An Eventful Offseason

               The fabled offseason is theoretically the time of year when everyone takes a few weeks (or longer) break from repeatedly turning their legs into mush day in and day out. People catch up on tasks put on the backburner from months earlier, spend time with friends and family instead of their two wheeled companion, and purposely lose the necessary fitness in order to recharge the batteries to do it all over again next year. For true subscribers, this means no riding whatsoever. Even simply a leisure ride to the store brings back painful memories of past interval sessions that are to be avoided at all costs. For others, bikes are still very present in the offseason, but there’s none of the intensity which existed throughout the year. Ride durations are minimized, different disciplines are explored, and the coffee ride becomes much more common. In any case, the offseason is an essential part of any training schedule and is vital to quality performances in the future. 

               For most, this time of the season involves putting the legs up, having that extra bowl of ice cream, and not going outside in the freezing rain/snow to suffer into an ever-present headwind. My ‘offseason’ was a bit unorthodox this year... Rather than a relaxing time lounging on the couch, I spent two days living in airports and cramped seats, then haphazardly trying to get my life back in order and out of two boxes. Granted the whole travel thing forced me off the bike for some time, and when there’s a twelve-hour time difference, everything is a bit screwed up. It’s not exactly easy to get up and go bury myself when my internal body clock is telling me “bedtime” during early afternoon, and it’s quite dark at three in the morning when I’m fired up and ready to go. Luckily, I quickly adjusted to the difference by drinking way too much caffeine throughout the day and forcing sleep during the night (which was sometimes made even harder from the aforementioned caffeine). But as every true cycling addict can relate, by the time two easy-pedal weeks in New Zealand wound down, I had already begun to go a touch crazy from lack of breathing hard and was keen to get back to putting the legs to good use. 

               Like any good mountain biker, one of the first things I did to settle into my new home was buy a road bike. I mean, training on the road is necessary to pedal fast on dirt… and I’m not going to wear down my only set of tires on asphalt, right? Besides, commuting to work would be way easier; runs to the grocery store would be quicker, and the ice cream wouldn’t melt. These were some of the excuses I gave myself to legitimize the purchase of a stupidly light road bike. All said and done, the real reason was probably that I wanted to go for the KOM on the beyond-category climb on my doorstep. 

The Ruapehu mountain road winds its way for about 20 kilometers (I’ve had to convert… you’re going to suffer with me) through Tongariro National Park and finishes at the carpark for Turoa ski resort. Someone told me it had a similar profile to Alpe d’Huez, and I’m not really going to check the accuracy of this statement because the thought gives me a few extra watts when things get steep. And do they ever get steep. Clocking out with a total of 1000 meters (ha more metric; reach for your converters) from bottom to top, and 500 of those happen within the last 5 kms. Remember that it’s 20 total kilometers… and half the vertical occurs at the very top. Needless to say it gets hard, especially after 40 previous minutes of threshold effort. 

               Now would be a good time to point out how my shiny new road bike has road gearing. This means that it’s meant to go fast on flat ground with big chainrings in the front, and a compact cassette in the rear. Without going into the boring technical aspects of gear ratios, here’s the overarching point: when things get steep, pedaling becomes REALLY hard. Luckily, I’ve got backyard access to +15% grades and a general propensity to repeated suffering. 

Mt. Ruapehu from the Turoa carpark

               My first attempt at the Ruapehu mountain road basically ended with me almost giving up and haphazardly swerving by the time I reached the top. From then it was only a terrifyingly fast descent with semi-frozen toes and fingers. (I had forgotten things usually get cold at 2000 meters above sea level.) Since then I’ve struggled up the steep gradients again and again, continually forgetting the pain which awaits me. Even after the short time I’ve been here, this climb and mountain have found a special place in my heart; not only because it has the ability to me feel incredibly small, but also because it gives me the opportunity to push myself and suffer for the process of improvement. 

              

               Prior to flying over the Pacific, naturally I scanned the internet for races around the North Island. Without really thinking about the timing or details of the events, I put as many down on the calendar as I could find. Just about the first thing that comes up when you Google ‘bike event north island New Zealand is the Taupo Cycling Challenge. This one of a kind event is a gathering of all the bike tribes, with offerings of all difficulties for both road and mountain disciplines. And since Taupo is only 90 minutes away from where I’m living, I automatically signed up for the hardest mtb category… no matter that it’s 82 kilometers (50 miles) long, has upwards of 2000 meters of climbing, and is basically all on singletrack. Sounds like a great idea for someone coming off the stress of an entire racing season, batteries still recharging, and decreased fitness levels, right? At least that was my thought, or better put lack thereof. So now we can add training for an extremely challenging event into the offseason routine. Actually, by now I think it’s relatively safe to say we’re done with the offseason… 

