Dear Mom, I'm Sorry

In the past few years cycling has taken skin, eyebrows and a fair amount of my blood due to careless mistakes of my inexperience. With every crash I couldn't understand why my mom was always frantic until she talked to me, only calmed by me saying, "I'm ok, just a little banged up and sore." While this wasn't always totally truthful, as in the case of Colorado in 2009, it let my mom go about her day without worrying herself about me.

Today made me realize why my mom hates to watch me race, hates to watch me absolutely fly on my bicycle. Today in the Giro someone lost their son to the sport in Wouter Weylandt. As a bike racer I am conscience of what could happen if I fell at 45 mph, or clipped a car on a tight curve, but almost never think of them. Today I was forced to acknowledge that my sport can be a fatal one, and I cannot take racing and training lightly. I make the choice to kit up and roll out the door each day, from here on out forever thankful of my health and my understanding, supportive family.

Mom, I love you and am sorry for all the times I called Dad before you after hitting the deck.

And to cheer everyone up here are some UCSB kids celebrating easter.