From brinckenberger@nwlegal.com Tue Mar 6 13:48:01 2001 Received: from mxu2.u.washington.edu (mxu2.u.washington.edu [140.142.32.9]) by lists.u.washington.edu (8.9.3+UW00.05/8.9.3+UW00.12) with ESMTP id NAA96540 for ; Tue, 6 Mar 2001 13:47:59 -0800 Received: from cascadia.drizzle.com (IDENT:root@cascadia.drizzle.com [216.162.192.17]) by mxu2.u.washington.edu (8.9.3+UW00.02/8.9.3+UW99.09) with ESMTP id NAA13834; Tue, 6 Mar 2001 13:47:59 -0800 Received: from [192.168.0.7] (dsl213.drizzle.com [207.207.64.213]) by cascadia.drizzle.com (8.11.2/8.11.2) with ESMTP id f26Llv222778; Tue, 6 Mar 2001 13:47:58 -0800 Message-Id: <200103062147.f26Llv222778@cascadia.drizzle.com> X-Mailer: Microsoft Outlook Express Macintosh Edition - 4.5 (0410) Date: Tue, 06 Mar 2001 13:47:41 -0800 Subject: Re: [RecycledRacing] Unidentified subject! From: "MAC 7" To: busto , uwracing@u.washington.edu CC: RecycledRacing@eskimo.com Mime-version: 1.0 X-Priority: 3 Content-type: multipart/alternative; boundary="MS_Mac_OE_3066731262_4428597_MIME_Part" > THIS MESSAGE IS IN MIME FORMAT. Since your mail reader does not understand this format, some or all of this message may not be legible. --MS_Mac_OE_3066731262_4428597_MIME_Part Content-type: text/plain; charset="US-ASCII" Content-transfer-encoding: 7bit Wait Wait Wait, you mean you got college credit for this? Jesus. I thought I quit college because it was hard. Brian ---------- From: "busto" To: Cc: Subject: [RecycledRacing] Unidentified subject! Date: Tue, Mar 6, 2001, 11:57 AM This was my first college essay. That desire has died out a bit at times, but their are a few new logs on the fire. Take from it what you will. The season is upon us-now we see if all that training and prep has payed off. Set some goals-it is an incredible feeling when you meet them. Busto Wheels are Turning in My Head Im waiting on the start line, my heart is pounding. Sometimes it pounds because I am nervous, other times merely because I have just finished a good warm up. If I am indeed nervous, I am in my own world, trying to focus. I close my eyes and think, visualizing the course, trying to accept the fact that very soon my body will be in pain from intense physical exertion. I let my mind know this, so that it will not be stunned. I believe letting the mind know what will happen beforehand will allow it to maintain focus once the race begins. An early warning system of sorts. Heart still pounding, I check my heart rate monitor to ensure everything is in order. The stopwatch is set, my heart rate is where the physiologists tell me it should be, and I set the alarm to sound in the rare event I am going to slow. Next I look at the clock. The race will start soon, so I run through a personal checklist, making sure everything is in order mentally. Then I look at the bike, checking the brakes and ensuring I am in a proper gear. I give the rider next to me a handshake and a good luck, before entering my starting stance. The race director gives some final instructions before sounding the gun. The first few minutes of a race are hectic. The pace is furious and one has to scramble through and around other riders to earn their position on the trail. Sometimes, somebody pulls a bad move and riders go down, creating a pileup and swearing and shouts of frustration ensue. In the space of thirty seconds the body is catapulted from a standing rest to the height of its physical capability. Somehow, the mind forgot the warning you gave it before the race. The pain can become crushing, prompting the question, Why do I do this? Only two hours to go. After a rhythm is developed, a comfort and calm appear in the mind. The pain is still there but the mind blocks it. Even the intricacies of dancing down a root covered descent or keeping momentum up a steep climb are minimized to the electric currents carrying input from the eyes to the brain and back out to the muscles. A simple thought process presides.pedal, brake, pedal, eat, drink, pedal, corner. Soon, a new problem arises. When your lungs start to hurt and your energy is depleted, self preservation leaps forward and lets its voice be heard. It tells you to quit before your body is broken, it is not meant to be put through this sort of exertion. Muscles start to cramp and a course that didnt seem so bad on the first lap suddenly seems to loom ahead of you, laughing. Laughing at the rider for hurting themselves so bad for nothing more than the sake of competition. The mind starts to listen and thinks about quitting. It would be the quickest way to the end of the misery, but then you remember something and you do not quit. You remember all your goals and dreams and tell all the voices to stuff it, you are not going to quit because these dreams and goals are talking louder. The finish is not too far off and the little voices telling you to quit subside until next time. If your goals and dreams create a strong enough drive, the voices will fail next time as well. That scenario is true at any age and at any level. Those very thoughts entered my mind during the race I did last weekend and in my first race at the age of eleven. Seven years ago racing was just as hard as it is today, though the battles are different. I did the dishes for three weeks to pay for that first race. I rode extra hard for increased fitness and tuned up my bike, so no mechanical problems could possibly slow me down. The day of the race was a nervous one. I was fretting about when to get up, when to eat and how to prepare for the race. I knew it was going to be hard as I was racing in an open age class with men ten and twenty years my senior. Yes, this little rider was the small fry of the bunch, but the crowd loved it. I got totally psyched by all the cheering I received. No one knew my name, so they just yelled, Go little dude! I didnt do well in that first race, I didnt even finish. Despite all the hard training and preparation I put into it, I sucked. I didnt give that a second thought; only the race itself entered my mind. I loved going as hard as I could and riding with