Glory Days

I don’t want to brag….yes I do.  I just don’t want to seem like I am bragging….okay I don’t really care if I seem a little braggart like about this.  It may be well warranted.

I’ll let you decide.

There was a year of my life that I was a racer.   A racer.

Meaning I gave it my all to beat everyone else I was racing against.  Bicycle racing.  Some people, even those very close to me do not know that I was a racer.  I didn’t talk much about it.   But I feel I can now.   Maybe I would have seemed more like a braggart if I had been boasting all about myself when I was actually racing.

Now?  It’s just a fond memory I want to share.

I was going through some of my older pictures and I came across some of my racing photos.   It brought back some good times, with good people, albeit slower than me on a bike people.

See, the problem was, I was so invincible I had to accept some handicaps to make a more level playing field (track) for the other competitors.  I know?  Why make it easy for them?  Why not make them work harder?  That’s all right.  I accepted the handicaps they freely handed out to me and gave it my all.   I didn’t mind working harder!

The handicaps:

1.  I could not wear a helmet (I guess they thought if I crashed and busted my head it would help the other riders.)

2.  I had to wear tennis shoes and could not use my clipless pedals with shoes designed to increase power on the upstroke.

3.  I had to ride a bike of their choosing.  I was not permitted to ride any of my own bikes.

You must wonder, am I that good?

Well.  They must have thought so.

Of course I didn’t win!

I was robbed!