Realizing my Potential

For all purposes, my results in Spain had exceeded all of my expectations.

As we loaded the vans and head north for France, I found myself in an unusual state of confidence, satisfaction, and for the first time in a long while, I was not dreaming of winning.  Rather, I was planning on how I could win. It may come as a surprise to some of you that I would be struggling at all with the thought of not being able to win. But the truth is winning at the top level has been something that has had me a bit scared these last few years…so much so that on occasion I have likely defeated myself mentally before the start clock even begins the countdown. Spain was changing that for me…settled into our French hotel I was awash in the joy of getting to race my bike not as a follower but as a leader for the win.

The first day of racing consisted of a very non-paralympic road course.  “Non” because of the sustained climbs in the profile. Not known for my climbing, stage one caused my greatest deal of pause and concern. As I rolled to the line, for once my mind was not reflecting on the “what if’s” of getting dropped, but rather the “how to’s” of making the lead break. To execute my plan, I made sure that at the base of the major climb I was riding in the top couple of riders.  I would then set a hard tempo pace lifting my speed only when necessary to follow the fastest group. In the first 4 of 8 trips up the climb, this approach had me digging deep but still within my abilities, and I was comfortably with the leaders. As the race wore on, the pace slowed a bit with each climb to the point I was moving to phase 2 of my plan…positioning myself for a chance at winning the stage… and then I was robbed of it.

A few kilometers from the base of the climb, while driving the pace on the front, we were suddenly blocked by an official’s vehicle pulling perpendicular to the road, while someone hung out the window screaming in French. Not having anyway to avoid the vehicle nor understanding what was being yelled, I was forced to stop and unclip as I helplessly watched the riders behind me squirt by on the shoulder/ditches of the road. Once the leaders saw that some of us had been held up by the official, the attack was on. Just as fast as I had been stalled from racing, the official car was gone as if nothing had happened, leaving me to frantically chase. Despite my best efforts and snagging the back of the lead group at the base of the climb, my solo attempt to bridge the gap left me drained. Extremely upset that my chance at winning had been stolen from me, I soldiered on to the finish line and immediately expressed my desire to petition the outcome.

As I expressed my disgust over the events that unfolded to my coach, I must admit I was very doubtful it would result in any correction from the officials. However, after a literal dramatic reenactment of what unfolded on the road, necessary to bridge the language barrier, our coach Adam returned pleased to inform me that the officials would credit me with the lead groups finish time.  Despite missing a chance at the stage win, my hopes for the overall were still alive.

What unfolded over the next two days will certainly be logged away as defining moments in my 2010 season. Saturday was a double day of racing with a short TT (time trial) in the morning followed by a technical circuit race in the afternoon.

At the start of the TT there was a 5-way tie for first in the GC (general classification), but after 8.6 km of racing there was going to be one leader. As the clock counted down to my start, my mission was very clear:  take the lead. Moments into the TT, I was faced with a brief moment of doubt as the first hill’s poison ran its course through my legs. In time, pushing though that pain is also a masochistic measure of agood ride… so I begged for more. Eleven short minutes after the start, I steamed across the finish mentally and physically exhausted knowing nothing more than, I had done all I could do. As it would turn out, in those 8.6 km I was putting my stamp on the race, having won the stage while netting a 32 second lead on GC.

Thrilled with the morning’s outcome I was confident in my ability to preserve my lead during the 3^rd stage. I did not, however, expect to be racing in a near biblical rainstorm.  Nor had I anticipated crashing on a technical corner and then chasing to minimize my losses preserving my lead by an ever-so-small 8 seconds.

While crashing had certainly not been in the plans on Saturday, there was no way I could afford such a mishap in the final race and win the overall….that is unless you have great teammates. Rarely do we, team USA, have the luxury of having teammates to race with in International events.  But on Sunday, thanks to the organizers grouping like-disability fields together, I was at the start line with two strong/dedicated teammates, Greta and Aaron. You can imagine my joy, when I saw Greta and Aaron sit up out of lead pack, as I slid across the pavement on the rain slickened corner shredding my shorts and muddying the leaders jersey. As the seconds ticked by and I watched the threats to my overall riding away, Greta was calmly counseling me to collect myself and get ready to win a race.

Back on the bike, and tucked in tight behind Greta and Aaron, team USA went to work voluntarily diving head first into the pain cave with no regard to how deep they may be asked to go. Their selfless desire to help, and unshakable confidence in my ability to win the race infused me with energy far beyond a gel shot or energy drink. This internal surge swelled within me as Greta gave me a final shove back into the lead bunch. Later, as the final meters of the bike race unfolded in front of me, I exploded onto the pedals not hoping to win someday but knowing I could win that day.