Pre-Eagleman 70.3 Check-In With Coach Mick
If you’ve been following me on here, you know that Coach Mick and I had been going through some bumpy times. Most of it spurred from threads of my approach being too fancy and thought out - gained habits he’s been trying to rip from me because he hates them. The great thing about Coach Mick is that he demands exact, fierce focus. And you have to not only be willing to hurt yourself, but you have to look forward to his sharpest days, which come often enough. All of this works for me. When things start to feel like a formula, I stop moving forward. Mick doesn’t believe in formulas. He believes in heart, and guts, and accountability. So far this year, I’m good with the direction we’re headed. He berates constantly, and often if not always asks for more than I can possibly give. But I’m good. Everything he is is all I demanded.
Mick: You tell me, Kid. You tell me about this Eagle…the Eagleman. I’m too old to go spellin’ it out for ya this time.
Me: Okay. I am going to warm up in water before I get to my bike. Then I’m going to put up the biggest ride I’ve ever put up in any race, ever.
Me: The last time I rode a flat course like this, I was faster than every amateur and pro in the field. But the winds were inconsistent, so I undercut that badge, told myself it was a fluke. Because I needed —
Mick: Ah, ah, ah. Jibber-jabber, Kid. I don’t got time to hear no jibber-jabber in my damn old ears! Don’t make me put you on the street again cause I will and won’t think twice about it!!
Me: No, please don’t. Look, I’m going to have more than I had in Galveston. If you put me back there this weekend, same conditions, I would ride a 2:01, not a 2:04. I know it. I feel it. I was a little tired. I was closer to my off-season low of 185 pounds. More frail. I’m 191 now and I feel like all 6 pounds have been stacked tight in my legs, and are waiting for my signal so they can wild out and start a fucking race riot!
Mick: Watch your mouth, Kid. I don’t like language like that.
Me: No wait, I mean fast riding. Not a race riot.
Mick: So what are ya tellin’ me all this for? What do you want me to do?
Me: If you’ve heard what I just said, then I’ve set a bar. That’s all I need. I’m starting to see where I might fit in this game. And I want a badge this time, or at least collect the one I left in Texas before I throw it under my bed and then start looking for new badges to chase, and undercut, all over again.
Mick: I hear ya, Kid. I hear ya.
Me: I’m gonna go. I’ll talk to you after.
Mick: Yeah yeah. Good luck then…. Wait, Kid. You’re gonna run, ain’t ya?!
Mick: No, in Kindegarten!!! Sunday!
Me: Don’t fall in the first 3. Don’t die in the last 10.
Mick: Smartest thing you said all day. Now get outta here.