Knowing when to say when

Going back to racing when you haven’t raced in a year is demoralizing. Racing with a category above yours is a whole other level.

Granted, I’ve set some expectations: I won’t be competitive at all. And maybe that’s defeatist, but I’m not going to get my hopes up either just to be let down. As a B racer who hasn’t been racing for a year, racing in the A’s on Zwift, it’s almost comical how not-to-my-par I’m doing.

I’m three races into the WTRL Zwift Racing League and we just raced the team time trial. I joked to Chris that I don’t like team sports and I like doing things on my own, which isn’t far from the truth, but no one wants to admit they aren’t a “team player.” Which I’m not admitting to by the way — I can work with others when duty calls, like Tuesday’s race.

I pulled when it was my turn, I listened to the instructions, and I kept myself on mute when I wasn’t talking because no one wants to hear the fan blowing air at me or my labored breaths or whatever the fuck I’m tinkering with.

As we’re warming up for the race, waiting for our time to go, Zeina, our directeur sportif, tells us to take 30-second pulls at 270 watts. Immediately — actually, even before the race — I doubt my ability to help the team. They’re all A’s and have been racing while I’ve been dealing with my health bullshit.