Racing is pure madness. Madness, I tell you!! You sign up for a race months out with great excitement and ambition. In the days leading up to the race, the doubts start surface, and by the morning of the race, you are a wreck. At least I am.

I have done a few races now, and a clear pattern is emerging. Racer check-in is a strange blend of excitement to see people you know, and being overcome with regret for you poor decisions thinking you should race. Every. Single. Time. And yet, getting your bike plate is so exciting. In a terrifying way.

The shakeout ride that often happens the day before the race is a good way to manage the nerves. You get to preview a section of the course usually and meet some fellow racers. The problem is that you talk to other racers who are equally anxious. On the one hand its great to see that you’re not alone in your fears, but I also wonder if these commiserations compound our anxiety. Now you’re certain that you’ve underestimated the difficulty of the course, and it will be more difficult than you expected, and that you’re probably going to die. There is neither logic or common sense in the head game of racing.

With a little experience, I know now that I just have to hydrate, breathe deeply and show up to that start line with plenty of time. It’s still scary, but you face your fears, and show up. There are always multiple nervous pees. The correlation between my liquid consumption and my bladder output on race morning defies logic.

At some point it really does have to be the last pee, and you need to get into the start chute. Get your watch ready, turn on your bike computer, and breathe. Deep breaths – in through the nose, out through the nose. When I worked with a coach, he taught me not to load at the back of the chute which feels like the logical thing when you best effort is molasses mode. Instead I load in the middle of the chute. This way I get swept up with the crowd for a short boost at the beginning of the race. Of course I still get dropped, but it takes a little longer this way.

When the gun goes off and the chute starts to roll, it’s usually pretty slow. You have one foot on the pedal and the other still on the ground as the group rolls out. It takes a few minutes until you’re actually riding, and in these few moments, my mindset shifts from the high likelihood of certain death because the race is too hard for me and I’m in over my head and everything is bad, to, I guess I’m going for a bike ride. Sometimes it’s a really long ride with big climbs, but here we go. I mean what the hell else are you going to do but turn the pedals at this point.

Racing is hard, but also so fun and so empowering. Even on the hardest climbs, I’ve learned from people who know things, to lift my head and look around and take in my surroundings. Racing takes me to incredible places that I would never ride if it weren’t an organized event with a marked course. I’d certainly never ride as long and climb as much as a I do in a race on a casual ride.

Taking in the wonder around me, is usually enough to distract me from the challenge that I’m enduring. It’s enough for me realise not only how lucky I am to ride my bike in these beautiful locations, but also that I am strong enough to do this. Yes it’s difficult, yes, I’m slow, yes I may be struggling in the moment, but I know now that I have way more left in the tank, even when I’m struggling. I just have to keep turning the pedals. One pedal stroke at a time. And when it gets too steep, and I can’t turn the pedals anymore, I can push my bike. The posture break is usually a nice relief and it’s also a good opportunity to eat something. Staying on top of my nutrition and hydration is key to race day success. This nutrition/hydration is not only to keep my body fueled, but it also helps to keep me in a good space mentally. How my race goes is far more about what’s going on in my head than in my body.

As long as I can remind myself that I am stronger than I think, that I have worked hard to build the fitness to do this race, I know I can keep moving forward. Sometimes, I need to remind myself about the power of believing in myself. Barring illness, injury or a mechanical, I’m going to finish. It may just to take me longer.

At a race earlier this year, I worked so hard to make the cut off time at the second aid station, and I missed it by 5 minutes. I was cut from the long course, and was directed to take the turn for the short course. My heart was broken even though I had told myself that I would be ok with it, as long as put in my best effort. Even in the disappointment of the moment, there were lessons to learn.

The challenges in any race are offset by the giddy delight of the descents at some point. There’s a playfulness about going fast downhill that makes you forget all about the climbing. I forget how much I was cussing and moaning and I’m back to loving racing and riding bikes and squeal with delight as I go flying down the hill. Flying down the hill is a relative term and how fast you go doesn’t actually matter at all. You just need to feel that thrill of the wind in your face, and feel like you are flying.

The love-hate cycle may repeat a few times along the race course, but the ending is always joyful and exciting as you cross the finish line. You did it! At the back of the pack, times and competition tend to matter less as we’re mostly just racing against our own limiting beliefs about racing being too hard. Oh the joy of proving yourself wrong again. It’s hard alright, but not too hard. Not at all.

The post-race high is difficult to describe. You’re proud, you’re tired, you’re relieved and most of all you’re happy. You’re surrounded by others who have shared the same experience and if you’re lucky, you’re surrounded by friends at the finish who share in the thrill of your success.

Maybe it’s different for other racers who are more committed to their race goals, but even a lesser accomplishment is still deeply satisfying for me. My first gravel race was 100 miles and took me over 11 hours; I was thrilled about finishing. When I had a 6:30 hour goal for another race and I finished in 6:40, I was delighted to be so close to my goal time. When I missed the cut off and had to take the short course, I was so pleased with how much I was able to push in my effort to beat that cut off. Yes I fell short, but I’d learned to dig a little deeper, push a little harder. Once the tears and the disappointment pass, your perspective improves.

Racing is so much fun. Yes its hard, but that’s the point really isn’t it. You push yourself, you test your limits, mentally and physically. You meet new people and the best part is that you have to put in months and months of work ahead of time to have a good day on race day.

So many people miss out on the joy of bike racing because they’re too afraid to come last. Last place is still finishing, still having the race experience. You actually get way more of the race experience because you are out there longer. Only you can decide if the risk of coming last is too mortifying that you don’t even want to try racing.

And that would be a shame. A dreadful shame.