Bike Blog Two: Magic in the Moment

Bike Blog Two…Magic in the Moment

I remember when I was little and anything was possible and it was easy to believe in everything. My “ouchie” really felt better with my mother’s kiss, scary things really lived in my closet and under my bed, and I KNEW I would become famous and live in New York City. I was born a believer, we all are, and then life slapped me in the face and I began to doubt. I’m not sure exactly when that happened, maybe when I found out peas weren’t really Martian heads, like my sister had told me they were; maybe when I failed beginner swimming lessons (I think I’m the only one that’s EVER happened to), or maybe when I got books for Christmas. No matter the actual event, doubt entered my world, and has been here, off and on, ever since.

But, six months ago, the believer in me came shining through. I signed up to ride 150 miles in the Colorado Rocky Mountains. Never mind the fact that I didn’t own a bike, hadn’t exercised regularly in 20 years (yes, seriously), or had ever really wanted to be a biker. I was committed, I believed I would succeed, and it felt good.

And I continued to believe. I talked myself through the pains of an aching back, stiff neck, tight legs, sleeping toes, and tender hands. I pictured myself riding strong in the mountains, knowing that I would be fine. I didn’t really train on hills, living in Wichita, Kansas, but rode into the wind which is equally tough (or so I believed). All was good. Even when I struggled with an injury only three weeks before the ride, I was confident that I’d be fine and would ride well.

Then, I got to Colorado. The mountains were amazing – and HUGE. The air was thin, and there were bikers everywhere wearing matching jerseys and riding fast. I began to doubt. Could I really do this ride? I didn’t train on hills. Sometimes, I still forgot that my shoes were attached to my bike, and I’d fall (twice in one week). I didn’t even train on the roads, let alone the highway! My longest ride to date had only been 36 miles, less than any event ride. And, I had just recovered from an injury…who was I kidding?

Then, something happened…I started to ride. The sting in my legs was replaced by the exhilaration of hitting 29mph on my first downhill. My shortness of breath was replaced by the rolling Arkansas River 5 feet from the bike path. The ginormousness of the mountains overshadowed all my doubt. It was a magical moment. I began to believe again, understanding that my purpose in this ride was bigger than my abilities. And as it turned out, I did great!