all those other people. The atmosphere of a race was, and is, much different than that of just a normal ride. The pace is heightened and pressure abounds. On the ride home, I was already thinking of the next race. It wasnt until the next summer that I raced again. That first season I only did one race. Over the years, as my dedication to the sport has become stronger, the tally has gone up. In season number two, I did two races, followed by five in 1992. Five races was what I did for several years until I reached high school. Once I was fifteen I really started to race a lot more. First it was thirteen races in 1994, then eighteen the following year. 1996 was a breakthrough year, as I did forty-two races in the course of the season. Finally, this year, I will have completed just under fifty races when the season ends at the end of the month. Fifty days of racing is a lot; it means an incredible amount of time spent traveling, preparing and cleaning equipment and many nights spent on somebodys couch or on the ground. These are great times though, and I am always thinking about them. In fact, racing is pretty much all I think about. There are always visions of glory floating around in this head of mine. I dream of winning, crossing the line with my hands raised in the air. I dream of winning everything from local races to the Olympics. When I think like this, I always get a chill up my spine and my skin tingles. This is how I know how important cycling is to me. There is nothing else that I focus on more or has the same skin tingling effect. Nothing. Success in cycling is what I want most at this point in my life, and I want it so bad I can taste it. My goals are large, easily resisting the urges to quit. It is not hard to be a competent cyclist, but it is hard to be a great cyclist. I train much harder than most other racers, thus I am faster than most. Eleven months a year I train full time. I do four hour death marches in forty degree rain in the winter and intervals out my ears in the spring and summer months. Sprints, grueling climbs, and all out repetitive efforts are all part of the repertoire. Sometimes I will even do four races a week. Though this causes extreme overtraining, timed right it will leave a rider on peak form after several weeks of recovery. I spend ten to eighteen hours on the bike in a normal week, and this doesnt even include the time spent stretching, lifting weights, preparing for a ride and maintaining bicycles. Even in December, my rest month, I am still training, just doing different things such as running, skiing and more weight lifting. I work hard. However, it seems as though no matter how hard I work, there are always people faster than me. Many of them work even harder than I do, but some of them do not. There is nothing more frustrating than seeing the success I desire come so easily to other people. Sometimes it is merely a matter of physical maturity, especially at my age. Unlike womens gymnastics, a cyclist is fastest between the ages of twenty-five and thirty. There are exceptions, though. The top two riders in the world this year are only twenty, and at eighteen were already international stars. I wonder if the fact they were so far ahead of me at my age tells me I will never reach the top levels or if I simply need to wait seven years until I reach the peak age of twenty-five. I am a good cyclist, but not a great one. I am still at the bottom of the climb to greatness, but I have such a tremendous lust to see the top that I do believe I will get there some day. I will need all the patience and focus I can muster to get there. For seven years, it has taken a lot of patience to overcome the frustration of being a boy in a mans sport. When I see guys my own age rise to the high levels I so greatly desire, patience is needed to realize that Ill get there one day. Patience is needed to step back, and look at how far Ive come in seven years, instead of crying about not being the best already. Patience will be needed to continue to invest huge quantities of time and energy for the next decade to realize my dreams. However, I have seen many racers who received instant success drop out of the sport. They started to realize natural talent could carry them only so far, and realized to go any further they would have to start working as hard as the rest of us. They didnt have the drive and dedication to do that. I havent had the success I yearn for, so I keep on training and working, making steady improvements every year. If I am to go anywhere, I will have to work tremendously hard to overcome all the riders with a lot of natural talent. Those who possess enough natural talent and a lot of drive are the ones who become champions. Champions are the ones who followed their dreams, and invested in them. They probably would understand my fixation on the sport, but many people do not. Though not in these exact words, Ive been asked many times, Why are you doing this? You put so much into it, but what does it really get you? Immediately when I hear this question I realize explanation is futile. Investing in a dream outside of education is not a traditional route, and many dont think it is a credible one at that. Usually the folks who have to ask that question think it is a waste of time. I try to explain anyway. I figure I owe it to them as well as myself. I usually try something a little like this. Well, success in this sport is a dream Ive held for a long time, and its something that I believe I can achieve with the right amount of focus and effort. Blank look. Its what I want more than anything else at this moment in my life, and Im more than willing to sacrifice the normal path to achieve these goals. Oooooooooookay, accompanied with more blank looks. It seems sad that most dont understand. Does this mean that they dont have a dream, a passion, of their own? --MS_Mac_OE_3066731262_4428597_MIME_Part Content-type: text/html; charset="US-ASCII" Content-transfer-encoding: quoted-printable Re: [RecycledRacing] Unidentified subject! Wait Wait Wait,

