Racing bikes is hard: physically, mentally, emotionally. But damn, it’s fun. And every race, teaches you something. Every single race.

A couple of weeks ago I headed back down to Dufur, Oregon to race the Gorge Gravel Grind. I’d been there two weeks earlier to attend Serena Gordon’s Special Blend Gravel Camp. It was nice going to race somewhere that now had some familiarity and so many familiar faces from camp. Sometimes I think the best part of racing is the people you meet and get to share the experience with.

I was signed up for the Medium Course – a little over 100km. I can do that distance, but doing it fast enough was the challenge. You had to reach the second aid station before 1:30, or you’d get rerouted to the short course. I knew it was going to be tight for me with a 9:30 start.

But I had a plan! I was going to push hard, take chances and burn through my matches. I’m always conservative wanting to make sure I have enough left in the tank. To beat that cut off time, I was willing to dig a little deeper, and find out where the limits lay. I also knew that this was a safe place to blow up with great on course support.

The gorge area is known for brutal winds, so I understood that wind might be a factor – but that was out of my control. I just need to focus on the things that I could control and find that average speed required to make that damned cut-off. I was ready to go out, do my very best, and be ok with the outcome.

On every climb, I tried to bump the speed up a little bit. Where I was turning the pedals at 8kph on a climb, I pushed that number up to 9 or 9.5kph. I got out of my seat more and just kept finding little ways to keep going a little bit faster. On the descents, I took more chances. I looked further ahead, stayed off the brakes a little more and just tried to make little incremental gains wherever I could. On the flats, of which there were very few, I pushed a little harder to just keeping bumping up that average speed.

At the first aid station, I stopped to for a quick fluid top-up and kept rolling; I had a cut-off to beat. I was feeling strong and in a great head-space. When we’d ridden this same course two weeks earlier at camp, I was way more tired by the time we got to this aid station. Oh yes, there’s an aid station on the ride each day at camp. The wind had started to pick up so I donned my wind layer and headed back out on course as quickly as I could. So grateful for the support of the team at 7Mesh for hooking me up with great gear.

I wasn’t looking at the clock, because I knew that would create the mental fuckery I needed to avoid. Instead, I kept my head down and kept focusing on turning those pedals a little quicker. I was expecting the aid station around km 54, and the likelihood of beating the cut-off was looking pretty good. There was definitely some fatigue starting to show from the effort and battling the wind, but I was still feeling strong. Kilometre 54 came and went and still no aid station in sight, but I knew it had to be close. The conversation in my head was, if I do make it, can I continue battling this wind? Three kilometres later, at kilometre 57 I saw the tents and the little white coffee truck. I pulled into the aid station at 1:35. I’d missed the cut-off by 5 minutes.

With the urgency having passed, I went over to the coffee truck – what luxury is this – for a shot of espresso with a splash of water. I had my coffee, had something to eat, and needed to pee before getting back on the bike to take the short cut home in the wind. In the porta-potty, I couldn’t hold back the tears. Disappointment? Relief? Mental fatigue from the fierce determination? Probably a combination. A good cry STILL makes everything better, even at 56.

I got back on my bike and headed down the short course route back to the finish. The next section is a 10km descent at just under 5%, so it’s a fun, fast, good time. Much less so in the wind where I found myself pedaling all the way down to get some of the speed I was looking for.

By the time I arrived back at the park where the ceremonial finish line was – the actual timing mat had been a few kilometres earlier – my perspective had reset.

I always say that everything in life unfolds in my favour. Had I made the cut-off, I’d have determinedly wanted to push on. The winds continued all afternoon, and would have annihilated me, especially after already having used up so many of my matches to get to that point, I mean I might still be out there blowing around those fields today.

Instead I rolled into camp while the post-race celebration was still in full swing. Usually I’m the last person rolling in when everyone has left and the finish line is about to come down. This was a nice change. I had lunch with other racers, and we exchanged race stories. It was lovely. And, I felt pretty good, having ridden 30km less than expected. I also felt good about having been able to push that little bit harder. Yes, at the end of the day it wasn’t enough, but now I know there’s another level I can engage. That’s a lesson I can carry forward with me to the next race.

When I eventually looked at my race data, I had cut almost 30minutes off the time from riding that same loop two weeks before. My average speed was up and my power output was up. Even with the disappointment of only doing the short course, it was a great day on the bike. I’m calling all of those wins!

My race, my rules, only I get to decide what my success looks like.