Or am I?

After the BC Bike Race (BCBR), I was home for one night to do laundry and repack and then headed off to do Singletrack 3, another mountain bike stage race in the Kootenays. Following that race I traveled to Whitefish, Montana to do a one day gravel race, The Last Best Ride, and stayed for a visit. Home now, after two months of adventures, I feel like I am finally processing my race week experience at BCBR. Even after all this time, I shake my head and ask, “Did that really happen?”

I raced as a team of two with my friend, Benjamin. Benjamin is a strong rider who had already done the race three times. He convinced me last August, that if we raced together as a team, I could do the BC Bike Race. He was patient with me all week, supported me in every possible way on and off the trail. On course he would ride beside me with his hand on my back pushing me up the fire road climbs. Where it was too steep to push me, he’d walk up the hill pushing both bikes. When we got to singletrack climbs beyond my ability, he would ride up and then come back to take my bike. I was amused to notice that he wore different shoes after Day 2 when he realised how much walking he’d be doing racing with me.

He quickly got to know my riding ability and would lead me into features so I could follow his line on the descents. Where the riding was above my skill level, he would yell back and caution me against those lines. Benjamin was 100% focused on my success. That meant avoiding injury and conserving energy. It also meant making sure I got enough calories and hydration each day, and some much needed boosts to my morale when my spirits were low over the course of the week.

It was on Day 4, smack dab in the middle of the week, when I was forced to come to terms with the gap between where I was as a rider and athlete, and what was required to get through this race. The day before had been a super fun day, and perhaps I was hoping that that would be a turning point and that the rest of the week would get better. Day 4 was a pedally day, with a high slog factor and a low fun factor. I was fine to slog when rewarded with fun descents and there were none to be had on this day. There were a lot of tears that night, coming to terms with my reality. But there was also a commitment to keep showing up to take on the struggle presented by each day.

I showed up to the start line on Day 5, having made peace with just how much I was going to have to lean on my teammate to get through this race. I also had to let go of my goal to stay ahead of the shortcuts. Where you’re too far off the back, the course team will “suggest” a different turn to shorten the course. The first one was hard to swallow, but I quickly realised that this was the only way I would get through the race.

Day 5 ended up being such a great day. Cumberland is mountain biking heaven and I was no longer carrying the weight of expectation. I’m sure there were struggly bits, but mostly I remember how much fun it was.

Day 6 kicked me in the teeth again, and there was another shortcut to be had. This time I was glad for it because the fun factor was at an all time low. There was just one more day to get through.

Day 7 was another great day of riding in Cumberland. It was a great course with so much fun descending. Riding into the finish chute with my friends and racing community there to celebrate my success is the race week highlight that will stay with me for the rest of my life.

I would never have been able to get through this race without Benjamin and I am eternally indebted to him. When we talked after the race about how discouraged I was to recognise the gap between my best effort and what was required to do this race, he reminded that I am coming to the racing game later than most people do. For me, starting to race at 54 and 3 years of racing experience just meant it was that much harder.

I had trained so diligently, so consistently for this race and had the guidance of a great coach. While I never expected it would be easy, I had expected that it would be manageable. I felt strong most days and was able to deliver my best effort. The recognition of how far short my best effort was from what it takes to do the BC Bike Race was a bitter pill to swallow. I’d finish most days feeling tired, but never shattered. I’d recover well and feel ready to go again the next morning. Every morning in the start chute, my determination to try harder would battle the knowledge that there was likely a lot of struggle ahead in the day. But you clip in and you ride out on course to silence that chatter.

The endurance piece was probably the one place I found success. I can keep turning the pedals, but I’m slow. The technical riding, especially the technical climbing was challenging for me. I felt like I rode well on the descents. Often we were able to catch up to the back of the pack on the descents, but as soon as the trail started climbing again, I’d get dropped. I looked for another gear, but it didn’t exist. Over and over again I had to remind myself that this is just where I am. I’d done the work, and I was showing up and turning the pedals, and I pushed through as best I could – day after day.

I got through all 7 days, but it took a lot of help and support. I have the belt buckle to prove it, and there’s even a little movie documenting my race week experience. Still there’s a whisper in my head that questions if I really did do it. Between the shortcuts and all the help I needed from my teammate, I’m still sitting with this one. Benjamin reminds me that I turned the pedals, but still ….