I am a big believer in the seasons of life. We all have sequences where things happen to us in cyclical ways. And I am not just talking about birthdays, anniversaries or holidays. I am talking about the less definite moments, feelings and vibrations which come rolling around year after year.
I have a couple of these signifiers, but the most reliable one is getting colds in February or March. Without fail, it chases me down and gets me as the window of winter starts to shut.
I thought I could maybe get away from it living here in sunny Arizona, which I have called home since August. Yet, Thursday morning as I woke up two days before what was my first gravel race of the year at BWR Arizona, I was a prisoner of the season once again with a sore throat, congestion clogging me up, and a quickly building sense of disappointment that it has happened again.
The cold built through Thursday and Friday morning was not much better. I went through as many cold medication options as I could, checked my temperature often, and monitored my lungs for a buildup of congestion. I skipped a ride Thursday and did an easy recon ride on Friday, keeping my power well below the normal pre-racing engine revving I like to do. Yet still heading to sleep Friday night before the race, I didn’t know if I would take to the start in the morning. Sickness, I have learned, is not something you can bully your way through in bike racing.
When the alarm rang at 5:00 AM Saturday, thankfully, I felt immediate relief. My symptoms weren’t worse, they were the same. That’s all I needed to take a stab at it. And oh boy, am I glad I did! In retrospect, BWR Arizona was a sick day for a sick day and it is the perfect building block for the season to come.
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