With much of our life packed in boxes and no home to call our own one can imagine I have spent most of the past weeks pondering, questioning, and at times doubting just what am I doing. So with a hot cup of coffee I set about my day just as I had the past and then I got a text that shook me to my core.

The text informed me of the passing of my teammate and friend Matt Bradley. I had come to know Matt 1.5 years ago when he reached out to me as he explored the possibility of amputating his leg due to rare form of cancer. It was clear in our early communications that Matt was a driven and passionate man that was not about to let cancer or the loss of his leg slow him down. His attitude resonated with me and I was excited to embark on the journey of getting him back on his bike and racing once again. At the time I would have never imagined that 10 months later I would be lining up at the World Championships with Matt as teammate.

Matt left center following WC Road Race Denmark

Over the past year and a half, I had gotten to know Matt on many levels.  I was struck at just how intentionally he lived his life be it in his role as an educator, advocate for the oppressed or on the bike: Matt lived life completely. Rarely did I hear Matt speak of the future in terms of worry, unknowns or doubt. Rather he spoke of future goal and visions in the terms of what he was doing now in the present in order to achieve the end objective.

Naturally my heart sank at the news of his passing first on a purely emotional level as I imagined not enjoying another shared moment together. But soon my feelings evolved to something much deeper and more sobering as I read the messages left by so many that he has touched during his life on his Facebook page. From the words shared by Matt’s friends I began to process my own state of life.

Yet again, I am painfully reminded by just how short life can be and more importantly how soon it can all come to end on this earth. Most striking though for me was the time to pause and reflect on my own life and more specifically the now I am living in. For weeks I have been living much of my hours in the future which home, where, when, how and on and on but suddenly I was present.

I am reminded of just how blessed I am to have a beautiful wife and two healthy and lively children. I am living a dream of racing my bike all over the world. Through my life story I am helping others to find their own voice and begin living their own dreams.  Despite the unknowns, the doubts, the challenges, I am living.  But to be most effective, I need to be present.

Matt’s passing has reminded me to be intentional now, not tomorrow. Today, I awake to a hot cup of coffee in hand, present. Today I am prepared to train to the best of my ability, love as a husband, parent, and friend is called to, and committed to positively impacting others. I am confident LIVING today will answer tomorrow’s unknowns, erasing any doubt in the journey we are on.

Rest in Peace Matt; you were a fine example of what it means to be living.

Thus it has been difficult to really unpack all my thoughts/emotions from Worlds. So here is my knee-jerk take on things.

For the first time I dedicated myself to a single event on the track: the individual pursuit. I believe this event aligns well with the direction my cycling has been developing over the past few years, but not training with the sprinters during track workouts took some adjustment. Adapt I did, and I quickly found myself very encouraged with my progress throughout the training in LA. By the time Worlds rolled around I was confident in my ability to make the finals for a medal in the event. Rested and excited for race day I was looking to have one of my best days on the track, a day when everything came together. Unfortunately, by the time the clock stopped my time told a different story. For reasons I am still unaware of, my legs did not show up on race day and I clocked a time well off my training times netting me a 6^th place. My disappointment was very evident yet I still struggle to find fault with my game plan or the effort that I put into the pedal. I finished the pursuit fully drained but none the less having gone much slower than anticipated. My only explanation is that phenomenon of luck or fortune that often makes the difference between an average performance and a great one.

My second competition was the Kilometer, an event I had invested little if any specific training time to in months. Despite this lack of attention I was able to capitalize on my natural sprint to carry me to a personal best for the LA Velodrome. It should be noted that the LA track and I have a bit of a love/hate relationship. I really enjoy racing and training on the LA track as it is our finest velodrome venue in the states. However, in competition it has all too often gotten the best of me, sapping me of my strength and sending me home dragging my tail.

My final event at Worlds was on face-value, the least important and the biggest unknown. For the first time in Paralympic history we hosted a mass start event, the Scratch race. Not only would this be the first mass start race on the track for Paralympic athletes in World competition it marked my first mass start on a track ever. To say I was nervous would be a bit of an understatement. The race would entail 22 riders on the line for a 40 lap first-to-cross-the line wins race. For the first half of the race I could focus on little else than my front wheel and immediate surroundings. On several occasions I avoided mass carnage thanks to a solid shoulder or a quick flick of the front wheel. But as my confidence grew I was able to trust my bike handling skills and began racing with a broader awareness of what was going on both in front and behind me in the race. With half the race to go, I had a teammate in a break up ahead.  This placed me in the role of defending my teammate’s position by attempting to foil any attempts to bridge the gap. Unlike the days earlier my legs were feeling alive with plenty of pop. I played my roll of defense as best I could successfully preventing other riders from bridging the gap. I also won the bunch sprint at the end for 9^th.

