Breckenridge

A few months ago, I was applying to law school as part of my application, I submitted a personal statement. I wrote about a certain race I did last year (It's about 1000 words, you don't have to read it:

When I was in first grade, I started riding my bicycle alongside my dad as he would run. We would usually go five or six miles five times a week. Sometimes I would get tired, and my dad would give me pushes to motivate me and keep me going. These rides, which at the time seemed forever long, helped teach me to get to the finish line. I couldn't stop or quit on these rides, I had to keep going. Stopping far from home was pointless; I would have had to keep riding to get home anyway. My dad would be disappointed if I quit as well, and I didn't want to disappoint him. So I pushed through, and rode through any pain until I reached home. This is how I learned to love riding bicycles, and learned to experience the joy and sense of accomplishment that can be found by pushing through to the finish.

Fast forward a few years, and I still love cycling, and that feeling that comes at the end of a long, difficult challenge. I’ve felt it numerous times in cycling, school, and service. I felt it after my semester long econometrics research project. I felt it every night after the 14-16 hour days I put in with a volunteer dental group that I translated for and assisted in the Dominican Republic. I felt it this summer as I completed the Breckenridge 70, a 70 mile mountain bike race in high-altitude Colorado.

I have been competing in cycling events since 2000, but the Breckenridge 70 was unlike any other I had ever participated in. It was three times longer and had four times as much climbing as any other race I had done. I had to train harder and prepare better than I had for any race I had done previously. Having no idea of course conditions, other than a rough elevation profile, made it particularly difficult to plan for. I had to alter my training schedule by putting in longer rides than I would have for shorter races, and adding additional training to my already busy racing schedule. I also missed several races I had hoped to do in order to spend more time training for this race.

Preparing for the race also necessitated several changes to my equipment. I made small tweaks and upgrades to my bike during the regular racing season. I treated a few of these races as experiment sessions. I tried different tires and found a good tire that wouldn't flat or tear in rocky conditions and was still very light. I experimented with gearing setups, trying to find an optimal range of gear ratios that was still as minimal as possible. I tested different parts and found ones that were both light and durable. I experimented with different modes of calorie consumption, as consuming 200-300 calories per hour and not get sick to my stomach while riding proved difficult for me. I felt that I had taken every step possible to ensure my success.

As race time closed in, I felt that my equipment was ready, and my fitness was acceptable. I was in great shape, but apprehensive about the distance and my overall endurance. The first 15 miles of the race were amazing, which I expected due to my good short distance fitness. However, about 20 miles in I really started suffering. My body was not happy. Nonetheless, I discovered that my mind was totally ready for the suffering. I was able to stay mentally fresh almost the entire race and keep my body going through all of the tough climbs, no matter how much my legs hurt. My body fell apart, but my mind stayed strong and helped my body to keep going. I had no mechanical issues, so my mind only had to focus on my body pressing forward. When my stomach could no longer handle solid foods, I was able to rely solely on energy gels and liquids. My preparation was paying off.

Upon finishing the race, I knew that I had just obtained a major victory. I didn't make the podium, not even for my age group, but I did have a stellar first endurance race. On top of that, my mind had been able to stay strong when everything was telling me to stop or take it easy. Being able to push on when it got tough, when my legs thought it was impossible, made for the most joyful day that I've experienced on a bike. The months of pushing though training, good preparation, and the mental and physical suffering I endured throughout the race was so rewarding in the satisfaction and sense of accomplishment that it brought. That feeling was a result of the pain I experienced in reaching my goal—pushing through the difficult hours of the event, the long days and weeks of training, and the discipline and sacrifice necessary to accomplish my goal. The Breckenridge 70 taught me an important lesson: I can accomplish things that require pain, sacrifice, and discipline, and when I do, it leads me to want to undertake even larger challenges—just to taste the victory.

The funny thing about it is that the race is actually called the Breckenridge 68, but it ended up being 72 miles so I started calling it the 70. Oops, my bad. Didn't realize I made that error in the statement until now. Anyway, the race is pretty rad, and apparently some of the schools liked what I had to say because they let me in. (My LSAT definitely had nothing to do with it ;) ).

Anyway, this race is happening this Saturday. And I'm stoked. I'll be riding rigid SS instead of a geared Superfly this year, which I think will make me faster. Plus I'm in better shape, which might help as well. Two days to go and I've got that butterfly nervous excitement feeling. Can't wait to go race bikes!!!

PS. I am retiring (for 3 years - Lance, Farve and Michael Jordan style) from racing bikes after this race. So if you want to race me one last time, you better change you plans and come out to this race!