The Limit

Recently I thought about the how many times I'd pushed myself beyond the limit of what I could do while on a bike. I've been in other situations in my life where this has happened but cycling is different.

Cycling isn't about survival. It isn't about having to overcome some life threatening or life altering challenge or event. it isn't about life or death choices.

The difference is that it is willful. Pushing yourself beyond what your body is prepared for using only your will is a different thing. At any point I could have just stopped without loss of life or limb yet I chose to keep going despite my body's clear signals that perhaps this wasn't such a good idea.

A few examples:

1988. Some goat path over a mountain in Spain. It's my third day in big mountains. I am WAY over geared and grind my way up this thing for an hour. I sit on a bench by the side of the road at the top and cry. Really.

1989. Some road race in NY State. I make the mistake of jumping into a break with the big boys. I am so nervous I don't eat or drink. An hour later I get head spins and have to sit by the side of the road until the ambulance scoops me up.

1992. Somewhere in Quebec. I flat after about an hour. I get a wheel change and then the neutral car drives away leaving me utterly alone with no food, 1 bottle and 100km of windy rollers. When I crawl across the finish line there is no finish line. They've torn it up, taken down the stage and most everyone is long gone including the jitbags on my new team who were supposed to be doing support for ALL of us. I find my rental car and sleep in the front seat until morning - still in my kit.

1997. A World Cup track event in Trexlertown is canceled. The riders are already on this side of the pond so the event is quickly relocated to Victoria where I lived at the time. After the WC many stick around for BC Superweek.

80 lap crit. All I remember is the silver rear hub of the wheel directly in front of me for the first 40 laps. Once the break goes the pace drops off slightly. My memory of the race starts there.

1998. A RR in Vancouver. Brian Walton leans on me in a tight corner and then jumps on the way out. I think "Well, there's a good wheel to follow." I jump. There's nothing. I slip into the group. I slip out the back of the group. The race rides away from and I can barely hold 20kph.

The next day I go for a blood test. I have a hemoglobin count of 19 with virtually no stored iron. All a result of the last few years of big training trying to be a bike racer.

2004. I black out for a second at 2500m trying to chase down the main bunch so I can hide from the wind. I barely avoid riding into a huge ditch on the side of the mountain. I blackout again while driving on my way home. I almost drive into the median.

2010. I nearly burst a blood vessel in my head after a relentless series of "why", "because" with my 3 year old son.

The worst part is that I know that this list will continue to grow.

O' what a fool am I?