My Name Is...

It's not what you think when you look at me lately.

It may begin with the same letter, but you have me confused.

I am not defined by that thing that you have rolling around in your head.

It is no big f*cking deal that I am riding a bike.

...or racing a bike.

...or walking upright.

I may lay in a fetal position for a while...

It may take a while for my body to stop twitching...

But I will get up...

The day I don't is the day you will light me on fire and put my ashes in an urn.

I'm just a girl with a bike who figured out that she likes to race.

It doesn't matter that I suck.

I'm doing what makes me happy.

Even when I suck.

I don't suck because of that word you have rolling around in your head.

I suck because racing is new to me and I don't train properly...or enough.

I suck because I am not properly nourished and I don't get enough sleep.

I still ride more than a lot of people I know and want to scream when those people look at me with pity.

Why?

I'm not dead. I don't have a third (or even a second) head. I'm not completely unfortunate looking or illiterate.

Those things demand pity.

I'm out there living a helluva life on my bike surrounded by my amazing children and fantastic friends.

Pity me?

I think not.

I bombed this weekend. Sure. I know.

I have no regrets about taking part in those races.

I was sick (and sleepy) and missed my first race of the day on Saturday.

So what.

Part of the problem was that I got in my head that my race went off a half hour later than it did.

Oh well. My bad.

I volunteered all day out in the hot sun on my feet from 8am until after the Pro-1, 2's race that afternoon and then drove to my time trial.

Stupid.

It was stupidity, not cancer that tanked my time trial.

...and likely a little sun poisoning.

I completed my time trial.

I did it.

I didn't stop to puke.

I didn't cry.

Sure, I cursed the wind in that last mile and a half like no other and said things that surely reserved my place in Hell, but I finished...upright.

I didn't die.

I wasn't spectacular.

I was a girl in her second time trial who succeeded in doing the one thing I had set out to do.

I had committed to staying in my aero bars the whole time, regardless of wind, and I did.

*WOOP! WOOP!*

Sure, I screamed like a child when my bike blew sideways, but I stayed upright...and pedaled.

I didn't poo or pee my pants.

I awoke the next morning and knew I shouldn't race.

I rolled out of bed and dragged my sorry ass to the velo wagon and drove to my race as the sun came up.

I imagine plenty of people were doing the same.

I wasn't special.

I was simply sunburned and exhausted.

I felt like tiny trolls had beaten me with rolling pins while I slept.

I was moving slowly.

Painfully.

Even as I pinned my race bib onto my jersey, I knew I should simply sit this one out.

I knew the course and rode it often.

In my mind, it should have been cake.

After one roll around the course that morning, I knew it would not be a good day for me.

Stupidity made me roll up to the line.

I had cement in my shoes as the whistle blew and sneered as that one chick took off.

*DAMMIT!*

Now we have to chase her!!!

*YAWN*

I remember looking over at Steph, both of us wishing we were home in our beds next to our men instead of having to chase some chick who warmed up properly around the course.

I knew what we had to do.

I looked over at Kaboom and said, "Get her, Maura!"

There!

Done!

That'll teach that little wisp of energy to pull that nonsense first thing in the morning.

I felt like a 5 year old as I sung in my head, "Maura's gonna kick your ass now, girlie! la la la la la.."

We chased them around the course and were a *weeeeee* bit off the back.

I attempted a bridge on my favorite part of the course and was about 2 bike lengths from completing it, when a sucky thing happened...

I went to stand and my legs gave way.

Hmmmm...

That should have been cake.

I'm a stander.

I stand.

It's what I do.

My legs laughed at me.

My eyes were huge with shock and panic as I willed myself up and over the line and considered taking a nap at the Dogfish tent as I rolled by.

Steph said, "So are you ready to do 8 laps in the park with me this morning?"

I attempted something that was supposed to resemble a laugh, but I think even she knew it was not.

My mind went blank.

All I felt was pain for the next lap and knew I was done.

There's pushing through the pain and then there's just plain stupid.

For me to continue would mean bad things for me and my body.

Like a dog who knows it's days of fun are numbered, I quietly rolled to the grassy side of my car and laid down on the grass.

My body in knots.

My muscles twitching.

My breathing challenged.

I was told my eyes were rolling (and hope there is no pictorial evidence of such beauty).

I was freezing.

I was sweating.

I felt my hair standing up and neck stiffened.

*Not today. Not today. Not today.*

I was being swallowed.

Sounds were far away.

With a little help from Patrick and Traci, my body got it together.

I started to hear things again.

I shivered under my down blanket.

It was 80 degrees out.

My stomach raged its fury.

I sat for most of the day...shivering.

I eventually got my legs back.

At least enough to jump up and cheer when Jay attacked from the back of the pack like a friggin' badass...and then attacked again right after it!

This is what it's all about.

Some days I wish I could change it back and not want to race.

I was that way last year, but something snapped in me (psychocross?) and I can't unsnap it...

...and I don't really want to.

When you see me sucking, remember I am just a girl with a bike...

...and my name is Cory.

Not:

• "Poor Cory", or
• "Cory has Cancer", or
• "Such a Shame" (what am I a race horse?!?!), or
• "Ughhh" (I think my ex-husband still uses this one, but he has his reasons...)

Just "Cory".

...or "Ty's and Sassy's" mom, but only if you have children who know my children and we have not personally met, after that, my name is Cory.

I know it's a four letter word, but it's the one that's here to stay, so practice it.