. Jack said that I just looked too pitiful standing there, he just HAD to re-open the shop for me. He fixed the tire lickety split and I haven't had problems since. I was overjoyed to get the chance to talk with Desiree and that Jack re-opened the shop for me. The day had started to get better. I went outside, saw some friends and drank a very necessary beer to celebrate the fact that I was finally flat free. I decided later with the help of my Ironwoman friend, Moe that these flats can be fuel to get back out there and tear it up (with a lot of extra tubes)! So I've found a positive spin on all of this, I think.

Three flats...no wait, FOUR flats...and you're out. Let's just hope my friend is better soon so we can get out there riding again and really using these flats and these falls as fuel for more great riding. I'll have a great ride soon, I just know it. My injured friend and more friends will be out there soon for the Rosedale Ride on 03/28. We'll be sure to be carrying lots of extra tubes anywhere we can stick them! And awesome, protective helmets, too.

Be careful out there, everyone.