Sara Bergen

My Inner Fire

By InnerVoice

October 13^th, 2017

When I first started riding I could barely take my hands off the handlebars to eat a granola bar, let alone eating in a peloton of 100 riders. It is actually kind of a hilarious realization that you struggle to eat on your bike. I didn’t feel any kind of embarrassment, if anything it made me focused, so I would ride around on my own and focus on keeping a straight line while reaching into my pockets. In my early races I would stash at least 1 gel in the thigh band of the shorts, giving me easy access to a gel while not having to reach around in my jersey. The more I raced the more confidence I gathered.

Once I had that dialled it was on to being more food specific. In endurance sport, eating is almost as important as breathing. If you are not fuelling yourself correctly, you are really undercutting yourself. I used to eat peanut butter and jam sandwiches. At first, I cut the sandwiches into 4’s and wrapped them individually so they were in easy bite-sized pieces. Then I started using more race-specific foods, and learning little tricks like opening the bars before the race for easy access.

Next lesson: feed zones. They’re always nuts, regardless of how skilled you are on a bike. Navigating my way through the feed zone was literally trial and error. Sometimes I would go buzzing by the person holding the bottle way and then OOPS! I missed the feed as the bottle goes flying through the air. I learned quickly that tempering my speed going into feeds zones equalled more bottles.

The commuter olympics

My journey to road racing was 25 years in the making. I come from what many would call a multi-sport background. From a young age I had boundless energy, whether it was bouncing around in the gym as a competitive gymnast, scampering through the mountains of BC, equestrian show jumping, or participating in school sports; I was constantly moving. In my late teens that same passion was fed with kayaking, rock climbing, snowboarding, and multi-day backcountry “missions”. To this day, I am in that same constant state of scheming for the next chance to get out outside.

I started to be directed towards cycling when I began commuting to BCIT on an old hard tail mountain bike. My daily commute added a strange level of focus to my ride, and being me, I would hit that commute as hard as possible. This was no easy spin. There was something about “the commuter Olympics” that lit one hell of a fire in me. I knew pretty quickly I wanted to race, I just didn’t know how to start. After graduating with a degree in Architectural Science and a diploma in Architectural and Building Engineering Technology, I used what was left of my academic research scholarship to invest in my first road bike. The smooth speed of the skinny tires and stiff and responsive handling of that bike had me hooked right away.

“I believe that my mentality is what makes me a tough competitor. Through all of my early years adventuring I believe I trained myself to be tough, tenacious and passionate.”

i bounced at least 4 feet in the air

I can withstand a lot of suffering. I can crash at 80 km/hr (never ideal), get up broken bone and all, and get back on my bike to finish the race. That’s exactly what happened this past spring in New Mexico. I was in the finishing kilometres of a time trial, on a very fast downhill section. I was head down, digging as deep as I could for the final push. I had completely emptied myself on that race. In a moment of inattention, I struck a course cone and was launch off my bike at 80km/hr. I hit the pavement with my right shoulder so hard that I bounced at least 4 feet in the air before I hit again and tumbled to a stop. I broke my collar bone - like snapped it clean in half - with the force of that impact. Usually collar bones are broken when a rider puts their hand down to stop a fall. I remember getting up and doing a self evaluation in the middle of the road, standing folded at the waist with my arms hanging down to the ground. Legs: check, those were okay. Head: check, I didn’t hit my head – sawwweettt. My finger tips had pretty much been shaved off when my hand grazed the ground, so the hands they got a passing grade; I could still ride. As I stood up I kind of knew something on my right shoulder was in a different location than I was used to – still, I could finish. I had a significant amount of road rash everywhere else – still, I could finish. My team manager said that my shoulder looked like it was touching my ear, and still I asked for my spare bike. Road rash or not, possible broken bone or not, I really wanted to finish what I had started. So, I got on my spare bike and coasted down the hill to the finish. After finishing the race I headed straight to the First Aid tent. I knew I was riding a wave of adrenaline so it was best to get the road rash cleaned up as soon as possible.

when things get tough i think of nihilism

When times get tough I turn to a sarcastic, somewhat cutting sense of humour. I like to keep things light on the bike and I will fight to get that fun and lightness back. I race and train because, to me, it is so much fun. That’s probably why I am regularly photographed cracking a smile at the start line. So when I am sitting at the start line with half a grin on my face, what am I thinking about? Nihilism. I’m not joking. When things get tough I think of nihilism. Nothing, absolutely nothing. Pain? What even is pain? Pain is nothing. I repeat this in my head because it lightens the mood and never fails to make me crack a smile.

you can only control your variables

If I could impart wisdom on someone from my community, it would be two-fold, delivered in quote form. Firstly, to quote Ronda Rousey (which is super random) “If you can't dream big, ridiculous dreams, what's the point in dreaming at all?” Secondly, is the Mike Jenkins quote “water is more important than gold.” The quotes are free standing, and I won’t explain or elaborate on them - I think everyone should take what they can from them.

The day before I competed at the World Championships, a super-wise friend told me something very important. He said “Sara, remember that you can only control your variables.” In a race, you can control what you eat, what you drink and you can train your emotional state. There is no point in stressing or focusing on all the other things that cause you stress and discomfort. What he said really stuck with me, and I have started only concerning myself with controlling my variables.

“Sleep is critical to me. We often sacrifice sleep in the name of productivity - up early and to bed late. This burning it at both ends usually results in bad training days or race days. The best way for me to get back onto track is to sleep… to sleep a lot. A good solid night of sleeping and a midday nap is typically just the thing to sort me out and get me back on track.”

"Big Deal"

Who doesn’t fear rejection? It’s confirmation that we were really not good enough. As an athlete, rejection happens all the time; when you don’t make the team, don’t get the selection, you don’t achieve that sought after contract. All of this rejection, it can really suck. Still you can be crushed by that rejection, or never even try something because you fear the possible rejection. Rejection is the best fuel and the best motivator. So rejection, in an odd way, has trained me to double down, train harder, be smarter and keep at it.

My late grandma, she was one boss of a lady. In her youth she and her family emigrated from Russia. Grandma spoke two languages fluently, she was an accomplished tailor, baker, worked as a tree planter, and raised a family of 6 in BC’s north. She was an incredibly tough and intelligent woman. I find her inspiring because she was so accomplished at a time that really didn’t celebrate strong women, and also at a time where women were not encouraged to push themselves to see what they could achieve. Its her internal drive that inspires me. She was internally motivated and she was good at what she did, really good. In our family, she is best remembered by her catchphase “big deal.” Yeah, she also had a fantastic cutting sense of humour. No matter how messed up things got, she would always say “big deal,” which is meant to put everything in perspective.