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!
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!