Thank you

Here are some overdo thank you's and a bit of a read for those who don't need ritalin.

I want to thank my Mom for taking me to all of those BMX races. I don't know how we afforded racing so much, especially early on, but that's where I started winning on two wheels.

-A story-
There was one race, a National, where I broke a wheel or messed it up to some degree. That pretty much called it a day, because I wasn't at the point where I had a spare bike or parts or anything. But Mom bought me a set of the then new, hot, latest and greatest, Skyway Wheels. These were the mag wheels just when mag wheels where not only THE thing, but they were also the supposed "necessity" to do well.

I made it to the main event of that weekend, though that wasn't one of the wins. But at a time when we packed sandwiches to a race due to limited cash flow, that she bought the latest high zoot race wheels at a vendor at a race is a perfect example of how much she gave to get me to the starting and finish line. Dang, there were so many late nights leaving tracks from all over the state...that's not really a social life for a single woman in her early 30's.

It is somewhat surprising that I won any races in that first year of BMX. I didn't train or practice per se, but then I'd treat every warm up/practice run on the day of the race like it was a race. Looking back on it, in my mind, I was racing everytime we were on the gate. That was something like 20-30 "races" per night. I was one of the kids who would just keep sprinting after the finish line to get in the starting line sooner.

That settled down once I was in the Experts. I wasn't really training during the week back then, but I was also in every other sport in school, so there wasn't time or energy anyway. Once I hit the Experts, I was becoming more aware that I was racing only when I was racing. It didn't take long to figure out that you had to be on your "A" game to win with the big boys.

Once I narrowed it down to one school sport and racing at the same time, load of wins came in the Experts. I'd race the 13-14 Expert (when I was 13 and 14), but I'd also race up in the 15-16 and 17-18. There was also an Open category that allowed you to race age group regardless of category. Those races were also 13-14, 15-16, 17-18. One night I remember being a bit bummed because I only won 4 of those 6 possible races, and I thought that it was doable to win all six (never did, though).

Next up on two wheels was the biathlon thing. I was spending some time living at Dad and Pat's when that took off for me, and thinking back on it now, they knew as much about biathlons as I did. Kinda funny. I was running everday. And I rode about every other day at Bear Creek Park.

-A Story (sort of)-
Back then I would show up to the park and ride along side the training group there. I didn't figure out (or just didn't care) about drafting and stuff until I was at SWT and getting involved with the cycling team there. But at the park, I'd ride along side of those groups.

Turns out that those groups are the Southern Elite and Nortwest Cycling teams. They would do some pacing work, some sprint work...anything and everything, really. And I'd just ride along side of them. When I'd get dropped, I'd just keep chasing like I was going to somehow speed up and catch them or something. They'd finish their effort, slow, and I'd catch them. Actually, it probably set me up well from a mental standpoint, because bike racers in general tend to pull the plug pretty quickly once they lose contact. I can think of three occasions of races where I was dropped, kept at it and got back in the race, and then went on to win.

I digress. The biathlon gig took off, but it was mostly in spite of myself. I would hit the first run and the bike so damn hard that I would fall apart in the second run, and running was a strength back then. I'd get enough of a lead that I'd be caught by Elites and other age-groupers, but it would be enough to hold off the under 20's or the 20-24's. It isn't a tactic that I'd coach now at all, but it worked, even if it was painful and ugly. There were quite a few biathlon/duathlon wins, but like BMX, I wasn't getting any done by style; I was just plowing through. Lots and lots and lots of 2nds and 3rds due to poor tactics, strategy, and a no pain-no gain training approach (where every ride and run had to be a PR).

After hitting the biathlon scene and getting to where there wasn't much else to do but take it to the show, and being so green that I didn't realize that, I decided to take on the (then) daunting aspect of triathlon. Keep in mind that though I knew how to swim--or better, not drown--I was just wanting to do the triathlon thing because it was "next" or something.

Julie. Julie was so completely and utterly supportive of me back then. I owe her a huge thanks for directly being a part of those first half dozen or so age group wins in triathlon. We lived like elite athletes. Complete with being on limited funds, sleeping in the car, and basing our whole days, nights and weekends around training and racing.

It was then that I was figuring out the training end of things. At that point, I didn't just have me to sort out how I was resonding to training, I also had Julie who was training and racing as well. Any time we changed up anything, I had a data sample that was now twice as large. I can't really explain it other than that I just started to "get it."