               After realizing I only had about two and a half weeks to prepare for what was quite possibly one of the hardest races I’ve competed in this year, it was time to do a bit of rapid-fire training. That meant a few things: time in the saddle, vertical, some sprinting, and a quick dusting off of the mountain bike skills. Luckily, I had a mountain in my backyard and some in-your-face/physically demanding trails out the front door. Once the first ten days were complete, I was quite relieved that my house didn’t have any stairs. A bit of recovery and final tuning of the body then before I knew it the race was only a couple days away, and all of a sudden it was go time.

Picturesque Lake Taupo

               Turns out Taupo is a little slice from my dreams. A gigantic picturesque lake surrounded by lush mountains and seemingly every outdoor activity known to man. The town was overrun by cyclists of all kinds there for the Challenge event, and in every direction, there were bikes: bikes on the road, outside cafes, on cars, you name it. Instead of being inspiring, it instead brought up the inevitable butterflies and nerves which accompany event weekends. As I settled down for a cozy sleep in the back of the car it took all my willpower to keep the doubts and concerns from creeping in and stealing absolutely all my sleep away. The nagging thoughts are only allowed a few minutes per night.

               I awoke to a cold morning with a light drizzle in the air; the sky threatening more precipitation. After a larger-than-normal breakfast I kitted up and rode the short distance to downtown Taupo and the race start. There was an air of nervous excitement surrounding the city in the pre-dawn glow, as everyone did their best to hide the ever-present race day doubts. Now was not the time for second guessing; now was the time to trust the process and put the best effort on the line. No matter the weather or competition, everyone would be racing only themselves and the clock out there. I rolled up to the mountain bike start line, currently sitting in the second wave scheduled to take off one minute behind everyone up front. Doing everything possible to keep my heartrate in the double digits I focused on breathing, noticing the physical sensations around me, and full-on trying to get the whole meditative state going… to variable success. 

Mountain bike parade

          The first wave was sent off. Away they went into the light rain and towards the 80 kms which awaited us all. The announcer counted us down: “Thirty, fifteen, any time in the next ten seconds…” By now there was no meditative state, no controlling the heartrate: it was time to put the flash-training to the test.

               “GO!”

Airport musings

Round two… here we go. Once again I’m sitting in an airport, completely terrified out of my mind but fully committed to the journey that lies ahead. Quick description of the situation: I’m putting off being a responsible human who uses their newly-earned college degree and running away to work in a bike + ski shop in New Zealand. School has never been high on my priority list, and when I finally walked across the stage and was handed an expensive piece of paper it was a dream come true. Granted, I was in no way ready to leave my friends, the fun times, and the amazing place that is Bozeman, Montana, but I was closing the door on the traditional education part of my life… and at this stage there’s no plans to reopen it.

               As a recent college graduate, it seems as if everyone in the world has one question for you: ‘So what are your plans for after school?’ Then as I would explain how I was going back to Southeastern Wisconsin to live with family and save money, continue to pursue a (vastly unsustainable) career in mountain bike racing, and work as a mechanic for a bicycle company, they would slowly come to the eventual realization that I had no idea what I was going to do. Next, they would attempt to keep the conversation going by politely asking what I majored in, and when ‘geography’ was my answer, the inevitable following question would be ‘what can you do with that?’ After bumbling through some response which hit the buzzwords GIS, planning, and cartography I’d explain how it would most likely be necessary to return to school and somehow come out the other side with a master’s degree. By this point in the conversation I had gone into autopilot mode and I’m sure whoever I was talking to could see my eyes glaze over as I recited the speech I’d done a million times. So they’d be kind and switch the topic, which was completely fine with me.

               Long story short I still have no idea what I’m supposed to do with a college degree… apparently people frame them and hang them on their walls and stuff. And if I don’t know what I’m going to do with an expensive piece of paper I REALLY have no idea what I’m going to do with my life. I knew one thing for sure, I wasn’t going to live at home in the flatlands of Wisconsin. Don’t get me wrong I loved living with my family and coming home from work to a self-refilling fridge, but once my Friday nights turned into ice cream and bed at nine, it was time to take the next step. I did the normal responsible things such as create a respectable LinkdIn profile, update my professional resume, apply for ‘real-person’ jobs, and send countless emails with a slightly-altered cover letter to any company which seemed even slightly appealing. The hard part with applying for jobs as a recent college graduate is that there are literally thousands of people just like you, and millions slightly (or a lot) better. Who is going to take a second look at a twenty-two year old with a recently given B.S. degree in geography who got average grades throughout school, did nothing special in terms of extra-curricular activities (meaning absolutely nothing), and who has two projects to show for work experience, (both of which obviously involved quite a bit of hand-holding and assistance from professors). In any case, it was all about networking, and my current network… well it didn’t exist.

