Last summer, on the Forth of July, Jeremiah won the Marathon National Championships. A few weeks later, he took his second national championship of the year with a victory in the short track event at Mt. Snow. Then he charged through the American Mountain Classic, winning most of the stages and the overall title. He was super fit, super fast and super light. (He is still all of these things, but this is a tale about last year. I digress.)
I’ve been lucky enough to accompany Jeremiah on many of his adventures; share in the victories and take pride in his accomplishments. You’ve probably seen us pre-riding the race courses together, and I’m often handing up bottles in the feed zones or cheering from some remote location on the course. The stories I could tell seem endless, full of great characters and usually bring a smile when I recollect them. Already my mind is wandering again. (I'll try to post them here more often)
The arrival of a long over-due package in this week’s deliveries brings up a fun story that I’ll tell today.
Last year, as Jeremiah was ramping up for what would become an amazing season, we looked ahead at the summer calendar. There were so many variables to piece together: Cape Epic, the UCI World Cup, the US National Series, National Championships, Worlds, not to mention the US Olympic Team qualification criteria on top of it all.
There’s a cliché about shooting for the stars; if you miss, at least you’ll hit the moon... Well, this held true, and though Jeremiah wouldn’t make the Olympic team, he would have a stellar season, nonetheless.
Anyhow, part of pulling together the fitness and form for a racing "peak" is dropping down to what Jeremiah calls "race weight." For someone as lean as he is, the last two or three pounds are the hardest to shed. Jeremiah's see-it-and-want-to-eat-it appetite makes delicious food hard to resist, and I don't think he'll mind me saying so.
So last spring and summer, we tried something new. Jeremiah decided to incentivize me for helping him achieve his race weight.
Just what could he use to tempt me? How about the sugar bowl matching my china?
I bit that hook.
In the following weeks, I would do my best to keep Jeremiah away from buffets, chocolate shops, bakeries and just plain old gluttony. I smacked his hand away from more cookies, muffins, scones and chocolate bars than I can remember. I was the party killer when beer was involved. It was all in good fun for me, and a great reminder of his goals for him.
So, this week (about a year overdue and spurred on by the imminent discontinuation of the pattern) I claimed my reward.

Victory is sweet.
Yet, I can't help but chuckle at the sugary irony of it all.
-ErinLabels: Jeremiah, Stories