The triathlon success came a little slower than the BMX and biathlon success, but this was also due to starting with a more competive category and due to successive injuries. But it was those injuries that allowed me to really hone some coaching and training skills with Julie doing the road work. I also hooked up with two great swimmers in Mary Ruth Tipton (alternate for the US Olympic team) and Tommy Birrell. Since I knew nothing about swimming except what the life guards from my Dad's neighborhood pool were telling me...

Anyway, once Mary Ruth and Tommy sorted me out, it was GAME ON. I had a run of something like 8 or 9 age group wins in a row in triathlon. Thank you, Julie.

-A Story-
Coming home from some triathlon (seems like it was east TX), we stopped in Nowhereville at a Pizza Hut. The waiter told us that we must be from out of town. We explained that we were racing a triathlon. He said, "Cool. I've seen that on TV" or something. He asked, "Did you win?"

"Yep."

He gave us our meal for free.

My triathlon gig was cut a bit short because I was hurt half the time due to training advice from the No Pain-No Gain Training Book. I couldn't run much, so I ended up spending more time on the bike. Since I was at SWT, I spent time riding with their cycling team. Since I was spending more time with them, taking up road racing seemed the next logical step.

The wins didn't come in collegiate racing (my only collegiate wins were on the track in the conference championships pursuit and kilo). However, I did learn how to win bike races. Let me s'plain.

It was here that I met Shannon. Now, he knew a little bit more about racing than me, but really, this was more of a case that he knew 55% of what was going on, and I knew about 25% of what was going on, but when we put those two together, it somehow ended up 200%.

We kicked the living crap out of just about everyone for quite awhile. Granted, this was in collegiate and cat 3 racing, but back then, collegiate racing (A's) was a bigger deal than it is now. Now that I look back on it, we stayed in the 3's too long. Then again, we were actually making money at racing, and as college students, that money was a source of income. Sad. But I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Once Brady joined the mix, it was game on every weekend. If we (as a team) didn't win, it was a dissapointment. For those of you reading who race bikes, you know how rare it is to show up to a race absolutely expecting (not hoping, but expecting) to win. We were there.

The wins I got back then were at races where my teammates didn't show up, or they came from leadouts that went "wrong." There are several examples, but a notable one is from Hotter-n-Hell in '97.

-A Story-
Shannon and I tried and tried to get away in the first 3/4 of the race. With 15 minutes to go, we agreed that nothing was going to get away, so we got in "Bread and Butter" mode (I lead him out). As we crossed the s/f line for the bell lap, we were in perfect position sitting about 6th and 7th from the front. Something happened to knock us from our spot, so I had to take a run at it with Shak in tow on the back stretch. We got from 25th or so back to tenth, rounded turn three to a 200m stretch before the final turn, and I looked back to make sure he was there.

He was in my pocket, so I darted to the right away from the strung out pack that was next to the left curb, so we could minimize how many people were on our wheel, and also to take a totally different line through the last turn than what we'd been taking for the race.

I take off and eventually pass the guy leading the pack train about 50 meters before the turn. I was going way too fast to take the inside like I had planned, so I went to the left like everyone else, and I just leaned that bike over and prayed that I wouldn't slide out, because we were going a full 10mph faster than any other time we'd taken that turn that day.

Exited the turn first, and knowing that Shak was on my wheel, I just absolutely buried it to the line, which was 150meters or so away. I was fading and fading, but Shak hadn't come around, so I just kept going hard. He usually came around just as I started to slow, and we had our timing down so that in most races, that would be about 100m from the line. I was running out of steam, but he wasn't coming around. So I kept fugging going.

I couldn't see a thing. It was all a dark tunnel with a few stars floating around. I'd pretty much been sprinting for half of a lap. 1. Me, 2. Jason Wadell, 3. Shak

There were other times when I won races from a leadout, but that was because Shak saw that we had such a lead that he didn't need to come around. We'd just roll it in 1st and 2nd. But most of the time, I'd lead out Shak, he'd win, and I'd get 7th or something.

But for those times you didn't come around, thank you Shak.

Since I devoted myself to the road and track end of things, my Dad has been supportive. He's kicked in some sponsorship cash when we didn't have any, and he's basically just been there if we needed to make sure we got to a big race. Dad totally takes my word for it when it comes to racing, and having someone with that kind of faith that, "yes, your $100 will be something that allows us to make $400 this weekend" means he opens his checkbook...all I can say is, Thank you.