you mean you got college credit for this? Jesus. I thought I quit college b= ecause it was hard.

Brian

----------
From: "busto" <mtbiker@u.washington.edu>
To: <uwracing@u.washington.edu>
Cc: <RecycledRacing@eskimo.com>
Subject: [RecycledRacing] Unidentified subject!
Date: Tue, Mar 6, 2001, 11:57 AM


This was my first college ess= ay.  That desire has died out a bit at times, but their are a few new l= ogs on the fire.  Take from it what you will.
 
The season is upon us-now we see if all t= hat training and prep has payed off.   Set some goals-it is an inc= redible feeling when you meet them.
 
Busto
 
 

Wheels are Turning in My Head

 

            Im = waiting on the start line, my heart is pounding.  Sometimes it pounds b= ecause I am nervous, other times merely because I have just finished a good = warm up.  If I am indeed nervous, I am in my own world, trying to focus= ..  I close my eyes and think, visualizing the course, trying to accept = the fact that very soon my body will be in pain from intense physical exerti= on.  I let my mind know this, so that it will not be stunned.  I b= elieve letting the mind know what will happen beforehand will allow it to ma= intain focus once the race begins.  An early warning system of sorts. <= BR>
            Hea= rt still pounding, I check my heart rate monitor to ensure everything is in = order.  The stopwatch is set, my heart rate is where the physiologists = tell me it should be, and I set the alarm to sound in the rare event I am go= ing to slow.  Next I look at the clock.  The race will start soon,= so I run through a personal checklist, making sure everything is in order m= entally.  Then I look at the bike, checking the brakes and ensuring I a= m in a proper gear.  I give the rider next to me a handshake and a good= luck, before entering my starting stance.  The race director gives som= e final instructions before sounding the gun.

