On Day 3 of the Intelligentsia Cup, we raced around the city streets of Elgin, Illinois. 23 laps around a 5.73 km (3.55 mile) circuit which had two steep climbs, a number of false-flat uphills, and 18 turns – that’s a mind-boggling 414 turns total. In the end, I made the break, and then came 2nd. I lost the race.
I know it sounds harsh, like I am being too hard on myself, but it’s true. 2nd place is the first loser. And if you ain’t first, you’re last… But it wasn’t just that I got beat in the sprint. I didn’t lose because I can’t do 1000 W. It’s more than that. After looking back, analyzing my power file, but more importantly, re-playing the race in my head, there are a number of mistakes that I made that cost me the win:
Wasting energy: I pulled too hard and too often in the break.
In hindsight, it’s obvious: I did too much work, laid out all of my cards on the table, and wasted precious energy that I could’ve used later to attack in the finale (more on that later). But at the time, I knew what I was doing. I had amazing legs and I felt so good. I knew I was doing a lot of work, pulling longer and harder than everyone else, but I wanted to make this break stick.
I was confident. But I was overzealous. The break wasn’t guaranteed to stick until 1 lap to go. Before that, the gap had hovered around 45 seconds for over 40 km. And once we realized the break would stick, it was already too late. I had pulled long and hard, and my break-mates knew it. They marked me closely on the final lap, and I got stuck on the front more than once, pulling at 220 W because no one else would.
Losing the game of poker: my break-mates played me like a fiddle. After bridging across – first solo to the chase, second with a strong group of two – the riders who would go on to finish 1st and 3rd were pulling more pain faces than Thomas Voeckler at the Tour. I thought they were going to get dropped. With 30 km to go, maybe 20 or 10 km to go. But if we made it all the way to the final lap and I attacked, surely they would be gone.
After sharing the workload for over 45 minutes, as we entered the final two laps, my break-mates looked fresh as daises. There was no pain, snot, or spit written across their faces anymore. They looked fresh, focused, and determined to beat this dumb American who thought they were tired. They got me.
Not believing in myself: this is by far the most important mistake that I made. Cycling is a mental battle – as is life – a never-ending battle between mind and body. The body screams out in pain; the mind tells it to keep going. Every day I practice mindfulness and meditation, which I believe has helped me push through the suffering which seems so immense, and to finish rides and races that I wanted to quit hours ago.
But on this day, I lost control. My mind was thinking too much: My legs are tired. This really hurts. Am I bonking? These other guys are strong. I can’t attack them. Because if I do, they’re just going to chase me down and I’ll end up getting last.
So in the closing stages of the race, with less than 2 laps to go, when my three breakaway companions and I knew we were going to win – and that three of us would get on the podium while one would be left out – I should’ve attacked. I had the legs to do it, but I didn’t have the mindset. I didn’t believe in myself. And now I’ll never know – I’ll never know what would’ve happened if I attacked. If I would have soloed to the win or gotten dropped. And it aches in my heart because I didn’t even try.
***
It is often better to lose than to win. In winning there is not much you can learn. You beat everybody, so what does it matter if you attacked sooner, saved more or less energy, or countered at 3 to go instead of 2 to go? Thinking of other scenarios is thinking of ways that you could have lost, and what’s the point in that?
But in losing, there is so much to learn. What did the winner do that you didn’t? If you missed the break, what did those riders do that you didn’t? Did they attack at a different time, on a different part of the course? Identify when and where you went wrong, and think about what you can do to correct it for next time. There’s always another race.