               So throughout all the ‘real person’ job applications, I threw out my resume to a small-town bike shop in New Zealand who were in need of a mechanic. The position description said open to international applicants and I figured what the hell. Within the next few days I got a response email, and after a couple calls over Facebook messenger and more emails I got a job in New Zealand. No bother that it was halfway around the world and I had no plane ticket, or really not even enough money to buy one, but I had an opportunity to run away from adulthood for a bit, and the owner of the shop said I could crash on a couch until I found a place of my own… so what could go wrong?

               That brings us to the current situation: sitting at gate D51 waiting for a glorified aluminum tube to fly away and take me to New Zealand; away from everything that goes along with ‘responsible adulthood.’ Well not directly to New Zealand, I’m far too poor for that. The next thirty hours I’ll have the luxury of calling airports home and will be spending far too long squished into economy class. But on the other end there’s a whole new country for me to explore, countless new experiences, new lifelong friends, and hopefully a decently comfortable couch.

Here we go again

               I’d like to think perseverance is a trait of mine. It takes some level of single-minded/borderline stupidity to do the whole ride-a-bike-really-hard-till-stairs-become-torture thing repeatedly, all in search of that feeling of progress and fleeting race day performance. But even if this perseverance and commitment applies to some aspects of my life, it is definitely not an overarching quality. Take writing for example. In a vain attempt I’ve tried to keep people (not really sure who) up to date on race results, how I felt, what I learned, and how life was going in general. After a few months I realized my repetitive life is not exactly one people would eagerly tune into in order to hear the latest developments. The question “I wonder what Payson’s been up to recently?...” can often be answered by choosing one of a few pre-made answers: riding a bike in little circles, sometimes by himself and sometimes with other people, eating (often ice cream), sleeping, going to work, and every so often traveling to (you guessed it!) ride bikes in circles.

               Long story short, I’ve had multiple documents started with attempts to restart this doomed collection of stories. Each starts off with me trying to be witty and creative in an effort to draw people in to read on about my repetitive life. So I’m going to spare you the cringe-worthy reading and boil down the main points throughout each half-started article into a rapid-fire timeline of the past months. A professor once told me to write in lists as this makes readers get the point faster… so here the point.

·        Upgraded to pro license at the beginning of the season.

·        Got my ass kicked in the first few races.

·        Learned gravel racing techniques (don’t pull the group the whole time).

·        Realized I probably belonged on the mountain bike side of things.

·        Figured out the real pros are incredibly fast and a lot stronger than I.

·        Continued to work my butt off.

·        Graduated college somewhere in there.

·        Figured out how to recover better.

·        Got a few decent results, reckoned I may be in the right category after all.

·        Went home to save money.

·        Danced around the pro podium for the Midwest circuit. (Never saw the top.)

·        Didn’t sleep enough.

·        Results dipped a bit… wasn’t happy with my performances.

·        Got all hippy and introspective: meditation, note-taking, sleep tracking… all that mumbo-jumbo.

·        Came to the grand realization I wasn’t sleeping enough.

·        Started sleeping more.

·        Began to feel better.

·        Results improved.

·        Confidence began to grow.

·        Got a couple wins under my belt.

·        Realized cyclocross racing for only an hour was nice.

·        Continued to dance around the CX podium (mainly in second this time).

·        Had way too much fun riding skinny tires over dirt and barriers.

·        Began to understand why starting in the front row is important.

·        Saw good performances.

·        Saw could’ve-been-better performances.

·        Wound down the season with the feeling that I’ve learned a lot, had great experiences, and hopefully gotten a bit better.

·        Started to get psyched for next season.

·        Ended the season with a bang… actually the sound of cracking carbon and a really sore thumb.

·        (Still finished the race, in third.)

·        Packed up everything I owned and moved to New Zealand.

Phew, that was way easier than writing all about the hardships, successes, failures, friendships, learning experiences, and introspective thinking. Yeah lists are nice.

From here on out the whole perseverance thing is going to try and make a comeback on the writing front. And now because of the last bullet point I have something slightly more interesting to ramble on about… because for some reason living my repetitive life of riding bikes in little circles is way cooler when it’s halfway around the world.