            The= first few minutes of a race are hectic.  The pace is furious and one h= as to scramble through and around other riders to earn their position on the= trail.  Sometimes, somebody pulls a bad move and riders go down, creat= ing a pileup and swearing and shouts of frustration ensue.  In the spac= e of thirty seconds the body is catapulted from a standing rest to the heigh= t of its physical capability.  Somehow, the mind forgot the warning you= gave it before the race.  The pain can become crushing, prompting the = question, Why do I do this?  Only two hours to go.

            Aft= er a rhythm is developed, a comfort and calm appear in the mind.  The p= ain is still there but the mind blocks it.  Even the intricacies of dan= cing down a root covered descent or keeping momentum up a steep climb are mi= nimized to the electric currents carrying input from the eyes to the brain a= nd back out to the muscles.  A simple thought process presides.pedal, b= rake, pedal, eat, drink, pedal, corner.  

            Soo= n, a new problem arises.  When your lungs start to hurt and your energy= is depleted, self preservation leaps forward and lets its voice be heard. &= nbsp;It tells you to quit before your body is broken, it is not meant to be = put through this sort of exertion.  Muscles start to cramp and a course= that didnt seem so bad on the first lap suddenly seems to loom ahead of you= , laughing.  Laughing at the rider for hurting themselves so bad for no= thing more than the sake of competition.  The mind starts to listen and= thinks about quitting. It would be the quickest way to the end of the miser= y, but then you remember something and you do not quit. You remember all you= r goals and dreams and tell all the voices to stuff it, you are not going to= quit because these dreams and goals are talking louder.  The finish is= not too far off and the little voices telling you to quit subside until nex= t time.  If your goals and dreams create a strong enough drive, the voi= ces will fail next time as well.

            Tha= t scenario is true at any age and at any level. Those very thoughts entered = my mind during the race I did last weekend and in my first race at the age o= f eleven.  Seven years ago racing was just as hard as it is today, thou= gh the battles are different.  I did the dishes for three weeks to pay = for that first race. I rode extra hard for increased fitness and tuned up my= bike, so no mechanical problems could possibly slow me down.  The day = of the race was a nervous one.  I was fretting about when to get up, wh= en to eat and how to prepare for the race.  I knew it was going to be h= ard as I was racing in an open age class with men ten and twenty years my se= nior.  Yes, this little rider was the small fry of the bunch, but the c= rowd loved it.  I got totally psyched by all the cheering I received. &= nbsp;No one knew my name, so they just yelled, Go little dude!

I didnt do well in that first race, I didnt even finish.  Despite all = the hard training and preparation I put into it, I sucked.  I didnt giv= e that a second thought; only the race itself entered my mind.  I loved= going as hard as I could and riding with all those other people.  The = atmosphere of a race was, and is, much different than that of just a normal = ride.  The pace is heightened and pressure abounds.  On the ride h= ome, I was already thinking of the next race.  

            It = wasnt until the next summer that I raced again.  That first season I on= ly did one race.  Over the years, as my dedication to the sport has bec= ome stronger, the tally has gone up.  In season number two, I did two r= aces, followed by five in 1992.  Five races was what I did for several = years until I reached high school.  Once I was fifteen I really started= to race a lot more.  First it was thirteen races in 1994, then eightee= n the following year.  1996 was a breakthrough year, as I did forty-two= races in the course of the season.  Finally, this year, I will have co= mpleted just under fifty races when the season ends at the end of the month.=  Fifty days of racing is a lot; it means an incredible amount of time = spent traveling, preparing and cleaning equipment and many nights spent on s= omebodys couch or on the ground. These are great times though, and I am alwa= ys thinking about them.

