"What's a little incline on the bike path of life?"

Well, just from reading my last blog it is clear to me now how drastically different some days on the road might be. Though I am still very much enjoying my bike, today was hard. This morning, I rode with Jack & Adam’s triathlon shop’s Sunday morning ride. It was only 20 miles, which I expected would be a breeze by now. It wasn’t necessarily an easy route—nothing like the Shoal Creek loop that we log miles on throughout the week—but it was shorter and less difficult than our Saturday morning team rides. I was sure I could handle it with ease. This was NOT the case. My legs burned on the very first hill. But I pushed on because I’ve realized that, for me, the first 5 miles can be the hardest. Runners often describe their first few miles in similar terms—it takes that “runner’s high” to kick in before your breathing is steady and those endorphins take away the pain. But then there was the next hill. And the one after that.

I was frustrated with myself because these hills weren’t as big or steep as several we have trained on. But 20 miles never went by so slow. Granted, I was also sore from yesterday and the day before. Yesterday morning the team rode 30 miles in under 3 hrs for our first benchmark test. It was a new route—hillier than the last—and we pushed ourselves to ride as fast as we could to make it in under the time requirement. And on Friday afternoon, I rode with Daniel and some teammates to Shoal Creek and Far West on a 25 mile ride. I saw one of the steepest hills in Austin (that I think over the years has become a T4K treasure) but a few of us on the ride Friday opted instead to watch the two more experienced riders climb it. All I could think about was how fun it looked to go down, but how hard it would be to come back up. It turns out the downhill slope is much more dangerous—unfortunately one of my team members was hurt recently from a fall on this hill. But by April, we will have climbed this hill as a team.

Tour das Hugel, photo credit: Daniel Norton

I don’t want to make it sound like I didn’t finish the ride—we definitely made it and weren’t even the last ones. We did 20 miles in about 1.5 hrs, which was a faster pace than the day before. But it wasn’t my best and my attitude wasn’t right.

This past week, Daniel and I started Bikram Yoga—26 postures in a 105 degree room for 90 minutes. The first class was brutal, but I had been warned. The second class was great. After a 30 mile ride, 90 minutes of stretching felt incredibly purifying. One of the things I love is Bikram’s objective towards wellness and balance in life. At first, it came across a little cheesy. But when the instructor tells you to leave all of your stress from the outside world on your mat, it makes a lot of sense. Not only are you cleansing your body of toxins and improving lung capacity and circulation, it’s a time to face yourself in the mirror and spend an hour and a half perfecting what you can with focus and discipline.

Recently, I have also been able to make a connection between life and cycling. Already, training has been one of the hardest things I’ve faced in my 21 years—which I realize makes me a very lucky person. But lately, I feel like I let so many more of the little things go. Whether it’s not getting ticked off at other drivers on the road or sitting in an insanely hot, humid room for 90 minutes (ha after this summer, I even think giving birth will be a cinch), I’ve noticed more patience and appreciation for the smaller things in life—because anything feels easier than pushing up one of those hills. But, interestingly, this is slightly different than our perspective at T4K. We ride for those who can’t. We compare our difficult journey to a patient’s battle with cancer, because they too keep going when they feel like giving up most. So for us, cycling is the least we can do—climbing hills is easier than a day in the life of a cancer patient, because at the end of the day, we can get off of our bikes and rest. Our thoughts can go elsewhere, and we have our health. So, with this in mind, I can continue to train and prepare myself as much as possible for the journey ahead. This experience has been very humbling and I know that by the end of the summer, this trip will have changed my life for the better.

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