Pre-Race Jitters

So, tomorrow is my first race of the season -- if you don't count the indoor race I did back in February. We went out this afternoon to pick up my race packet and drive the course. What in the world am I thinking?! There is a hill on the bike course that seems to go on forever.

I whined to Geoffrey about it today -- even when he told me no whining. He says to just put my bike in "Granny gear" and take my time going up. Sherry implied that there is no shame in walking my bike up the hill.

Ugh! I think the butterflies in my stomach have butterflies in THEIR stomachs! We went out to dinner after picking up the packet and we sat across from a family that is competing tomorrow. They've been coming here from Nashville for 12 years to compete in this race. Apparently the daughter won the women's overall a couple of years ago. I thought she was a cute kid until I heard that. Of course, I was then forced to hate her immensely. OK, just kidding.

Clearly I have no designs on winning or even placing in this race. In fact, if I had to set goals, I'd say 1) Finish the race and 2) Finish the bike course without falling, vomiting or committing some other equally embarrassing act. How's that for setting the bar low?!

Gosh, just 12 hours from now my knees will be knocking (even more than they are now) and I'll be watching the clock as the elite racers head out to get started. I know, I know, why so nervous if I claim not to care about winning or placing? Well, here's the thing. Several years ago, my Dad and I were at a big football game in which "his team" was playing. I vividly remember waiting for the hotel elevator with him before heading out to the big game. You could look at his face and tell that he was just as anxious as the guys on their way out to the football field when he was about to take a nice cushy seat in a skybox. Just before the elevator came, he turned and looked at me. He said, "You know, I really hate to lose. Shouldn't you always try to be the best?" At that moment, I suddenly realized where my competitive nature came from. Dad was a boxer when he was younger but that was before my time. So it never struck me until then that there is competition in everything and for some of us, it is precisely that spirit that drives us.

So, tomorrow when I'm out there pedalling my buns off I'll be thinking of Dad. No, I probably won't win, but yes Dad, I will absolutely try my best. Note to self: call Dad after the race and tell him again how much I love him.