In fact, racing is pretty much all I think about.  There are always vi= sions of glory floating around in this head of mine.  I dream of winnin= g, crossing the line with my hands raised in the air.  I dream of winni= ng everything from local races to the Olympics.  When I think like this= , I always get a chill up my spine and my skin tingles.  This is how I = know how important cycling is to me.  There is nothing else that I focu= s on more or has the same skin tingling effect.  Nothing.  Success= in cycling is what I want most at this point in my life, and I want it so b= ad I can taste it.

My goals are large, easily resisting the urges to quit.  It is not har= d to be a competent cyclist, but it is hard to be a great cyclist. I train m= uch harder than most other racers, thus I am faster than most.  Eleven = months a year I train full time.  I do four hour death marches in forty= degree rain in the winter and intervals out my ears in the spring and summe= r months.  Sprints, grueling climbs, and all out repetitive efforts are= all part of the repertoire.  Sometimes I will even do four races a wee= k.  Though this causes extreme overtraining, timed right it will leave = a rider on peak form after several weeks of recovery.  I spend ten to e= ighteen hours on the bike in a normal week, and this doesnt even include the= time spent stretching, lifting weights, preparing for a ride and maintainin= g bicycles.  Even in December, my rest month, I am still training, just= doing different things such as running, skiing and more weight lifting. &nb= sp;I work hard.

However, it seems as though no matter how hard I work, there are always peo= ple faster than me.  Many of them work even harder than I do, but some = of them do not.  There is nothing more frustrating than seeing the succ= ess I desire come so easily to other people.  Sometimes it is merely a = matter of physical maturity, especially at my age.  Unlike womens gymna= stics, a cyclist is fastest between the ages of twenty-five and thirty. &nbs= p;There are exceptions, though.  The top two riders in the world this y= ear are only twenty, and at eighteen were already international stars.  = ;I wonder if the fact they were so far ahead of me at my age tells me I will= never reach the top levels or if I simply need to wait seven years until I = reach the peak age of twenty-five.  

I am a good cyclist, but not a great one.  I am still at the bottom of= the climb to greatness, but I have such a tremendous lust to see the top th= at I do believe I will get there some day.  I will need all the patienc= e and focus I can muster to get there.  

For seven years, it has taken a lot of patience to overcome the frustration= of being a boy in a mans sport. When I see guys my own age rise to the high= levels I so greatly desire, patience is  needed to realize that Ill ge= t there one day.  Patience is needed to step back, and look at how far = Ive come in seven years, instead of crying about not being the best already.=  Patience will be needed to continue to invest huge quantities of time= and energy for the next decade to realize my dreams.

However, I have seen many racers who received instant success drop out of t= he sport.  They started to realize natural talent could carry them only= so far, and realized to go any further they would have to start working as = hard as the rest of us.  They didnt have the drive and dedication to do= that.  I havent had the success I yearn for, so I keep on training and= working, making steady improvements every year.  If I am to go anywher= e, I will have to work tremendously hard to overcome all the riders with a l= ot of natural talent.  Those who possess enough natural talent and a lo= t of drive are the ones who become champions.

            Cha= mpions are the ones who followed their dreams, and invested in them.  T= hey probably would understand my fixation on the sport, but many people do n= ot.  Though not in these exact words, Ive been asked many times, Why ar= e you doing this?  You put so much into it, but what does it really get= you?  Immediately when I hear this question I realize explanation is f= utile.  Investing in a dream outside of education is not a traditional = route, and many dont think it is a credible one at that.  Usually the f= olks who have to ask that question think it is a waste of time.  I try = to explain anyway.  I figure I owe it to them as well as myself.  = I usually try something a little like this.  

Well, success in this sport is a dream Ive held for a long time, and its so= mething that I believe I can achieve with the right amount of focus and effo= rt.  

Blank look.  

Its what I want more than anything else at this moment in my life, and Im m= ore than willing to sacrifice the normal path to achieve these goals.  =           Oooooooooookay, = accompanied with more blank looks.  It seems sad that most dont underst= and.  Does this mean that they dont have a dream, a passion, of their o= wn?

--MS_Mac_OE_3066731262_4428597_MIME_Part-- .