Kiel Reijnen Journal: Nationals nostalgia

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Sometimes I debate with my friends about what we are all doing. Not in the existential sense, more of the … “How did we end up bouncing around the world on two 25mm-wide tires, beating the snot out of each other for a living” sense. Racing in the WorldTour is a far cry from what we all fell in love with as 18-year-olds. We were a rag-tag bunch of adrenaline junkies, driving 15-passenger vans around the U.S., classic rock blasting from the stereo, and a tattered copy of VeloNews that had been passed around until every image was seared into our brains. Unlike the X-Games thrill-seekers of today, we got our rush from clocking 70mph through blind corners wearing nothing but lycra and a grimace of pain from five-plus hours of punishing our legs.

I don’t want to glamorize what was essentially an extended weekend with our bros, funded by our parents and fueled by our dreams of one day turning “pro.” We were surviving on instant oatmeal and more concerned about breaking bike parts than bones. It wasn’t a sustainable lifestyle. However, if we did make it to the upper echelons of the sport, the sacrifices would feel petty compared to the rewards of a full-time gig. That is exactly what a handful of us managed to do (by the skin of our teeth). But now that I am approaching 30, I find myself occasionally looking back over my shoulder and pining for those times.

Every year, nationals is a return to that youthful enthusiasm and nostalgic era, where every race felt like the most important of our life. Racing in the Southeast (were nationals has been every year since I turned pro) is a truly unique experience. At no other race during the year will the temperature and humidity compete until one has reached triple digits. But with an all-American peloton and a national championship jersey up for grabs, the event is always reminiscent of those early years.

Since I was the only rider at nationals representing Trek – Segafredo, I was …

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