I lost it at Gloucester.
I felt a gentle swell in Rochester, pushed myself up, steadied myself on a metaphorical surf board at KMC. In Baltimore I started to lose my sense of balance. So then the uninitiated surfer arrives at Stage Fort Park on the North Shore of Massachusetts. I’m uncomfortable riding at speed (but I’ve practiced!). I’m afraid of off-cambers (again, I’ve practiced!). I start freaking out when the pace picks up (but I’ve been training!).
My mind is not in the game for the whole race, both days. I don’t see the good lines so I can’t take them.
It’s good to have terrible races so that you can wake up on a sunny Wednesday and change the approach. I’ll exorcise the demons. I’ll take the time to sleep, heal, and get ready for the next time I line up. Today I go back to the forest for practice with my friends. I’ll refine my process, I’ll play, and I’ll learn.