Aggression vs Assertion

Wharton climbing Mt. Locke Stage 1 Ft. Davis Stage Race

Well, it’s over. My A#1 priority race is come and gone, and I can’t be more discouraged. My results were awful. My watts in crucial areas were down significantly. I raced with severe, bald passion and aggression, for naught, and I mean naught. The only good thing to come out of the races was a good time trial, and a resolve to never embarrass myself or my teammates like that again.

Here’s the thing though, I can’t help myself! In the 16 mile uphill, I launched an attack that only one rider was able to match. He held on in the hills. I got caught and finished 3:30 behind him. Today, I soloed off the front, got 1-2 minutes up in a crucial part of the course, but got caught, swallowed, and eventually spit out the back on the one freaking hill that I knew was going to be troublesome.

I was ready. I was prepared. I trained within my limitations for time and intensity, and got nothing, absolutely nothing for it. My teammates helped, they were great, and I just feel like I let them down, as well as myself. So, so frustrating.

I don’t know if I want to continue doing this. The frustration factor is high, the cost is high, and the results are far too fleeting. The intrinsic reward for knowing I ‘did my best’ is now permanently shadowed by the lack of extrinsic results. I’ve never felt so compelled to cheat or bribe my way to a win, though the shame of that would be worse than the crappy results I’ve been earning this calendar year. Last year, I was SO hopeful! This year, just supreme frustration. I pretty much hate racing right now.


1 Response to “Aggression vs Assertion”

  1. 2010/04/11 at 9:44 pm

    I need to emphasize that I will not, would not, ever cheat. The urge to do well is huge, but not at the cost of my conscience. However, if the extrinsic results (thanks, Dr. Orlick) don’t start showing soon, well, I might as well take up something else, like tennis or golf. I feel like the races are more like betting on a single number at the roulette wheel. I keep coming up a loser, even though I stay at the table longer than anyone else. The casinos love me, but it’s my self-esteem that keeps getting bashed. No honor in that, eh?

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