I don’t have a cycling coach. For Death Valley, I trained with friends and with a few experts I trusted, but I never had a coach. JDRF offers coaches, but I never used one because I thought I didn’t need one. All I needed to know about cycling, I thought I could learn on my own. I was wrong. Coaches are absolutely vital.
I didn’t go into this thing completely half-cocked. I did my due diligence. As a journalist, much of my time is spent researching and this endeavor was no different. I bought books and sat in the floor of Barnes & Noble for hours pilfering through different resources. I Googled and read article after article online. I talked to my bike mechanic. A lot. And I even bookmarked a few sites including, dare I say, livestrong.com. But all my research fell flat when it came time for the real deal. Why? Because so much of this cycling thing is mental. And mental can’t be taught from a book.
Twice in Death Valley, I think I would’ve quit without the help of coaches — two in particular. And without the help of another coach, I think I would’ve died from breathing in the heat. Coach Ian helped me pace, somewhere between Badwater and the next rest stop. He gently encouraged me and when I fell behind, he dropped back to ride with me. He made sure I was OK physically and when I threw up (what I think was my most recent) Clif Bar, he leveled with me on what was reality. At that point, I decided to SAG nine miles and finish the last 10 on my own accord. I don’t regret that decision one bit, and I probably wouldn’t have crossed the finish line on my bike if I hadn’t listened to his wisdom.
And then there was Coach Dan. We all know about the power of Dan from Wisconsin. (And if you don’t, you can read about him here). He came along at the perfect moment, and I’m not sure I would’ve made it the last two miles without him. Seriously. He was an answer to prayer. And when I was choking on desert dirt (because there are no trees in the desert, therefore oxygen is in short supply), Coach Steve reminded me how to breathe. Throughout the ride, I breathed in deep through my nose and slowly, the aching in my chest from all the glass-laced devil’s clay, excuse me, I mean dirt, finally subsided.
Without these guys, my Death Valley ride would’ve been vastly different.
I went into this thinking coaches weren’t needed. I mean, what did they know I couldn’t find myself? And while I did my homework on cycling, I didn’t do it on JDRF coaches. I didn’t know some of these guys were diabetics themselves. Nor did I know many of them have been doing JDRF rides for more than a decade. I also didn’t know they were USA Cycling-certified. I flippantly and mistakenly shrugged off the help as if I was too good for it. But as usual, humility brought me to my knees because these guys matter. They are vital, especially to beginners. While I’m technically not a beginner after that stinking desert kicked my butt, I am still a newbie. And next year, this newbie is taking advantage of the JDRF coaches.
They matter, and I am sorry I didn’t know that before Death Valley. So if any of those fantastic coaching folks read this, know how appreciated you truly are! We couldn’t do it without you!
Thank you.