Last Sunday's training ride was 55 miles. In the mountains. It was long, hellish, painful, and I was REALLY glad when it was over. Even so, the scenery was stunningly beautiful, and I was able to recognize and appreciate the view even when struggling up those mountains. I was able to thank Whoever for the blessing of being alive and able to do this.
This week was a rest week, so the long ride was only 30 miles. "Only" 30 miles. Three short months ago I thought 15 miles was a long ride. Now I'm grousing about doing "only" 30! (So, ever obsessive, I did the 30 at a full-out sprint. Note to self: "rest week" means fewer miles, not fewer miles at gut-busting pace.)
Honestly, until now I've never really believed I could ride a bike across the USA. Sure, I've been telling people it's gonna happen. But I've SEEN the mountain in Jerome, Arizona that we're going to climb. There was always that small, nagging voice wondering if I could really do it. Today the answer is "hell, yeah. I can really do it."
But the point of this post is not to recite training stats. It's to reflect on the fact that 3 short months ago my life was so different: heading into another fun summer, the only stress was figuring out how to fit my planned vacations into a productive work schedule. Everything was looking up. That was BEC (before Elyse's cancer). Now I look back on it and wonder what the hell happened. I also recognize, however, that if not for Elyse's cancer I would be a very different person right now. Elyse's cancer, and its emotional and professional impact on my life, has revealed an internal strength I never knew I had. I never wanted to run a law practice, but I can do it. I never wanted to be a cyclist but somehow I IS one. I never wanted to inspire and motivate people but somehow I've managed to do just that.
Elyse's cancer has revealed a very different Amy. And that's not entirely a bad thing.
This week was a rest week, so the long ride was only 30 miles. "Only" 30 miles. Three short months ago I thought 15 miles was a long ride. Now I'm grousing about doing "only" 30! (So, ever obsessive, I did the 30 at a full-out sprint. Note to self: "rest week" means fewer miles, not fewer miles at gut-busting pace.)
Honestly, until now I've never really believed I could ride a bike across the USA. Sure, I've been telling people it's gonna happen. But I've SEEN the mountain in Jerome, Arizona that we're going to climb. There was always that small, nagging voice wondering if I could really do it. Today the answer is "hell, yeah. I can really do it."
But the point of this post is not to recite training stats. It's to reflect on the fact that 3 short months ago my life was so different: heading into another fun summer, the only stress was figuring out how to fit my planned vacations into a productive work schedule. Everything was looking up. That was BEC (before Elyse's cancer). Now I look back on it and wonder what the hell happened. I also recognize, however, that if not for Elyse's cancer I would be a very different person right now. Elyse's cancer, and its emotional and professional impact on my life, has revealed an internal strength I never knew I had. I never wanted to run a law practice, but I can do it. I never wanted to be a cyclist but somehow I IS one. I never wanted to inspire and motivate people but somehow I've managed to do just that.
Elyse's cancer has revealed a very different Amy. And that's not entirely a bad thing.
No comments:
Post a Comment