The last four-five years or so...
The wins came much less frequently. One of the most memorable for me was the season kick-off race in Bear Creek Park (this was pre-TXBRA). This was a criteirum in the same park I used for training back in the multi-sport days. It is the home of the soccer and baseball fields I played on when I was growing up. And the race was the day after my birthday.

-A Story-
Brady and I started talking about this race in early November, and by mid-December we had a plan of how the race would play out. That's confidence. Or hope. Or being naive. So much so that in our race plan (we made liberal use of Instant Messaging while we were at work), we had it figured out how we were going to finish 1-2-3 with Shannon.

I won't bore you with how it played out, but the race went 99.5% the way we wanted it to do so, but unfortunately, we only ended up: 1. Me, 2. Some other guy, 3. Shannon, 4. Brady.

Planning for that race, at a time when Lisa and I were separated, I was broke, and was seeing Noah only half of the time...that race (or racing at all) was something that was an "Up" thing. Heck, that whole spring was a time of great racing with 5 or 6 wins as I recall, and no finishes outside of the top ten, except the Lance Crit in Downtown Austin, which Shannon won. But I was getting married the next day, so 11th and a team win is OK, I think. Thank you, Brady. Thanks for letting me talk bike racing, and especially introducing me to Chloe at that time.

Chloe.

We married and then there was moving, job changes, kid, more kid, businesses to start and fail and re-start...I'm pretty sure my excuse book is a thorough volume. However, the wins weren't coming like they had before.

We did, however, give track racing a try. We learned that I have a knack of figuring out the different types of races on the track. With my puny lungs, I was blessed or developed an above average ability to deal with anaerobic efforts and lactic acid build up. And track has a lot of that.

Winning on the track has added to the total, but there was something about it that made me look nervously at my win count when it got to 91,92,93,94...they were all on the track, and since I was racing P/1/2's on the road, the chances of #100 coming on the road was small. I wanted to get #100 in a "substantial" race. Some race that everyone would be proud to win. Being the tallest midget wasn't how I wanted to get there.

To give some meaning to those BMX and track wins, it is worth noting that the 100 wins doesn't count the individual races of track racing, like a Miss and Out, or Scratch, or whatever; only omnium wins count. Same for BMX. I didn't count the heats, only main events. Heck, there were probably a hundred heat wins in BMX alone. But the higher up you go in the categories, the harder it gets to win in any case, be it BMX, triathlon, track, road, etc.

If I told Chloe, "I can do this. I can train like a pro on the road, and I'll get that win, but I need to be free of distraction," she'd tell me that if it was something I really wanted to do, that I should go for it.

The reality is that it would take me that kind of training to win races at the p/1/2 level, and even if Chloe would say, "let's do this," we really couldn't. We're grown ups now.

I wanted #100 to be something memorable. But the longer the dry spell lasted, the easier it was to talk myself into letting smaller races, like Tuesday Night Crits, count.

-A Story-
My best chance came late last Summer. Form was there after the Superweek trip, and I could see a win (that's the sign for me). We had a guy in the break, so it wasn't going to be that day for the win, but for whatever reason, he sat up as the race entered the last turn just as the break was taking off for the line. The pack was charging for the finish, and I was sitting third wheel forcing others to chase. It was the perfect leadout, and I could see that the break was sprinting, but they were blown. We were catching them! We were going to catch the break, and I was being led out perfectly! I could almost see it.

Exiting the last turn, I took the left side of the road to save as much speed as possible. Just then, my teammate, who was in the break, swerved hard to the left to get out of the way...

Next up was Hotter-n-Hell, where I knew a win was realistically impossible, but I still let myself hope that, you know...there's something special about that race for me.

-A story-
Yeah. Special. I was hit with food poisoning or something on lap #3 of the crit, and I spent most of that race in a port-a-can. But JD (a teammate) won. So I spent that night thinking about how I was going to get a free ride in any break during the road race, as there was an omnium prize on the weekend. That meant I could race the front and protect JD's lead, which would allow me to infiltrate breaks but not be required to make sure they work.

Anyway, despite being fired up, at mile 2 I flatted, and the wheel truck wasn't with us just yet. I was slipping all over the place on the wet road, but I kept going to stay in contact. The truck caught up to us and me and another guy with a flat stopped. I was second to get a change, but I chased and chased and chased. I caught the other guy, and as soon as I did, he sat up. So I chased some more.

