"There are few things that you can't do as long as you are willing to apply yourself.” –Greg Lemond

This time of the year that I often find myself looking at my cycling and asking myself how did I get here? Why am I doing this to myself? Is this still fun? I sit and look back on what was likely my best racing season ever. I can just as easily look at my results and goals and see that I failed to achieve everything I set out to do. I find myself questioning my approach. I have had a nice couple of years recently, so do I continue to follow my current path and look for incremental improvement? In my head I remember one of my coaches saying, do what you always did and you will get what you always got. When is good, good enough? So do I blow the whole thing up, get a new coach, try new workouts? How will this impact my riding? Will I have still have fun? How will this change who I get to ride with? Why am I doing this?

For just some dude like me it is the lure of progression that drives me forward. Consistent improvement. This above all else is why I continue to race, and why I am so passionate about cycling. I have said numerous times, I love the process and preparation to race as much if not more than racing itself. Time and effort allow progression. I stayed with it, and have continued to grow, and that keeps it interesting. I recognize that I am not the most physically talented rider. I am not athletically gifted. I cannot catch a ball. However I do recognize that cycling is a nice home for folks like me, who although not athletically talented, can be repaid for diligence, tenacity, and desire. In this game, by continuing to work at it, work at my weaknesses and focusing on learning I can find success.

In 1989 I did my first bike race. It was kind of a beer bet, and I rode in the Cat 5 Class (mtb classes didn't exist here yet). I swore at that time that I would never wear lycra as I rode around in my vans low tops, cut-off camo shorts, and Pro-Tec skateboard helmet. I wouldn't race again until 1991. I can clearly remember saying, "I don't think I'll ever be a Sport rider." I remember the first time I rode in lycra shorts and how much better that worked. I remember my first Sport race the following fall and falling over at the finish in 21st place. I clearly remember saying to my wife that "this is the last stop for me, it's so hard to be competitive in this class, I have no idea how experts train at that level." Five years later after winning three Sport races in a row, I finally graduated to the Expert class. Progression. In that first race I can remember lining up next to Jeremiah Bishop, and after three laps having my father yell, "you're only down 20 minutes!!" Some lessons are hard to learn.

When I review my training logs, I smile as I see the growth in my ride times, the change in efforts, the volume. I am lucky to be surrounded by an incredible community, who each year seems to step it up a notch. Evolution. In my 12 some years of riding I have seen and met a lot of great people. I have had the privilege of racing up and down the east coast. I have been a part of some incredible teams and raced in some horrid conditions.

What makes a mid-packer, a joe six-pack, a some-dude like me keep going? Growth. I can point to that first race, that first time I cleared the rock garden at Brandywine with a rigid fork, or the rocks at French creek, both directions. I remember the first time I passed Nick Riddle on a climb. The first time I saw world-famous Todd Forest crack. My first big road ride with Katie. The first time I finished in the lead group of the Tuesday Night Worlds. All milestones, all important, all trophies in my mind, and on this journey, and education.

For me this year, as I write my goals down, and still struggle to decide how I will achieve them, I know that I will have successes and failures. But I also know that for me, I will strive to grow, to become a better cyclist, a better technical rider, a better strategist during the race, a better support to my teammates, and stronger presence in our community. And that if I am willing to work hard, listen to those around me, I can continue this process and I will improve.

In 12 years since I considered myself a cyclist, this sport has gone from a couple-day-a-week hobby, to a lifestyle. My wife and I wake and plan our day around getting out for a ride, then doing chores. When faced with the option of new couch or a new cross bike for Diane, well of course we got a new bike. Cross is king after all. This was not an overnight thing, but a slow and steady burning flame and passion.

A couple of years ago on my race resume, I wrote the line "I expect this year to really be a break out year for me." What I see now that I didn't see then was that in reality, I will never have a break out year. It's not my nature, it's not my style. Instead I will slowly evolve my style, and make minute improvements each year. Luckily years of miniscule improvements add up every once in a while. I'm not exactly sure how my season will be structured this year, and that's okay. I'll have fun, ride a lot, and hopefully have another year where I can say that I have continued to improve.

“(Training) doesn't get easier; you just get faster." –Greg Lemond

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