i'm not crying, you're crying
I typically don’t consider myself A Crier. And yet, over the past 4 days, I’ve cried at least once a day.
The first cry (Thursday): a result of exhaustion following a long travel day (driving ~6.5 hours from Austin, TX to Stillwater, OK).
The second cry (Friday): a result of anxiety leading into the second-longest bike race I’ve ever attempted.
The third cry (Saturday): a result of joy. Relief. More exhaustion. And love. I had just ridden 100 miles across a landscape consisting of gravel, clay, sand, rocks, rain ruts, mud, and even a river.
As I crossed the finish line, the first person I looked for was my boyfriend, Curtis. No sooner had I unclipped and dismounted from my bike than was he standing right in front of me. Curtis wrapped me up in just in time for all of my emotions to spill over to tears – which, in addition to the sweat, snot, and dirt already all over my body, got all over him.
The only words I remember being able to spit out in that moment were, “we did it, we did it, WE DID IT!” And as I said them, Curtis squeezed me even harder.
The forth cry (Sunday): a result of pride. The day after the race, I asked Curtis if he’d had time to reflect on his experience. As he began to answer my question, I felt my eyes beginning to water. Not only was I proud of him (TLDR: he performed exceptionally well and finished in the Top 50 in a field of over 1,300 competitors!!!), but proud of myself. And proud of both of us for throwing ourselves into something so unique (alternative word: crazy) together.
Pride is something the competitive, results-oriented, perfectionist in me often prevents because more times than not, I’m thinking about how I could been better. Been faster. Been stronger. Been smarter. Been less in my head.
These types of thoughts haunted me during my collegiate athletic career, and for many years after. Even now when I look back on those five years, I sometimes have a difficult time finding any sense of pride.
Saturday was different. After one of the most mentally-and-physically-draining competitions I’ve ever completed, I didn’t immediately dive into my time splits. Or how I placed amongst the other riders. Or re-thought my training plan leading up to the race. I simply left it all on the floor (or I guess, ‘course?’) and embraced the pride still pulsing inside of me after crossing the finish line.