The pack was in sight for 35 miles or so. I kept thinking, "Man, if I had a teammate with me, I would be back on by now (I was in the front five when I flatted). Discouraged, I'd sit up, but then the pack would slow, so I'd chase some more, only to see them get strung out hauling ass. It was demoralizing, but I kept thinking, "I can't win #100 if I'm off the back." So I'd chase some more.

I lost more and more ground on the field. Eventually I was caught by the race behind us, and I just rode in the last 50 miles or so with them.

I had to finish, because Chloe was working the feedzones for the team.

On the drive home, Chloe tendered her resignation from soigneuring for the team and me. She would still support me if I wanted to keep at the bike racing thing, but I'd need to figure out a way to get fed and stuff, though.

I wasn't ready to throw in the towel just yet, so I went to one more race in 2004, but went there on my own.

Trying to make a 25 year racing story short...

I've written about it elsewhere, but I went to this race, slept in the car, made a mess of myself, struggled through the race, and still managed to score a decent result in the 1/2's (5th). But it wasn't a win.

Cyclocross season came, and at the time, I'd been putting in real miles for a last stab at making #100 happen in the 1,2's.

I had to sell my cross bike for financial reasons, but when one of those races came to the Metroplex, I just rode my road bike in it road tires and all. 6th. This was racing with the masters, though, because there is no way at all that I'd even be on the same lap as the top two or three cross racers in the "A" race. Obviously I was willing to let #100 come at a lesser race at this point. But I couldn't hold the pace with the leaders at the end, even in the masters race, and that was that.

The wheels, figuratively and literally, came off soon after. No training. No nothing. You've read and heard all the reasons from me in earlier posts. My riding has been limited to about once per week with Noah.

He's wanted to race on the track for some time now, and with my buddy Mike's help, we got him a cram (not crash) course to be eligible to race on the track in the week leading to opening night at the Superdrome. I hoped to ride some laps with Noah at his class, but there was that thing with the riding lawnmower, so I missed out.

Chloe was away in NYC for the week, and even though she arrived only Friday afternoon, she agreed to go directly to the track to watch Noah's first race ever there. Because I still wanted to turn some laps with Noah, I took my bike as well, as we were going to have plenty of time to ride before the crowd and racers showed up.

While riding around on the track, I had a flat. That is baaaad news on the track, but I handled it. Went to the truck and got a tube to fix it. About the time I got it fixed, the announcer said registration closed in ten minutes.

I went up to the table, got Noah registered, and...

There is absolutely no reason for me to expect to win with no training, but without thinking about it, I registered. Habit? Guilt? Selfish? Fun? I still don't really know.

I did, however, limit myself to just one category of racing (I'm eligible for two races because I can race Master's as well). I decided to race the 3's because I wanted to add numbers to the 1,2-3 field for opening night. Besides, if you are going to get thoroughly embarrased, do you want to do it in church league softball, or do you want to do it in a real game, in a real stadium, with a real crowd?

Well, I'm of the type that would rather strike out facing Randy Johnson than hit a homerun because there was a hole in the Dairy Queen sign in the left field fence of a podunk softball league.

So I raced with the 1,2, 3's. But for the Texas Cup, the 3's are racing against the 3's, even though they are on the track with the 1,2's.

Overall, I think I ended up 6th or 7th on the night in the combined race. That's like hitting a single off of Randy Johnson. Nice, but no big deal. But in the 3's, I won (meaning I beat the other cat 3), so there's my #100, right through the hole in the Dairy Queen sign.

But Chloe and all of my kids were there. Chloe could have chosen to sit this one out. She just got back from NYC and all, I wouldn't have felt bad about her not being there. Actually, I would have felt bad for running off to a race just as she got back into town. She was there, though, to see Noah race. I raced anyway and my family was there...I'm eternally grateful that they were.

Noah was the first to give me a hug, because he was wondering why I was getting all buzzed (I can't think of another word that is something like "emotional" but subdued). He went and got Reanie, and she gave me a kiss.

On one hand, I'm extremely relieved to get it done. On the other, I wish it would have been under more competitive circumstance. But hey, it was opening night of Texas Cup racing on the world class Superdrome. I can't help it if people don't show up to race.

I did. Well, I didn't, but I did. Sort of like Noah's, "I won, a kinda not a race but it was a race so I won..."