Lee Waldman: Riding the Waves of Cyclocross and Life

Lee Waldman returns with some thoughts on dealing with changes, both in sport and as a person

I was asked once whether I’d ever stop racing cyclocross. At the time, I was dating the woman who asked that question. After she asked, we stopped dating. I just could not, for the life of me, visualize spending any time with someone who understood so little about me. About my commitment to a sport that I’d clearly fallen in love with.

My two daughters ask me the same question every time a mishap on the bike has sent me to the hospital. They asked after my hamstring tears and again after the hit and run that left me with a broken neck among other injuries, the latter of which was an incident that had an impact on my whole family. Each time I’ve had to explain to them that they wouldn’t want to be around me if I listened to their pleas and quit racing.

As Lyle Lovett so clearly put it, “If I were the man that you wanted, I would not be the man that I am.” I’ve never forgotten the questions, but I have put a significant amount of time and energy into seeking answers.

The simple answer is that I’ll stop racing when it ceases to be fun. I’ll stop when I’m no longer physically able to do the things cyclocross requires.

As I age, I feel the effects of hard racing and training in ways I could ignore or at least muscle through when I was younger. My lower back and hips talk to me all the time these days. I choose to ignore what they are telling me, but it’s getting increasingly more difficult.

As I write this, the tightness in my right IT band is forcing me to stand with all my weight on my left leg. Not a bad exercise for balance. Yet another reminder that I’m older.

The Waves of Cyclocross and Life

I’ve begun looking at life the way a surfer might look at a set of waves building off the shore. Each wave has a unique personality. Each one will require a different approach to ride it well. It occurs to me that life is similar to those waves. It presents us with a continually changing landscape.

We spend our lives riding waves of experience. Each one is different, each one brings change; each one forces us to change direction. Or each one presents the opportunity to change direction. It’s all a matter of perspective.

Cyclocross requires the same type of recognition and response—that’s one of the beauties of the sport.

Courses change from lap to lap, just like waves change the ocean’s surface. To survive in the water or on the ‘cross course, it’s critical to be able to respond, realizing that those waves of change require us to find a new direction. Lines through turns change continually, the dirt itself changes from one lap to the next.

To be successful we need to accept that process of change and use it to our advantage. How boring would cyclocross be if every lap was a carbon copy of the previous one?

I have the privilege of writing these columns from the perspective of a Masters cyclocross rider. After racing for 43 years I’ve learned my lessons the hard way – one loss, one fall at a time.

One of the lessons that I’ve learned has to do with accepting the concept that change opens the door to travel in a new direction. Robert Frost was correct. Choosing to follow one road over the other makes all the difference.

I still love racing cyclocross. It’s a passion that I share with all of you who are giving up training time to read this. But the change that comes with age also means that I have to recognize that my racing and training will have to switch direction. I’ve had to change the way I train, the way I race, and the expectations I have for both.

I’ve had to accept the fact that I can’t train as hard, as often as I could when I was younger. When I ignore my body’s warnings and push through, I am left tired, unmotivated, and wondering why I still race. My body simply revolts when I ignore its warnings. That is not a recipe for successful training rides let alone good racing.

Rest has become much, much more important for me. I used to believe that I was special and didn’t need rest days or off weeks. I certainly do, which is another lesson I’ve had to learn—and re-learn—the hard way. I'm currently digging myself out of that very familiar hole giving credence to the adage that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. But, I’m trying.

My goal, yes we all need goals, is to keep racing well into my 80s. I’ll need luck and good health to do that. Life is changing for me as it does for all of us as we age. The road I’ll need to choose to accomplish my goals is the one that accepts that change and then embraces that new direction.

As the waves of cyclocross and life ebb and flow, how will you deal with change?

While you consider that, it’s time to stop reading and go for a ride.