Confessions of an Absentee Racer
Photo by Mike Torres
Whenever someone points out how very few Pros attend local races nowadays--and on our message board, this has been pointed out a lot lately--I feel a little guilty. This is because I used to complain about this too...back before I stopped racing myself.
My decision to cut back on racing--the main part of it, at least--came in 2007 when I concussed myself at a race at the Fallon Fairgrounds. It was my seventh lifetime concussion, and I had told myself after my sixth, which happened in Carson in 2005, that I would quit racing if I had another.
So when I crashed at Fallon, the thought that this would be last race was already in my mind as I idled my bike toward the pits. That night, I drove home with a broken collarbone and a headache. Yet my mind was occupied not by the pain, but by the thought that this could be my last drive home from a race that I had competed in. This thought, combined with the eerie emptiness of Highway 95 at 1 a.m., made it one of the most uneasy drives of my life.
But although it made sense for me to quit at that point, I did race a handful of times after that. Still, I knew after each race that I needed to wind things down, and my mind slowly came to accept this. After a few relapses, I eventually came to a point where I was still riding, but no longer racing. It seemed like a happy medium: keep your bike and enjoy riding it, but stay away from situations that might tempt you to push it.
But it's times like these--times in which people are wondering where all the old Pros are, imploring racers to come out and re-join a race scene that's again starting to flourish--that I begin to get ancy. Despite my past injuries, despite the fact that I am woefully unprepared to be competitive, despite the fact that I have found happiness with a narrowly less dangerous form of racing (mountain bikes,) I still want to do that old routine: wash the bike, pack the gear, get up early, line up to race. I miss it.
I also want to point out, whenever the message board protests pop up, that I walked the walk for quite awhile: between 2001 and 2006, I raced a lot of Pro races. In fact, I scarcely missed a local race in some of those years, and while I was rarely the fastest guy on the line, I did win a lot of local championships--simply because I just kept coming to the races every week while all the faster guys were out chasing bigger purses elsewhere.
But I am almost certainly being vain in assuming that anyone is thinking of me personally as they make these complaints. The truth is, most local guys who've been in the sport for less than three years just think I'm some web guy, and most likely a hack rider who would just embarrass himself on a racetrack (the joke's on them: I'm barely qualified to run a web site, but I still ride OK.) And anyone who's been around for longer than that might remember the healthy amount of racing I've done and maybe even give me a pass for not doing it anymore.
All that said, my anxiety isn't really about what anyone else thinks. It's more about my memories, and my desire to be back in a place where I could feel at ease about going to race. I'd like to get back to that place, but I'm not sure if I will. Racing just isn't as fun when you're constantly worrying whether you're doing a sensible thing for your health and family.
But this is where it gets awkward. When I began writing this, I expected to end it with some sort of statement about how I'm at peace with not racing. But somehow, in just the last few minutes, I've nearly talked myself into thinking I should race again.
Maybe it's just too late at night, and in the morning I'll be back to sensible thinking. But in any case, if you're a Pro who isn't beset with worries about concussions, children or mortgages, I suggest you go out and race. It's definitely what I would do if I were you.
