It's just a hill.

 

My first bike commute to work could have been a marathon if it was measured in agita. I remember being hot, scared of the cars, hungry, unsure most of the ride. That was five or so years ago and I've been regularly commuting since.

My first organized ride, The Tour of Novato, was only 30 miles. I fretted about it for weeks in advance, full on jitters the night before and fell at an impossibly slow speed on one of the turns from overthinking it. Now, I regularly ride 25 miles or so on the longe route home from work.

My first century, El Tour de Tucson, gave me all kinds of nerves including an urgent trip to the porta-potty just before the start and shaking arms the first mile or so. Crossing the finish line I thought, is that all there is?

I finished all of these restrospectivley small hurdles, without much trouble beyond dealing with my own anxiety around each.

The Marin Century is just around the corner. I thought about doing it once a couple years back until we drove the route and I completely psyched myself out. The hills, both climbing and descending, seem ridiculous to me. I am signed up this year and will not back out. So I've gotta conquer those hills.

I started practicing on the steepest, shortest hills I can find. Today's was just a little blip, really short but steepest at the peak. Coming home from the grocery store with a full pack I decided it's now or never. The higher I went the more I started to think. The more I started to think the less confident I became. I made it up the hill but lost my breathe along the way.

Let's see how round 2 turns out.

Does the body rule the mind or does the mind rule the body? I don't know. - The Smiths