Now I remember

You know how odors are said to trigger the strongest memories? Today I dug out my old summer cycling gloves and as I put them on the smell of sunblock rose up around me. Reminded me of long summer rides back in Nebraska, nearly ten years back. The smell spoke of winding gray highways, green weeds and scattered trees, hot headwinds and gentle breezes, the stiffness of starting out in the morning, the pleasant rhythm of a steady ride, the tedium of long hills and the fun of good conversation, both while riding and at the tavern at the end of the day. The simple joy of a ride well done.

Yesterday I got a book on bicycle conditioning, and one of the author's big points is the need to build up one's power, the ability handle hills without fading to the bottom gear. He talked about the need to attack hills on training rides, cautioning that doing it right "will hurt" as the muscles are forced to work.

I understood that, intellectually, but "knew" I could handle it. So today I eschewed the bike trails and took the direct route, with four long rolling hills. Not so bad I thought on one, two, and three. Hill Four began after a long wait at a red light, and demanded a lot more of me. But I did it, and went several more miles of general riding. I noticed my legs hurt a tad, from the past couple days, and my butt was less than happy. Still I rolled on, and the ride was good.

Then it was time to turn for home, maybe 8 miles out. I followed the bike trail around, then ended up at the base of one long hill before the home stretch (Note to self: someday buy a house in a depression surrounded by hills, so that every ride from every direction will end up downhill). I was hot and tired, and tempted to turn away and find the easier way home. But I went for it. Gradually I shifted into lower and lower gears, ending up in granny about a quarter from the top -- someplace I never want to be on a "real" ride. I shifted my focus to one push at a time, and promised myself a cool relaxing smoothie and hot bath, and maybe a day off from riding, anything, if I could just get it done. I shut out the tempting image of stopping and walking. I told myself it shouldn't be this hard, but I didn't believe it. I remembered those long hot highway hills of Nebraska, the pain of raw determination, and the simple fact of survival. I reminded myself this is why I'm training, to hurt now in a controlled setting, so that I can do more, later, when things are less forgiving.

And I got it done, felt the warm sun and gentle breeze, heard the birds again, and coasted the last quarter mile home. I'd done it, and I was done for today.