Sophomore Slump

I wrapped up year two of my belated cycling career on Thursday night. The first, and only, race of the night was a Bavarian, a "backwards" win-and-out, where the first sprint is for 5th place, two laps later you race for 4th place, and so on until the first place sprint. If you wait to race for 1st and don't win the sprint, you get "no place". Which is what I did, but it was fun. Adam Bergman, former pro roadie, was back for the last night of the season, still racing as a 3 at the velodrome. No idea why I thought I'd duke it out for 1st with him, but I stayed in. It's the event that I won my first track race in last year, so I felt like I should go for it. Then I couldn't get around a rider that Adam and Chris Smith had just overtaken (and who almost rode Chris onto the apron) during the last lap, so I ended up 15 meters back with less than 100 meters to go. So I didn't end up with a maximum effort, which I sort of wanted to for the final night of the year, but what do you do.

I almost didn't race, and I ended up leaving after the Bavarian anyway. I am bushed. Fatigued. Tired. Dare I say, not interested in racing. It's been an interesting Sophomore year. I actually accomplished many of my goals, in spite of the fact I only raced 3 races on the road (not counting 2 weeks at Opus) and under 10 nights at the track. I won Ken Woods. I was very well positioned for Pearl Lake prior to my off-road excursion. I got my Cat. 3 upgrade at the track. And overall, I was faster, stronger, smarter (usually) and had noticeably more endurance than 2005. So why did it feel like such a bummer of a season?

I truly believe there is something to the Sophomore slump idea. I remember my 2nd years of both High School and College sucking. You're not new anymore, but you really don't have the whole thing down yet. Look at your favorite musicians. Did any of them have 2nd albums that were anywhere near as good as the first, or the 3rd for that matter? You work just as hard, or harder to get better, to do better than you did your first year, but you are smacked between the eyes by a combination of unrealistic expectations created by a successful first year (oh, yeah! Moving the next step on should be just as easy as smacking it the first year!) and the fact that you are in fact stronger, smarter, faster than you were your first year. But all the rules change. The competition changes. It's no longer about competing with everyone else who's out there for their first time. Now you're competing against everyone who ISN'T out there for their first time, which of course is a much larger, tougher, faster, smarter, more experienced group.

More than anything, I think I over trained. Partly I got burnt out from training all the way through winter without a significant break last fall, but also bike racing began to take it's rightful place in my life, properly balanced with other priorities. The first year was so engrossing that it ruled my thoughts and time. Now it's becoming a more normal part of my life. But what's odd about that realization is that as I think about next year's goals, I discover they are higher. As if I'd had a great season and I was building on my success, and in a way I am. My goals are around track, with some focus on road time trials. I'll race the road races with the 35+ crowd, which may mean I'm pack fodder, but I consider them low priority races anyway. And I'm ampped about next year. But for now, every time I think "Gee, I should really do a training ride," I know I shouldn't. And I don't. I haven't ridden with my heart rate monitor for 2 weeks. It's staying off until Thanksgiving, when the madness starts again. I'll ski more. I'll get my century in this fall. I'll do some Madison training and make my legs and lungs scream for mercy a couple more times this fall.

Junior year was WAY better.