 Despite my reservations for the scratch race in the beginning this event was my personal highlight of Worlds and I am eagerly anticipating next year’s Worlds when it will become an official World Championship event.

So at this point what are my take homes? Evaluating my overall fitness I am pleased with my conditioning at this point in the season and despite my finishes at Worlds I know that I have the strength necessary to finish on the podium with the Worlds best. Over the next few weeks training data will be crunched and digested as my coach and I draft a training plan that will deliver me on the podium in 190 days in London.

Now this concept is easy to define on paper.  However when it comes to real life application it becomes more complex. While I believe we all can appreciate the need to prioritize challenges, I also contend that the majority of us throw that thinking to the wind on the start line. The reality is that while my season has long been planned out with A, B and C races, when I take the start line at each race, every moment becomes a priority. Thus, at the conclusion of each event I find myself in deep reflection on my result and overall performance. Unfortunately, many times in the year this may find me frustrated and disappointed. On the surface my disappointment typically lies solely in the ultimate placing. As one of the top bike racers in the world, I have an expectation that in each race my results reflect that. However the truth is, I can not possibly maintain top form indefinitely…my body needs a break from time to time and in those moments the immediate consequence will often be a slide in placing.

Such was the case for much of my racing this past week at the Parapan Games in Guadalajara, Mexico. In the lead up to the Parapan Games, I had been instructed by my coach to take a break from the day to day drills and the regimented training program. After 9 months of racing riddled with priority races, my body and mind were approaching burn out. This became more apparent when I was blind sided by a common cold that manifested itself into a raging beast.  It left me fighting  complete exhaustion and a temperature of 104+ for 5 days the week before the Parapan Games.

Flying to Mexico I was calm and relaxed, focusing on clean racing execution and not on overall time/placing.  As the clock counted down from 5 in the time trail, such thoughts were instantly replaced with a win. Thirty minutes later the facts hinted towards a well-executed ride that just so happened to be slow. My result was consistent with the preparation and where I was in my training season yet I was all but devastated. My thoughts were overwhelmed with thoughts of failure. I do not race my bike to finish mid pack; I race to win.

In the following days I would carry this burden of supposed failure into the Kilometer TT on the track. And while I road a respectable time, it was far from my best and consequently only added to my frustration. With two more events yet to contest, I needed to change things and fast.

As an athlete we often focus only on the physical things we can do to become strong; completely overlooking the significance our mind can play in performance. The truth is, when anything becomes questionably difficult we will at some point have to fight off the demon of doubt that tells our aching legs that there is still more in the tank. As I analyzed my performances from the first two races, I realized that regardless of my physical fitness and overall placing, my only real disappointment and failure was not a lack of fitness/speed but rather my inability to appreciate any effort that was done to the best of my ability.

Armed with this brighter outlook I readied myself in the start gate of the Individual Pursuit, committed to riding a perfect race; one that would leave me physically destroyed and mentally transfixed on precise execution. It did not result in a medal, but I road my best pursuit ever, 5 hundredths of a second from setting a new American record. To say I was pleased with the performance was an understatement. Can I go faster? …Yes, with time, but on that day I believe I left it all out there.

I applied this same thinking to the road race and felt great right up until flat number one hit. Still motivated, I fought to chase the peloton back down but the second flat took the wind from my sails.

In short the Parapan Games was a great learning experience and a vital assessment of where I am physically and mentally.

This is the beginning of the next 10 months before London.  I feel good about the foundation I’m starting with and now it’s  time to start erecting the walls!

I was surprised though, to ride the top qualifying time in the pursuit, edged out for silver in the finals, and then follow it up with a silver in the kilometer after breaking my shoe mid-race. Off season was upon me the moment I crossed the final finish line, and soon the entire team was placing doughnut orders and plotting the next edible indulgence. Ahhh life of the irresponsible….

So here I sit in the airport a little over a week since the start of my off season. Turns out the definition of off is still riding regularly and abstaining from doughnuts.  However, the computers, data collection and constant ride analysis are turned off. In that time, I have spent more time with my family then I have in the past 6 weeks combined. I have loved and cherished every moment but in all honesty it has been a bit painful to realize how much changes in my absence, and I admit just how much I miss the physical contact of my family.

Soon we will begin a new season…a big season…training is going to be more intense as will the daily demands of surviving and thriving as a family of four. I realize for us to achieve these goals and overcome the challenges ahead I need to be with my family. As with each new year changes are afloat, what, how, where, when… Sara and I are not sure. What we do know though is that in whatever way it all plays out, we will be a better, stronger family having shared hand-in-hand life’s many adventures…living without limitations.

