Fears, tears, and cheers

Imagine yourself attempting any regular daily activity--walking, brushing your teeth, talking on the phone, breathing even. And yet something isn't quite right. Your legs feel heavy, as if you're wearing ankle weights. You struggle to even pick up your foot. Ditto for your arms when trying to brush your teeth. The phone call? Can't hear. It sounds like the other person is under water. And forget about breathing--every time you inhale, it feels like you're the one under water.

Welcome to my 80-mile bike ride on Saturday: an attempt to do something I've done a million times before, yet feeling utterly handicapped. The forecast called for wind, but I was not prepared for how debilitating it would be. My legs churned, my thighs yelled at me, and I had to turn my head away from the onslaught to catch a breath.

Okay, I exaggerate. The entire ride wasn't so completely backbreaking and demoralizing. Just the last 50 miles. The first 30 were sterling and I clipped along at a blistering pace.

So why the fears? Gusts reached 40+ mph that day. Just when I thought the headwind was bad, I turned a corner and was greeted by the more dangerous crosswind. Several times I felt my bike actually move sideways. I didn't even dare take a hand off the bars to grab a drink. I was keenly aware that at any moment, the wind could catch my front wheel and I'd be laid flat out on my back. I thought about walking during the heinously strong gusts, but I couldn't even stop safely...I knew that if I slowed down, the wind would win.

And what about the tears? The spring "breeze" was relentless, as was the helpless feeling it induced. Despite my exhaustive efforts, there were times I was going only slightly faster than I can run. And don't even ask me about riding at a snail's pace past the pig farm. Twice I seriously considered calling Steve to come pick me up. I didn't...mostly because my rational brain was somehow still working and convinced me that I could be back at my car faster than he could get there, and well, I'd still have to wait in the wind. See, I was in Aurora, a totally-exposed expanse of a town east of Denver. East, as in kinda-like-Kansas. And that means no shelter, no gas station in which to hunker down, no tree even to lean against. It was either sit on the side of the road and wait, or ride on said road and inch closer to salvation. Inch closer, I did. Once back in my car, I sat. I sat in the stillness and quiet. I shed a few tears that day, many while riding and a few more when I was safe and driving back home.

And the cheers? Today I brought home my I'm-turning-40 cruiser bike, my chill-the-$#@%-out-bike. She's resting in the office right now. She had a big day, getting polished up and poked and prodded, what with getting the basket installed and the new valve caps swapped out and the leather streamers glued on. Every time I walk by her, I can't help but smile. I haven't yet introduced her to my road bike, but I'm convinced they'll be fast friends.

This week brought other cheers. Training is definitely getting really hard, and yet I feel better than ever. I can't sing the praises of muscle activation enough. And despite all my whining above about my ride, I recovered quickly and had a terrific 10-mile run this morning. On the swimming front, I'm 800 meters (1/2 mile) away from being able to swim the race distance. This won't come until next month, and yet at this point, my pace is consistent and if I keep it up, I'll meet my swim time goal on June 26.

Here are the week's totals.

Total time = 14:10
Total mileage = 121.75
Swim = 3:35, 4.75
Bike = 6:15, 101.00
Run = 2:35, 16.00
Other = 1:45

One last reflection on Saturday's ride. I think it was at mile 70, when I had 10 miles still to go and was having my second meltdown, when Muhammed Ali's words from my last post entered my head. "The will must be greater than the skill." I have the skill to ride in adverse conditions. And yet skill was not what saw me through those last 10 miles. It was sheer will. No, there are no coincidences--I came across that quote at just the right time.