We've been in and around Durango, CO for a few days and playing gigs on only the rarest of occasions. So last night, I was hanging out in the beer garden at the local VFW, conveniently situated next to the city park where our concert was (and where I wrecked my car a couple of years back....err) where I met a great couple. The first was the stage manager for the Music in the Mountains Festival. His wife works at Ft. Lewis College as a web designer/publicist/etc in the music department and is involved in the festival as well. They're putting me in touch with the artistic director- a connection I wouldn't have made, were the daughter of the VFW post commander not hanging out in the beer garden with her husband... thanks!
Today was another day off from our tour so I meandered downtown to find lunch and a place to read. Things worked out perfectly, for I walked into Carver's Brewing Co. and was able to sit at the bar, eat, watch stage six of a different type of tour- the Tour de France, and read my book during the lengthy commercial breaks. First of all, the book I'm reading is great- Faces of Salsa: A Spoken History of the Music, by Leonardo Padura Fuentes, kindly translated by Stephen J. Clark. The book has short interviews with the most important names in the salsa movement of the middle 20th century through the book's publication date. The history of "salsa" music is just as misconstrued as jazz or any other musical phenomenon. Texts attempting to provide a generic history of music offer an incomplete picture. First person accounts relating to the time and place seem to provide more insight, and it's up to the reader to piece the information together and develop his or her own view of the history (in my humble opinion).
So I'm sitting in a bar in a town known for cycling, listening to commentary by Bob Roll, a guy the bartender knows personally, and watching the race with other people who actually understand the who,what, where, and why of bike racing. The experience brought back a flood of memories from my racing days- mostly the emotions I no longer access now that I've stopped competitive racing. As I sat there watching the race in my new character of anti-social tour person, always walking around alone and enjoying the time off, I was able to reflect on racing and what experiences were important to me. The following thoughts came to mind:
-Experiencing the feeling of being on the front of the race, feeling the energy of 99 other racers on your wheel, while leading through the wind provides an odd sort of adrenaline rush.
-The feeling of being near the back, coming out of turns, focusing on staying on the wheel in front of you without an ounce of energy spent on what's happening at the front... just trying to prevent a gap between you and the next wheel without blowing up.
-Balancing boredom with steady nerves and intensity.
-Attempting to read the feedback your body is giving (feed me, give me water, spin higher rpms, shift gears, loosen the shoes, take off the arm warmers, stop trying to kill me)
-Trying to stay patient when someone jumps off the front and you are forced to decide whether to follow the move, let someone else chase, or both.
-Always wondering if the move heading up the road is decisive or a waste of energy.
-Setting out for glory on your own before the final climb.
-Making ad hoc teammates in breaks, chase groups, or the lantern rouge (the dropped members of the field).
-Wondering if your teammates will ever repay you for the work you've done for them in a race.
-Hoping you grab your bottle in the feed zone, and if not, can you steal one at the end of the feed.
-Realizing the odds are 1 in 100 to win the race- there's always one winner and a lot of losers but always trying to keep that feeling alive that today can be your day.
-Trying to let go of the impending feeling of demise while on a 45+ mph descent in a pack of nervous riders.
-Avoiding fist fights while riding all out in the peloton when the bumping begins, especially along the barriers during crits.
-Always wondering if your legs/heart/lungs/brain can hold out for the finish line.
-Trying to select the best wheel to sit on for as long as possible.
-At the start of a race, wondering why everyone doesn't want to race bikes, only to question your own sanity for deciding to get into racing in the first place once the suffering begins.
I suppose these emotions may serve as metaphors for life, but during races, they become immediate- very present and very real. As a guy that pretty much just rides a fixed-gear around town instead of expensive road bikes with super light wheels and components (although, they are still in the garage), these emotions are rare, and do not translate well to a music career... or my music career. I've competed in music- concerto competitions, auditions, etc, but to me, the feelings are different, and I'm glad they are.
Back to the book...
J-
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