“Are you OK? Are you hurt? Are you going to be able to finish mid pack?”
It didn’t hurt until that mid pack comment. This searing message, this heckle, was from my lovey wife of 10 years when I vocalized my discomfort after a folding chair fell on my ankle. My ire was up, but I knew this message was delivered to toughen me up.
The art of the heckle needs to be saved for another time. It is the intent of the heckle I’m fascinated with at the moment.
Pic: J Fairman
After spending a 10 days off the bike and arriving jet lagged and sleepy, I wasn’t sure how my race at Sunrise Park was going to go. “Riders ready!” No. I was racing in reverse and many of the friendly, positive voices I’m used to hearing at the races had started to sour and get nasty, and where clearly targeted at my meek performance. Then at the beginning of the last lap, the CCC‘s Jason Knauff broke my back with a loud, salty, “You call your self a bike racer?!” Presto. I was up out of the saddle, finally awake, and racing. I made six passes on my last lap and squeezed my way into the mid pack.
I’m confident it was all the teasing, the heckling, being called out by friends that really motivated me to dig deep. Hemme and I talked about all the excuses people [like me] make related to “I’m just out there to have fun,” but it’s important to remember where out there having fun racing. The person in front of you is the target, it’s racing, you need to want to beat them – and many times hecklers are the accelerant required.
Must you know your heckler to take the motivational intent to heart? Can positive heckling get you as motivated as a good verbal kick in the shin? Either way I love it, and the crowds that line the races in Chicago are expert hecklers.
Thanks a lot, Knauff..
LOOK ITS ME!!!
I’m ok with the fact that I probably never finish in the top 10. But in order to keep myself motivated I pick out a couple people in the field to race against. Or, give myself goals during the race, like taking back 3 spots or dropping another rider. Even if it means coming in second to last it still gives me sense of purpose out there. If we were all just racing for “fun”, there would be no race. Save the fun for after the race, turn yourself inside out in the meantime.
My favorite subject.
I am “out there to just have fun”.
I have fun making someone work for a pass even if it’s inevitable.
I have fun pointing out to other racers that if they actually finish behind me they truly do suck.
I have fun pinning a number on, lining up, joking with friends, and then secretly feeling like you’re going to puke from the nerves and the all too perfect knowledge of the pain that is about to come on.
I have fun listening to everyone heckle me, knowing that they know me…knowing that they know each comment is supportive, but also a little stinging almost like saying – “Hey Rob, you’ve gotten fat and you’re racing poorly. Really….seriously…do something about it.”
I have fun feeling that little death right after the finish.
I have fun “racing”.
After all – without “racing” it simply a ride in a park.