I can’t believe I made it through yesterday’s ride. It was long, very hilly, very windy, and my heart just wasn’t in it at the beginning. I had to drag myself out of bed at 6:00 AM, drive an hour and twenty minutes to the starting point, strap on my gloves and helmet, and ride for the rest of the day. At first, it was fine, and the first 40 miles or so were fun and relatively easy. Around mile 50, though, I started to lose it. Every hill looming ahead of me seemed like a personal affront. The wind was an evil entity all by itself. My face wanted to crumple up in tears–it was the weirdest sensation, like it hurt NOT to cry! So I tried to take my mind off my aching legs by thinking about why I’m doing this. And then I really started to cry, because I’m doing this because of my Mum, and that usually is a sure ticket for tears. Desperate to quit, I ran different scenarios through my head. "If I fall down, maybe everyone would feel sorry for me, and I could get SAGged back to my car!" or "I could just say that my wrist hurts too badly to continue" (and it did hurt, but not that badly.) But I knew that there are no wimps allowed, and I made myself hear my mother say, "Buck up, Ally!" and I prayed a lot. (Mostly stuff like, "Oh Lord, just please push me up this hill, just let me get up this hill.") Finally, around mile 62, something just clicked. All of a sudden, my legs didn’t hurt so much anymore. I wasn’t as tired. It started to get fun again! And we found a good place to go to the bathroom (the lack of which probably contributed a lot to my malaise). I breezed through the next 16 miles at speeds I usually only get at the beginning of rides. I didn’t want to cry anymore. I need to remember, for next week, and all my other long rides, that I will turn that corner, even though it hurts like crazy to get there. Thank you to all my friends that I KNOW were praying for me. It encouraged me so much to think of that while I was out there.