Over the years, I have developed a routine of reviewing notes, books and gear in preparation of the first foray of the season into the outdoors. As luck would have it, there is a great opportunity this year, to take part in a world class Avalanche Workshop held in Whitefish, Montana: http://www.avalanchesafetyworkshop.com.

The Northern Rockies Avalanche Safety Workshop (NRASW) will take place on October 1, 2011 at 8:00am at Grouse Mountain Lodge in Whitefish, Montana. NRASW is a one-day gathering of avalanche professionals and winter backcountry enthusiasts. Five of North America’s prominent avalanche professionals will present practical avalanche safety information and research to those attending the workshop.

Having participated in several such workshops over the years, I can say that educational information, general discussion, not to mention the networking that takes place during these workshops, is incredibly beneficial to both the novice and experienced winter enthusiast. These workshops offer unparalleled access to cutting edge research and field applications that are pivotal to making your backcountry experience safer.

When we first arrived in Roskilde, Denmark, it was evident that things were going to be cold and rainy. In addition to the weather, none of my race equipment arrived, leaving me anxiously frustrated. Eventually, my bikes arrived and once I was in the saddle things began to the look up. The rain was persistent, but dealing with weather, after all, was nothing new.

The day of the time trial broke and not a drop of rain was in the sky. The high level clouds managed to keep the warming sun at bay, making for exceptional race conditions. With 6-km remaining in my time trial, I was racing towards my best TT finish ever at a World Championship. A chance encounter between a sharp object and my front tire would instantaneously take it all away. As I surged out of sharp right hander sprinting to full speed I heard the text book whisper of a soon-to-be soft tire. As luck would have it, the catch of my 1 and 2 minute men in the technical heart of the course left my team follow vehicle nearly a minute behind me. When all was done the flat would cost me well over a minute, plummeting me from a possible podium to a disheartening 9th place.

Being the final major event of the 2011 season, would the road race foreshadow what was in store for the remainder of 2011?

The weather forecast was for rain, and during our 5:30 a.m. breakfast, the sky was ablaze with lightening. The race started under ominous clouds that were rapidly morphing themselves into formidable beasts primed for the epic onslaught. Despite the impending weather, I was excited for the racing ahead; my legs felt great and riding along side me were two teammates: Jonathan Copsey and Matt Bradley. Rarely do I have the privilege of having a team to race with. Thus, riding along side these two was a real treat.

Image by DNAcycling.com

Image by DNAcycling.com

Collectively, the three of us set about covering and then countering any moves that contained the pre-race favorites. Time and distance seemed to disappear under our wheels, and soon we were receiving the bell for the final 15-km lap. At some point in the chaos of racing, we had outrun the impending doom of lightening and rain and were now racing under clear skies. It is important to note while I had spent much of my spring flanking and running from many a mountain storm, this would be the first time in 2011 in which I successfully out foxed Mother Nature.

Early in the final lap I covered a few big attacks by the heavy favorites, but nothing stuck. With half a lap to go, Jon road up to me to see how I felt; my legs felt great and I was starting to envision the impending field sprint. Moments later, Matt was at our side and checking in for the final run to the line. The final 2-km consisted of a stiff climb into a hard right before the 1.0- km false flat charge to the line. A technical cobbled round-a-bout at 300-meters from the finish had everyone’s nerves peaked.

As we steamed into the final kilometer, I was sitting in the top third of the pack locked to Jon’s wheel. We wanted to be no more than 5th or 6th coming out of the round-a-bout. So Jon went to work knocking off places until we were sitting 5th and 6th respectively as we entered the round-a-bout. As we crossed the cobbles a slight gap opened and I immediately made the jump to the next wheel.

As I locked on the final wheel of my lead out, I recall clinching my bars in anticipation of lighting the afterburners. I knew I could win this race, but I had to be patient. Suddenly, the second wheel rider began to fade and loose ground. The rider I was following surged out of the saddle to close the growing gap and in doing so threw his rear wheel into my front wheel, sweeping me hard to the right. All of a sudden, I was fighting to keep the bike up while sprinting at 40-mph. I quickly countered this loss of traction to regain my line, but in doing so I had lost a big chunk of speed and had to start my sprint further out than I had desired.

Image by DNAcycling.com

I lit the burners and away we went, zeroed in on the second place rider to slingshot around him in my bid for the line. The lead rider was too far out for me to close the lost distance, but I dug deep to hold on for second. Just as I was about to the cross the line I could feel a rider coming up hard from behind. With empty legs I fought, but Morte, the Norwegian, had managed to slide a wheel past me. Had I just earned my first World Championship’s podium?

