by Maghalie Rochette
Yesterday evening, as David and I were driving away from the Tabor cyclocross World Championships, I suddenly got hit with emotions. My eyes swell up with tears.
"Damn it! Didn’t I cry enough this season already? My race wasn’t even today…Why do I have to be so emotional?!”
What I felt inside, however, was warm and fuzzy. We had just spent the day watching the Women U23 race, David was working in the pits for team Canada while I spectated with the crew of Canadian Junior Women. My parents had been visiting in Czechia to support me in the race the day before and we had spent the morning with them. We had partied the night before with most of the Elite Women’s field. I executed a solid race that I felt proud of. What I felt inside, that warm and fuzzy feeling, was a deep love for this sport and community, mixed with a profound sense of gratitude.
I let the tears fill up my eyes and embraced the emotions.
Unique opportunity
I’ve mentioned before that the week before the World Championships is often one of my favorite weeks of the year. There is something incredibly special about approaching a moment you have been thinking about and preparing for for a long time. The accumulation of moments, good and hard, that lead to this event slowly culminate into this instant where your senses are being sharpened by nerves and anticipation, and your body is fired up and ready to let go of all this energy. There is nothing quite like it.
This week, I was especially aware of the unique opportunity that the World Championships represent. The event happens once a year, meaning that throughout your career, there won’t be that many World Championship races. Being an actor in one of these major events is a privilege, and I deeply felt the special honour brought by the occasion.
Now, after struggling a little bit in the last couple of months, I had finally experienced some glimpse of good performances in the last 2 races (Benidorm and Hoogerheide World Cups). The results had not been great, but parts of these two races had showed promise, so I knew that I had something good to give for the last race of the season. That said, if I wanted a shot at a good result, I had to put myself in the race from the start, and I had to minimize mistakes.
Preparation, Racing, Fighting
To be blunt, I had sucked at starts most season. I lacked the confidence and assertiveness required to squeeze your way through the peloton at 50km/h. So I spent the week absolutely obsessing over the start. I watched, analyzed, and studied starts from the Tabor World Cup of the last 5 years. I visualized myself pushing my way through over and over and over again. On the morning of our race, I brought the iPad in the camper van to watch and analyze the starts of the Junior Women and U23 Men racing before us. I eventually noticed some patterns, and figured out how I could make my way to the front from the second row.
The lights turned green and my preparation worked. I made my way to the front and by the flyover, I found myself in the top 5-6 women. YES! From there, I had to keep pressing, keep moving forward. The job wasn’t done, but I took a second to celebrate the fact that I was in the fight. The next few laps were a battle with Belgian Laura Verdonschot and I. We kept exchanging places in 6-7th place as we chased the 4th-5th place who were right within sight. The course was slow with heavy mud, and you had to fight for every meter out there…even in the downhills. I kept trudging along and fighting, making sure I stayed calm and composed through the waves of sound from the crowd. With 1,5 laps to go, I tripped on the stair case and struggled to get back on the bike smoothly on the uphill, loosing touch with Laura. At that point, I was already feeling a bit light headed from the effort, but kept fighting dreaming of what a top 5 at Worlds would mean to me. In the last half-lap, a group of 4 caught up to me, my energy tank was nearly empty but I didn’t want to give it to them easily. Some of them passed me. With 1 min to go in the race, I found myself in 11th, with 8-9-10th within seconds. David screamed at me that I could still get them. I pedaled as hard as I could and navigated the last muddy u-turn wide so I could keep my speed on the exit. 300m to go on the asphalt. I stood up and started sprinting…and then I saw my friend Helene Clauzel sat up. “OMG, I might actually get her”. I shifted an extra gear and went as hard as I could. I threw my bike on the line and cramped as I just crossed the line in front of her, snagging the last spot of the top 10.
The gift and the curse
I’m a dreamer. I have spent my whole life dreaming up lofty goals and getting to work to achieve them. I have the gift and the curse of believing that everything is possible. The gift of always wanting more out of myself, and the curse of feeling like what I achieve is never enough.
This season, which may have been the hardest of my life, may very much have been the most beautiful and most important season for me. Perhaps, this season taught me that the thing that brought me here is the same thing that won’t get me ‘there”. That this gift of wanting more got me here…but this curse of never feeling like I’m enough won’t get me where I want to be.
Perhaps, this is the season that I learned to be proud of myself for how I work, and not for what I accomplish. The year I learned hat comparison is the thief of joy. That compassion is so much more positive and conductive to good than judgment.
I crossed the line 10th place in the World, dizzy and with cramps in my legs. I had dreamed of more, of course. But all I felt was happiness and pride. I loved every second of that World Championship race. Truly, I loved the hard parts as much as the good moves I made, I loved the fight, the hype, the battles, the awareness. Just like my season, there were some highs and lows, and I think I can appreciate both equally.
It’s a privilege to be doing something hard. To have the luxury of dedicating my life to trying to achieve a goal in something that I care deeply about…it’s f*cking hard sometimes but that’s the beautiful part. And yet, it's also important to remember that as much as I care about it, it remains only a game! It’s a gift, and I am so grateful for it.
So thank you, cyclocross! Thanks for making me feel all these emotions.
The fever is still burning.
Thank you all for following along this season! THANK YOU to all my sponsors for supporting this crazy dream and this pursuit. Thank you to my parents for supporting every step of the way. Thank you to my competitors for making this sport so tough, for pushing me, and for being absolutely badass women. And the biggest thank you to David for literally everything. It’s truly special to live these adventures with him!
And now, we are off to see the Mia Dog and recover at home as we start plotting on how do we come back better next year ;)
Maghalie
Page mise en ligne par
Consultez notre ENCYCLOPÉDIE sportive
| nouvelles | achat & entretien | rouler au Québec | hors Québec | sécurité | course | cyclos | montagne | industrie | quoi d´autre ? |
.
.
.