Don't worry, I'm not quitting.
After a year of illness, what happens next?
It’s been a while since I’ve sat down to write for myself. Everything recently has been to generate attention, whether that be my ‘X Takeaways’ series from races, or something about the team I’m trying to build.
I’m currently in Maple Ridge, Maggie’s hometown, just outside of Vancouver. We’ve just got back after a couple of weeks away. My trip took me from Bentonville to New York City, and then a holiday road trip up the coast: LA, Santa Barbara, San Francisco, and Santa Rosa. In true Joe fashion, it’s been full on, but it’s been fun.
It’s been nice to escape the cycling bubble. To have days where the world doesn’t revolve around watts, weight, or the latest contracts. It’s frightening how quickly that world starts to feel like the only one that exists. Getting out of it has been a quiet reset, a reminder that when passion turns into profession, perspective is usually the first thing to go.
That being said, I’m equally excited to fly home this week. My own coffee machine, my own bed, my own apartment. It’s the little things.
The phantom sickness
There’s been an awful lot of thinking the last few weeks. It’s been a difficult year racing. A year characterised by puking up my guts. What’s wrong with me? I still don’t know, and the hardest part has been not knowing.
If you break a bone, you can see it on a scan. You count the weeks, you heal, you ride again. But when it’s something invisible that’s wrong, it becomes this internal war.
Some mornings I wake up and feel fine; other mornings I barely make it through brushing my teeth before the gagging starts. When I ride above the threshold, it’s like a switch flips, my stomach inflates, I dry heave, and then I’m bent over the bars, emptying whatever’s inside me.
I’ve told myself it’s stress, bad nutrition, or an illness. But months have passed, and it still won’t go away. I’ve seen specialists, had tests, ruled out the obvious. Still, no answers. Just theories. And when your job is literally to push your body, that uncertainty sucks.
Some days I laugh about it, chalk it up to another weird chapter in an even weirder career. Other days it’s harder. I’ll sit on the roadside with rapid, shallow breathing, like I’m having an asthma attack and feel a wave of frustration that has nothing to do with fitness.
With health issues dominating so much of my year, it’s only natural that my mind has cast to what’s next. I know that I’m not going to be able to race bikes forever.
Wait a sec, this isn’t a retirement article. I’m not quitting the sport.
I still love riding my bike too much for that. I still love the chaos of the circus, the small moments that only make sense to people who’ve lived them. Feeling class on a bike when everything clicks, and the arrogance comes out.
But I am questioning what being in the sport means. For my whole adult life, racing has been my whole identity. My results determined my mood, my confidence, and my pay cheque. That’s a dangerous way to live, especially when your body stops cooperating.
So, if this isn’t me quitting, what is it?
Well, it’s me trying to get my thoughts down on paper; it’s cathartic in a way. And, honestly, it’s me trying to take a bit more ownership. For the past few years, everything I’ve done has been through the lens of performance; how it would help my racing, how it would look to sponsors, or how it would fit into the story I was trying to tell.
I’ve got the itch
Lately, as you’ve probably realised by all my building a team posts, I’ve got the itch to build. The itch to put my brain into something more than just my own performance.
A part of this shift is financial. I’m in this awkward middle ground where I struggle to define if I’m a pro-racer, influencer, or copywriter. I’m good at what I do, playing the game that is privateering, but it’s exhausting.
I’ve often been told I’m too honest on the internet, that I should keep some cards close to my chest. I hear that, and those people are probably right and just trying to protect me, but here we are.
So, what’s next?
I’ll still be racing. I’ve got unfinished business with Redlands and the Mid South, to name but a couple. I’m getting the TT bike back out and focusing on TT Nationals, too.
I’ll keep pushing for my team. I’m pitching, creating decks, and networking my little socks off. My dream is to bring this team to the table. To build something that I want to exist, and that so many people want to feel a part of. That doesn’t mean it’ll be easy, or that it’ll even exist, but I’ll be damned if I don’t try.
And, there’ll be a little more personal work going on behind the scenes. I’m helping a pro team with their Substack presence, and I’m on the lookout for a few other gigs too. Because having a little bit of financial security that isn’t linked to my race results or Instagram following would be quite nice.
Writing this has been a reminder of why I started sharing on here in the first place, not for clicks or sponsors, but to make sense of it all. This might get me in a little bit of trouble or cost me a little bit of money in contracts along the way, but honestly, that’s okay.
I’d rather be honest than polished.
The following brands are racing partners of mine which allow me to do cool stuff.
While you’re here…
I’ve added a paid subscription and a ‘Buy Me A Coffee’ link to this post. As the year progresses, I’m planning on building this blog and putting out articles which I’ve always wanted to write but for whatever reason haven’t wanted to pitch.
https://www.buymeacoffee.com/joelaverick
Please don’t ever stop sharing. In a sport that full of sugar coating, or at best, veiled transparency, it’s nice hearing people who are honest
Have you been checked out for Crohns disease? I friend of mine was recently pushed out of Pro cycling in his early 30s after developing symptoms.