As luck would have it, during the chaos of a feed zone, an attack from one of our C4 classified riders had snuck into a C5 break. He crossed the line moments ahead of us, to win the race uncontested. This was bittersweet news as we could have easily brought the break back, but the pelaton had been convinced that the break was solely comprised of C5 riders, and thus there was little interest in bring the break back.

While I may not have stepped onto the podium at this year’s Worlds, the satisfaction I felt at the end of the race made up for it. With a little luck I know I had the legs and team to win the whole thing and that what makes the day so special and future so exciting.

Image by DNAcycling.com

So, what does this say to the rest of 2011? I have no real idea, other than to say I continue to enjoy each moment, regardless of the outcome. I am eternally grateful for the family, friends, and teammates that help make it all possible. Regardless of how the next few months play out it has been a great year of bike racing.

First, it was the reduced power on the bike.  That meant only one thing: I was not going hard enough…so I went harder. Then it was the mood swings from happy-go-lucky to distant and missing. These swings were certainly the product of a growing list of incomplete tasks.  So, the only answer was to buckle down beginning in the early morning hours working late into the night. I continued on this path for the better part of the last 1.5 months until it happened. Sara likely never noticed, but one evening as we were sitting down for dinner I managed to fall asleep at the table waiting the 30 seconds for her to join Amelia and me. It was then that it dawned on me:  my lack of leg strength, motivation and general enjoyment of life might be missing because my body and mind were exhausted.

Naturally, one would expect sleep to be the appropriate reaction to this new evidence… not this guy.  No, I deemed what I had discovered was a chink in my armor, and instead I continued on the path to eradicating weakness from my body. In true champion form I would prevail.

Alas, I finally broke myself.  A tweaked back, a sore stumpy with lingering symptoms of an infection, and a nagging tickle at the back of my throat forced me to rest. I was in Colorado Springs when this all came to head. Fortunately for me it was an opportune time to rest,  and rest I did. I was in bed by 8 nearly every night, and despite bouts of restless legs, was logging 8+ hours of sleep a night. To my surprise, life began to turn a bit brighter and my various symptoms began to fade.  Once again my legs have some go in them.

Now I sit in the airport waiting to depart for Denmark and road World Championships after a few wonderful, but short days with my family. Between the much needed sleep, hourly tickle sessions with Amelia, holding my stout baby boy Nolan, and the loving embrace of Sara, I feel renewed and ready to race.

Sara, being the rock star she is, seems to not skip a beat, despite logging sleep in hour long chunks here and there. I, on the other hand, am playing my role as a gloomy exhausted male to perfection.

Two days after Nolan’s coming home, I was back on a plane headed to the final World Cup race of 2011 season. It would seem though, that the lack of sleep had yet to take effect. I managed a solid ride in the time trial, on a course that was not exactly opposite for this gravity challenged cyclist.  I netted my first World Cup podium with a 3^rd place. As I climbed onto the podium, it was a great feeling that the journey to the top was still intact…it was equally humbling to look up to the next two steps, to see them occupied by the current World Champions in the time trial and road.

The road race in Baie Comeau, Quebec (the same hilly course we raced on last year) found me exploring the deep recesses of the pain cave. It would seem no matter the time I have invested becoming a better climber, that I will never be defined as being a svelte mountain goat. After being dropped out of the lead break at the top of the main climb, I did my best to hold my own over the remaining 6 trips up the 1-km 10% wall. Alas the writing was on the wall on the 5 trip up, and I was popped from the lead chasers. Not all was a loss though, with  a firm lead on the remaining riders I soloed in for 6^th place, and netted the US team some hard earned nation’s ranking points.

Traveling home, I was left with the mixed emotions of satisfaction from a great weekend of world class racing, and the fact that once again I had managed to be absent from 2/3 of my newborn’s life. Thank God for Nolan’s lack of detailed memory in these early years. Any disappointment was erased though, when I opened the garage door to Amelia’s beautiful smile, and open arms eager to show of her new baby brother.

On July 14^th Sara and I celebrated 10 years of marriage. As I reflect on the past 10 years, I am overwhelmed by just how fortunate and truly blessed I am to have an amazing woman by my side, and two wonderful children to raise.

The road will continue to be riddled with ups and downs. Sometimes we will find ourselves knee deep in the mud, and other times we are floating a mile high.  However, with Sara, Amelia, and Nolan on this adventure with me, I am overflowing with excitement for what lies ahead.