Lots of things motivate us and drive us. Sometimes in real time and sometimes as a memory. I’ve had a little bit of both of that happening to me this past half year or so.
Let me lay the groundwork here a bit. Back in my sophomore year of high school, my physical education (phys ed or PE) classes were not my favorite. Oh, sure, I could play the games but I was anything but athletic. But in a particular situation I found myself becoming competitive and, at the same time, improving my performance.
This event back in the late 1960s would come back to influence my behavior in my cycling experiences as I approach 70.
Our PE classes at Palo Verde High in Tucson were regular games and activities during the week, culminating in a Friday class where everyone from all classes was required to run the 1.5-mile freshman cross country course. During the week we started class with an out-and-back run from the gym to the fence on the west side of campus. We went out and trickled back, not being allowed to start class until the last runner was back. I usually ran this Friday torture in around 12 minutes.
Of course, this did not sit well with the athletes in the class who wanted to get on with whatever stick-and-ball sport was scheduled for class. And I was usually one of the last guys in.
But one day my attitude changed toward this beating. At dinner one night, my dad suggested that maybe I should jump in and take a crack at “leading the charge.” Yeah, go out and lead the pack and get back in time to enjoy class.
Hmmm. Ok, dad, I’ll give it a shot.
The next class I dressed quickly and sped out the door, leading the whole group (about 25 15-year-old boys of all shapes and sizes). This went on each day until that first Friday. At the weekly x-country course run, my time dropped–down into the 10:30s. A couple weeks passed, me leading the group out and back and my times continuing to drop. Then on one Friday, coach was calling out at the end of Friday class for our times:
“Maynard, your time.”
“9:20, coach.”
“Whhhaaattt,” the group gasped! Maynard, the class doormat, dropped almost 2 minutes off his time? Oh, now the secret was out. But I had not only shown them, I’d shown myself just how I could improve if I just challenged myself and took the initiative. It was my first experience with athletic ability.
Years later, first as a runner and then I cyclist, I repeated this exercise. Most recently I did it with the “cool kids” of my main cycling group.
This group has a lot of accomplished cyclists that ride together at very fast speeds. Lots of drafting and just all-out speed. There was (is) no way I can break into the core group. But I found I could ride beside them–and maybe even pass them. But it took time and a lot of effort–both physically and mentally–on my part.
As my friend, Dale, said recently: “Paul, you are one of the few riders in this group who doesn’t think he’s as good as he really is.”
It started on the Wednesday hill ride this spring. I stopped intentionally riding at the back of the back. And taking the shortcuts that Richard cooked up for those of us who didn’t want to do the hardest hills in the middle. I did this for a number of weeks (missing Bible class, mind you) and found yourself staying in the middle of the pack and staying with the leaders (though Bobby, our leader, makes sure all stay together and gathers the group a key times so we all finish together.).
My biggest showing was at a recent Thursday night ride. This is usually a 1-lap, drag race round White Rock Lake. The group (of from 5 to 10 riders) starts out together and mostly stays together–depending on which superstar is leading or driving the group. On that particular Thursday, I stayed with, and even led, the group. and while I finished 8 out of 8 riders, I did my fastest lap ever (38:29 minutes for 10.99 miles) at my fastest average speed (17.1 mph). While it was satisfying, it was also a bit of a let down, as the others do this routinely. I guess I better suck it up and realize if I’m going to ride with these people that I can’t get excited about my time–I just need to stay with them.
This application of experience seemed to pay off. Thanks, Dad, for that dinner table advice. Fifty-plus years later it still works! Lead ’em out of the gym (or bar)!
Relentless
