Old Fart

I seem to have fallen into a habit of starting my blogs with some sort of commentary about the ever rapidly passing of time. I have to admit that I imagined a reduction in training hours following my 24 hour racing escapades leading to some free time. Evenings spent lounging around outdoors drinking wine in the sunshine, perhaps? It's not just the somewhat variable Wellingtonian summer weather that put an end to that plan. Festive celebrations (ok, so some of that did involve vino al fresco), birthdays (some of those did too), training, work, racing and a training camp resulted in the last few weeks flying by. You know you're an old fart when you talk about time passing like that. You definitely know you're an old fart when you tell everyone on your 35th birthday that you officially did your first mountain bike race 20 years prior. And have a ding dong battle with someone who wasn't even born then. Did I mention I'd noticed a few grey hairs lately? Don't get me started.

Birthday Racing!
Rad shot of velodrome stadium steps by Jordan Moss - Vortex Photography

I love it that I'm still (well, back) racing. While twenty years has provided me with a good deal of life experience to cultivate plenty of perspective, there is still some enduring youthful desire to do something faster or bigger or longer*. In fact, my bucket list seems to be growing rather than shrinking with items getting added to it more quickly than I can tick them off.

The latest addition to that list has been born out of a mesmerising experience following a series of little blue dots moving around the South Island, some of whom I call friends. Don't worry, I called them friends long before they were little blue dots. If you have no idea what I am talking about go and have a look for yourselves here (click on the live GPS tracking link on the right to see the little blue dots). A 1,100 kilometre mainly off road journey in one of the most beautiful countries in the world sounds like a bloody good way to spend four to eight days, if you ask me (make that closer to three days if you're Dave Sharpe, who is chomping his way through 360 kilometres a day!). And they haven't even had rain! Not to mention the Facebook photos of the food that is fuelling such endeavours (with rose tinted glasses on, I'm deliberately overlooking associated tales of bicycle mechanical woe).
 
Photo stolen shamelessly from one of the little blue dot's (Craig Madsen's) Facebook page

The other list that seems to be growing is the one of the number of people I get to share this whole racing thing with. I keep discovering more and more people who are still lining up on start lines in various corners of the world as well as those who are just starting out with their own goals and aspirations. In fact, one of my most fun weekends of late was being involved with the Karapoti Training Camp. The "sharing the journey" bit sounds all very pink and fluffy, but it was fantastic to have a captive audience of seventeen people subjected to my enthusiasm. It's difficult to describe just how much one race can mean, particularly when it's on your doorstep, but I remember saying last year that if there was just one race I wanted to win one day then that was it. Part of what makes Karapoti iconic is that it's been held on the same crazy hard course for 29 years. That in itself seems to spur people on to get a bit more out of themselves, which was a cool thing to vibe off over the training camp weekend. See all of you for celebrations at the finish line on March 1st!


 
Karapoti Training Camp '14
 
The last thing I've reflected on recently is a certain monkey on my back from junior racing days. Some dumb ass anxiety stuff related to an ever escalating self-prescribed idea of what I should be achieving on two wheels, which tends to fall short of a dose of patience. It's a great thing when it's under control but gets a bit messy when it's out of hand. Why mention this on a blog full of slick action shots and a long list of results? Mainly because it's a lesser talked about part of racing. Not for everyone, but for a good number. And as someone who formerly subscribed to a predominantly physical fitness and bling equipment path to success, I'm acutely aware there's a bit more to it than that. Yep, more pink and fluffy me and a nod that the headspace stuff is equally important for performance. And critical for enjoyment and longevity. Lesson learned - about time. Back to the slick action shots...


Good luck to everyone heading to Vegas for the National MTB Champs. My money is on a particularly closely fought battle in the women's race for the white jersey accolade, which is just the way it should be. For everyone heading to sunny Nelson for Coppermine, see y'all there!

 
 

*Youthful desire doesn't always necessarily equate to an ability to pull off something bigger...like a jump, as I discovered on Xmas Day. Should be old enough to know better, but clearly not.

Penulis : Kim Hurst ~ Sebuah blog yang menyediakan berbagai macam informasi

Artikel Old Fart ini dipublish oleh Kim Hurst pada hari Monday, 3 February 2014. Semoga artikel ini dapat bermanfaat.Terimakasih atas kunjungan Anda silahkan tinggalkan komentar.sudah ada 0 komentar: di postingan Old Fart
 

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