The Quiet Side of Racing: A Flicker of Homesickness
The morning after the race that never happened.
I never really get homesick. I’ve spent most, if not all, my adult life living away from home, so much so that my perception of home has now changed.
Okay, that’s a lie. I was violently homesick my first few weeks when I first moved to France aged 19, but I very quickly grew out of that.
It’s the morning after the race that never happened. It’s 09:53 and I’m sitting at breakfast by myself in a rented Airbnb in Stillwater, Oklahoma on FaceTime to Maggie who is at home in Girona.
There were six of us staying in this house this weekend: myself, Dan, Alexey Vermeulen, Avery Stumm, Alex Howes and Robert Barranco. There were so many of us that Hutch and I were sharing a bed - it was an American king-size for those wondering.
All of the boys left this morning for the airport before I woke up. The American contingent all back to Boulder, and Dan back to our ‘home home’ of Grimsby. I woke up to a very quiet house. There’s no post-race fatigue, no ride to go on as I’m on a rest day and it is eerily quiet.
It’s a weird dichotomy between the craziness of the 72hrs and the silence of the house right now.
For the first time in as long as I can remember, I’ve got that slight homesick knot in my stomach. I know it’ll go away within a couple of hours, but I thought I’d get something down on paper. I’m very much aware that I’m living the dream, to the degree that I have to stop myself and smile at what's going on.
I’m selfish, it’s a trait of being an athlete. When I’m in race mode, my head goes down, and I don’t call home as often. The focus is finding that perfect line around the water crossing, cramming with carbs, or doing photo/video work with Hutch.
Yet, the morning after, when I’m home alone, I realise how thankful I am to the people around me. I’m still on FaceTime with Maggie, she’s nattering away about some random shit to do with I don’t know what - it’s MaggieFM as she’s mixing gossip and her favourite facts about cooking and the world.
There’ll be a load of words to come out from me over the next few days about the craziness of this weekend. It’ll take me time to get it all together.
Alex Howes put the last few days into words very nicely. He wrote in a way only a man like Alex Howes can. He lives in a place which has constant fire threat, so he knows what to expect. he’s also a Dad and the least stressed man I’ve ever met. When he said pack up, we packed up and got going.
In the next hour or so, I’ll be packing up the car and heading to Texas for Rattlesnake Gravel. It’s a 6hr drive, and I’ll be back to my US normal. For now, weirdly, thank you. Writing this as if somebody is reading is cathartic.
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Glad you’re safe Joe