Impressions; Thank you.

 My first smile after the fear was gone. © Katrin Stöhr

Oh no, more than one post a month, no good! Waking up at 4:40am and not falling asleep after an exhausting weekend because my brain is exploding with thoughts, no good either. This huge overflow of thoughts made my fingers so eager to hit the keyboard that I already have to get everything out.

Yesterday, the last race of the iXS German Downhill Cup took place. Not the last race of my season, but the last race of the big season. 

I hinted in my last post that right now is not the ideal time for the relationship between me and my bike. Even if writing down that my doubts are caused by irrational emotions and that none of them are necessary helped me a lot, I still struggle hard to withdraw myself from them. 

The good news is, I finally finished one race, the race yesterday. The bad news is, I'm back to zero. Back to where I was when everything started. And I think it's time for me, to write it out.

The thing with my overthinking comes with a lot of self-consciousness and self-doubt, which is not really a good combination. The older I get, the better I deal with it, I do my best to be a better person every day and work on myself as hard as I can. I grew a lot of tolerance towards myself which also led to a big tolerance towards everything and everybody else around me which in turn led to a kind of inner peace. 

But then there is this thing with riding. 

I clearly remember the moment eight (!) years ago, when my hands touched the bars of a Mountainbike for the first time and I felt that I finally found my missing piece.
One week later I broke my collarbone for the first time. 

These two moments are the best representatives of all the eight years on my bike: Heaven and Hell.

And when I think about it right now, I honestly have no answer why I kept riding back then. The only thing I remember is the ridiculous amount of effort I gave to keep riding. It just meant everything to me. My several injuries and surgeries in my first years led to a lot of headwinds, especially in my family. My passion got judged as a phase of puberty, as a rebellion against my parents, as a stupid mood that would go away, I was basically ridiculed every day. In school, I was the weirdo wearing boxer shorts under her pants who only had one topic to talk about: her bike. (I still love you guys, HOPE!)
Also under my riding-friends, I was the clumsy, half-assed bitch who constantly broke her collarbone. 

But when I sat on my bike, put my feet on the pedal and did the first pedal strokes, nothing mattered anymore. Every single time I thought everything was worth it. Heaven and Hell.

The hardest thing for me was and still is hurting my mom. She always suffered under a huge amount of sorrow every time I went out with my bike. I started lying a lot, telling I would to something else instead of riding, I hid every bruise and I even tried to hide my second fracture. I didn't want her to worry but I couldn't quit either. Heaven and Hell. 

Someday we found a way, I took care and my mom started tolerating it and I got used to being completely alone and without any support, I myself was my biggest fan. Just me and my bike.

But there were always periods where all the wounds and fights forced me on my knees, when standing against the constant headwind got exhausting. I wanted to quit so often. These moments when I realized that I don't make any progress, that everything I did bored me. But I also was too scared to take the next step. This was usually the moment when I changed the discipline which only helped for a certain period of time. I basically ran away. In combination with my deliberation, this mindset developed into a control issue over the years. Every step forward was a potential danger. 

All of this was meant to change when I first met the people who I am allowed to call my loveliest friends now. When my last boyfriend (I don't like the word 'ex') and I went on our first bike trip together in Lac Blanc, I met this his friends, this huge crowd of crazy people, and they welcomed me so warmly. The moment when all of them waited for me at the chairlift and waved at me was the BEST thing ever, nobody did that for me before. We rode the whole day together in our big group and I was never this happy on my bike. But not only them, also my boyfriend was patient and supportive, showing me lines and techniques and acting SO cute when he asked if it was ok to ride without me. Unconditional support for the first time and I finally realized how much I needed that. Half a year later I moved to the town where all this lovely people live, my boyfriend wasn't my boyfriend anymore but the happiness stayed. I felt welcome. And at home. So amazing!

Hometrails absurfen von Prezi - Mehr Mountainbike-Videos

I finally found the courage to move forward, I got faster and better on the bike, I started to reach my dream to ride the way I knew I could. Because there was a handful of people who believed in me. Even my mom was proud of me, showing around pictures of me riding and making them her screensaver. I felt (and still feel) so incredibly blessed.

I even got so cocky that I wanted to start racing again, so I registered for some races.

And as if I wasn't lucky enough, already on the first race this year I found my "racing-family", a handful of amazing people who took me under their wing. Also with incredible, unconditional support. (Coffee in the morning, cooking dinner, fixing my bike, packing my stuff, bathing in rivers, taking pictures of me...Thank you so, so much.) I really struggle to find the right words to describe the gratefulness I feel every day.

©extreme-pics.de / Benjamin Prescher

So, where are we now? I finished one of four races, I crashed countless times, I was shaken with fear over the last few weeks, all of my progress is gone. How did that happen? I got pushed back into my headwind-tunnel and I immediately ate shit, helpless without my safety-cushions.

Because even with the greatest amount of support and love, change doesn't come overnight. 

For me, every ride is a fight. I have good days when I can turn off my head and I have the days when I burst into tears because I feel the blockage coming up, which are actually the most days. 

I take this baggage on every ride with me and to be honest, I don't know how to get rid of it.

© Katrin Stöhr

But there are also a few things I know: Last weekend, I got from shaking fear on the first day to a 20-sec improvement on the last day and all thanks to the kind words of all the people around me. 

I sat in the chairlift and the nice guy next to me asked how I feel on the track and when I told him that I was  scared as hell, he told me to just keep riding, no matter how fast and one moment the fear will be gone - and he was right. (Thank you Mr. Unknown)

My result was SO bad, but everybody around me was supportive and lovely and to be honest, this was exactly what I needed because I still don't know what to do next.

I feel like quitting again, I'm starting from zero. AGAIN. There's no way to run now, this is the end. 

Three choices: Quitting, stop acting like a crybaby or leaving it how it is. 

Somebody said, there's a difference between quitting and letting go. Maybe I should finally let go. 

But no matter what, all I want to say is thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. For every single lovely word, hug, text, call. Especially the hugs, they mean the most to me. Thank you. 

You all have no idea how happy you make me!

Support the people you love. And also the people you don't love, you never know how badly somebody needs a few kind words. Be tolerant, be kind. Always. It can change peoples lives! 

Love,

pwp