Levels of suck explained

“I attacked at the bottom of the hill, I was near my max at the time and I managed to bridge up to a lead group of about 5 riders, blah, blah, bla-bitty, blah…”

This is why I choose to spare my readers the minute details of my races. It comes down to whether you suck that day or not, very simple. For brevity’s sake I’ve put the levels of suck on a scale of one to ten. (Very creative – I know – I’m not Mark Twain, OK?) Well, here they are:

Level 1 – This is a great day. A day when you float on the pedals, and are able to counter your opponents’ moves easily and end up with a fine race result to prove it. These days happen about 2 or 3 times in an entire bicycle racing career.

Level 2 – You had a good day, people patted you on the back after the race and cursed you when they were out of earshot. Good times.


Level 3 – You're still doing well, maybe you made it into a break or such. Maybe you lead out someone who placed or something like that, but it’s still not as nice as getting a result yourself, you selfish cretin.


Level 4 – You finished strong but not in the money, but you still take away a good feeling from the race, because you’re a bicycle racer and you’re mental. (That a bike racer is mental should go without saying, but I’m explaining everything in excruciating detail anyway, so I’ll explain anyway.)


Level 5 – An average race, no results, no embarrassing mishaps, but painful, of course. Bike races are always painful if you’re doing it correctly.


Level 6 – Not a notch in the “good feeling” category. There’s pain involved, not debilitating pain by any means, but something that will linger for a couple of days. But you’ll go out training tomorrow anyway, because, well, see level 4.


Level 7 – Your happy face is turning sad or angry. Events and people are conspiring against you. You are becoming Captain Bring-down on the bad ship bummer. You break something titanium.


Level 8 – Alright, this isn’t funny anymore. Why does the almighty mock me so? This bike racing is a cruel joke.


Level 9 - Maybe you crashed, maybe you paid $35 to race 2 miles, frustration dogs you as you fume on the way home. You begin to despise all around you.


Level 10 – The worst, most absolute bottom. Despair marks your every move; there is nothing positive to take away from the experience. You begin contemplating doing yourself damage or even worse, you consider taking up golf.