I’ve been asked the question enough now, as to why I’m not racing in Trexlertown this weekend. It’s safe to say that I’m going to be off my bike for a while after this one. It’s hard to sit here in Colorado Springs, and wait to see if another country is in fact going to show up. It’s also hard to sit here, knowing that I want to race with every single muscle fiber in my body, but I have to trust those who are in charge of me, and believe that no one else is going to show up and points are not going to be awarded.

For a while now, my body has been shutting down. Way before the fixed gear classic I’ve had incredible stiffness and loss of power. I couldn’t be eating more, yet my body doesn’t want to recover. Every time I visit sports med, they expect me to boast of my hard workouts, when in fact I haven’t been in the gym for over 3 weeks, and my workouts on the bike have been in taper mode for the same amount of time. My massage therapist is confused by the accumulation of bruises I’ve come to collect all over my body, not to mention how tight I seem to be, no matter what help she tries to give. My mind is blown, I’m drained and exhausted. It’s been a while since I’ve hated riding, and right now, even riding the tandem sounds horrible.

Sometimes some circumstances that seem to only affect one other person actually shatter the dreams of someone else. It’s hard to stand by and watch something unfold that you have no control over, and even so, something that’s going to directly affect myself as a person, yet no one seems to realize it. Not having power, or someone next to you that is willing to understand that is hard. I have to give a huge amount of thanks to my sports psych for being that person in my life. Someone who sees what is happening and understands and is willing to talk. Even if it is only once or twice a month. My body thanks me for those sessions.

The opportunities that I have been given here in Colorado Springs leave me speechless. Times like right now, make me feel the need to push on harder. But I can’t. Instead I watched as Kevin walked out the door without me this morning, preparing to head to a bike race I worked hard to get too. I’m frustrated, and not pleased, but in the end, I’m not there. I wish all my track sprinter friends the best of luck. Take whatever my legs have left and use it for yourself.


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