Winning the Race

No, this isn’t about that guy I chicked—and then chicked again. I’m not usually a competitive rider, after all.

Except I am, I realized, in three ways.

The first is the little races I have with myself. I’m not really tracking closely, mind you, but I look at my cyclometer every morning when I get to work. The cyclometer (think “odometer on a bike”) doesn’t track total elapsed time—it tracks pedaling time plus mileage.

When I look at the numbers, I compare how much time it took me that particular day as compared with what I think of as the average time, which is around nine minutes, maybe nine and a half. On a day with a strong headwind I get slowed down. Yesterday morning, to my surprise, I did the ride in 8:17 without really trying to hurry. (After all, I don’t want to sweat on my way to work.)

The second competition is between biking time and driving time. I don’t often get to go head to head with a driver heading to the same destination. But my boss now jokes, if we’re both leaving for a downtown meeting, that I’ll beat him there.

He’s right. He’ll walk to the parking lot, drive his SUV, park it somewhere, and have to walk to the meeting. I’ll ride point to point and hitch to the rack or a sign outside whatever building we’re heading to. Voilá! I win.

The third way I’m in a race is the similarity I’m guessing at between riding in traffic and riding in the peloton.

Not that I’ve ever been in a peloton, mind you (that long line of guys who sort of keep up with Lance Armstrong and Alberto Contador and all the rest, if you’ve ever watched the Tour). I thought I might race for real, trained one winter, got really, really sick in the spring, and never rode in a race.

So I can only go off the descriptions Sweet Hubs shares of what it’s like to ride in the local races organized by Spokane Rocket Velo and Baddlands, and what I’ve seen of the races when I volunteer at the check-in or as a course driver.

When I sprint through traffic—when I look over my shoulder to gauge how close that person behind me is (in a car) to see if I have time to make my move—when I ride in a pack all streaming through a turn (with the rest of them in vehicles, of course)—when I have to slow down on the climb and I know the person behind me has (ahem) more gas in the tank and therefore can go faster and will pass me—I’m racing. Politely, of course.

And I win every time. Because I’m racing for fun.

One of my "racing" outfits: Sugoi HOV bike pants (no longer available--the quest continues!); Smart Wool tops (two for warmth on a cold day), a long sweater (which I tie around my waist when I ride), Ann Taylor short boots (cute and practical for riding and walking). Indoor parking courtesy of the Spokane Regional Transportation Council.

Related Reading

Your Turn

  • Do you race when you ride?
  • What constitutes “winning”?
Sharing is karma--pass it along!

Tags: , ,

5 Comments to "Winning the Race"

  1. Annie Chermak says:

    Barb, you look great! So really, that hair was under a helmet? Wouldn’t have known! I’m not competitive with others at all, but I definitely am constantly trying to beat my own best in many aspects of my life!

  2. […] you accomplish the same number of miles in a shorter time after a while (kind of like my little race with myself on my ride to work). Maybe you ride more miles. Maybe you ride more days in a week, or a month, or the […]

  3. […] why: My ride to work is a hair under 2.5 miles, which takes me around 9 minutes of pedaling (under 9 if I “race”). If I don’t run any errands or go to meetings and ride home at the end of the day, I’ve done […]

  4. […] quick little ride to work, sprinting because I was going to be late to a meeting and beating my “race time” by at least 30 […]

  5. […] to stay in front of someone or watching someone’s back pull away from me, there’s this teensy-weensy competitive voice that makes me pedal just a little bit faster. And no matter what happens the rest of the day to […]

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

The quest for the intersection of Style and Comfort