Cycling for a Loss

By Thomas Lee

            As I whirled down the hill, I cornered on every berm and gained speed. I was as confident as the princess was with her golden ball in the Frog King. All of a sudden, I flew through the air like an angel, but I crashed down with the illusion. Groaning in pain, I thought, “I can’t move.” I panicked and tried to move again.  I lost my golden ball in that crash like princess lost hers: I no longer had my confidence.

            As I slowly made my way towards my team’s bus, my teammates mocked my pain. The more ashamed I felt, the deeper my golden ball sank into the thick mud of the single-track trail.

            After that day, I found myself wandering from place to place, never recovering my lost confidence. I wobbled side to side on my bike. Reminding me of my crash, my teammates tore me down brick by brick. Each time I lost more of my will to fight to improve until I slumped in the corner counting the days until biking was over. I still hadn’t found my golden ball, and at this rate I would never want to ride my bike again.   I lacked the drive and the ability to stay on the bike and generate the power I used to. ­­I know I needed to rebuild my confidence, to search for my golden ball, which I finally found,  muddy and decaying, where I left it the year previously.  It was in no condition to showcase, I held onto the shattered remains of my confidence.  

            I rode with that dirty ball tethered to my left hip while I sped down the hill. Unable to lean into a turn with aggression and determination, I went straight off the trail and into the tree, but I miraculously stayed on, clinging for dear life. Afterwards, my golden ball felt nicer, softer. It felt warm to the touch and I thought, “I got this.” The finger that hit the tree throbbed with pain and I was shaken to the bone, but my confidence didn’t drop. The golden ball was still there, and a little more mud had fallen off to reveal a bit of the gold.

            I was still a nervous wreck as I lined up at the start finish line for my race. Images flashed through my head. I saw, cuts, bruises, blood, broken bones, and ambulances. The images intensified and my ball turned as cold as ice, and I no longer wanted to race. I wanted to sit down. 
            “On your mark! Set! Go!” the caller screamed, and I was off to the first downhill. The faster I got on the downhill, the higher on the berms I rode until I slipped of the edge. I rubbed my skin raw on the leaves and twigs, but some more of the caked mud was scraped from and my ball. As the mud dropped off the ball, blood dropped from my smashed knee.  I kept crashing and sliding out on turns, still hesitating and shaking. I was still afraid of failure, embarrassment, and pain. Riding by myself I approached the infamous ‘six inch bridge’ on the perimeter trail. As I gingerly place my front tire on the bridge my rear tire slipped off the bank. Down I went into the stream. It took me awhile to emerge from the cold, life-sucking waters, but I did it with my ball intact. I rode back to my room like a defeated but proud warrior. The golden veneer started chipping away from the golden ball, but I could see new platinum shining through. My ball now more valuable than before.

 I began slowly climbing my way back to the top of the leader boards when the inevitable happened. I crashed just as I did the year previously, injuring my knee, eye, and both elbows, I could barely move with the cuts and the bruises that formed. Blood  dripped down my legs and arm. I was a wreck. A group of teenagers rushed to my aid and helped me up. They asked if I was fine and I responded, “Did any of y’all get that on video?” When they said no, I thanked them for helping me up and was off to finish.

 After the race, I still had all my confidence and more. I had a new-found respect for the course and the other racers. In the end I never fully regained my old golden ball, but I found something better, a platinum one. Unlike before, I now respect the course and I take everything seriously. I may have lost my early confidence, but I found humility and respect which can and should be applied to everything in life.