Race Day, Madrid
Today was race day. World cup number one, Madrid.
The night before a big event that you are involved in - it’s no surprise to not sleep much. As was the case with me last night. I woke at 5am grinding my teeth. It wasn’t so much the nerves about the day’s events but something worse. Besides mentally going over the long list of shots I needed to get today: start and finish of both mens and womens races, interviews before and after with the main players, shots around the venue, spectators cheering, my potential vantage points along the course - how I would get from one place to the next and maximize the shots so as not to have the main players wiz by me on a boring section, planning where I’d be at each lap then how I’d get back to the start/finish line in time to film the winners… besides all that, I laid in bed wondering if what I’m doing is worth it. Self doubt is sneaky like that. It waits till your tired and worn down and pretty nervous about something - then it pounces from a dark corner of your conscience. Catch me during the day after I’ve had my share of java and I tend to feel invincible. Not this morning. This morning I had a really hard time finding reason for my being in Spain. It would seem simple to justify this trip but such reasoning lends itself to objective thinking - self doubt doesn’t play by those rules, and it was with me all morning.
I was out on the course running from one place to the next, getting one great shot after another. Doubting all of it. At one point I was running back to catch the riders come through the feed zone on their second to last lap and I stopped running. I slowed down to a brisk walk and that slowed down to a trudge. Why bother? Why keep going? If I don’t get that last shot, no one will know, nor will they care. Hell, the entire project has yet to get off the ground. “There’s no money in off-road cycling anymore. You’re about 8 years too late.” someone had recently told me. We have the trailer done, sent out to all the ‘right’ people and still, no sponsorship. Chances are getting someone to sponsor the movie is a pipe dream. And this dream has become too expensive to be just that.
Frustration forced my pace back to a trot and I came across Mike Broderick who is Mary McConnelough’s mechanic, team manager, driver, soigneur and boyfriend. He was cheering her as she rode by. I got the shot. Then Mike - whom I had met only hours before - said something that I won’t forget. He said, “You know, Jason, I’ve seen you out here running around getting footage and I love the energy you have for this. Every other camera man sits and lets everything come to him but man, you’re all over the place! I’m sure the footage is going to be great just because of the amount of energy you’re putting into this. You’re really passionate about it, that’s cool.” He rode down the hill to get ready for his race - he is a pro as well, competing on the World Cup. Pretty amazing.
As with any flattering compliment I had tried to say something modest. But “Thank You” would have been most appropriate. What he said, I needed to hear. At a time when I needed to hear it. Not much, just affirmation that I was going to do something great with my efforts. And as I ran to the next place along the course it started to sink in. And I realized, it isn’t the big corporate sponsor or their financial backing and it isn’t having Sue or Jeremiah make the Olympic team that will make this film spectacular. It’s the people it’s about. And the people in this sport. People like Mike who aren’t in it for the money, but for the love and passion they have for the sport. For taking a different line through life. And for chasing a dream.
I realized this is my contribution. Because while I don’t race anymore, I love the sport. And I love the people involved in the sport. Their lives are passionate, dramatic, insanely dedicated and tough. And that is what this film is about. Their story needs to be told. And I’m proud to be the one to tell it.
Next stop, Belgium.
Photo is Mike, getting Mary’s SEVEN ready for the race.
