I went into this week not knowing how the Jesse James 100 miler would go. I was out of town again for a decent portion of the week, and I’ve learned that work trips are hell on my back. My nerves were frazzled this morning, that’s for sure.
A group of 9 intrepid cyclists headed out in the extreme heat to tackle riding 300 miles across Northern Iowa in under 24 hours. Did we make it?
Time flies when you’re busy. On some level I knew that the spring was quickly evaporating, and work travel combined with general life had kept me off the bike. Once we hit June I realized that my epic-stupid-crazy ride was less than a month away. Uh oh. Time to start training, or tapering, or give up, or something.
Unbeknownst to me, I had chosen to ride a route that contained a Strava segment called “meth teeth” in southern Missouri. I mean, what could possibly go wrong?! I was coming off of a great 115 mile ride earlier in the week and felt invincible.
I had been itching for a long ride for months, maybe even a year, and I decided it was time to test the systems and strive for a comeback ride. April has been a great time of testing out my body and its limits. Calf surgery to remove a muscle and release an artery was in early March so I’m quickly moving away from that fiasco. My spine and core muscles have been feeling solid with all the extra physical therapy. A few early tests went very well, so I planned a series of rides to further push my body Read More
When I was a brand new cyclist, I didn’t dare show up to a ride if I thought there was a chance I’d get dropped. I thought that getting dropped meant I was failing; now, I embrace getting dropped. Here’s why.
Kindness. A concept that I can easily extend to others when they are hurting, but I have so much trouble applying it to myself. Over the last month or so my focus has been on being kind to myself and holy heck it’s not easy.
My tired legs were fading fast and I found myself counting 5 pedal strokes at a time, then 4, then 2, then 1. “One, one, one …”
I trudged up Oriole, hating the course, hating its maker, and hating the stupid idea of biking 380 miles of gravel over 3 days as a recreational ride.
I had a gnawing deep down after not finishing the Alexander 380 this spring due to an ill-timed mechanical, and I was simultaneously determined to tackle the course again but also wanted to walk away and never look back. My tenacious attitude got me back on the bike and now that it’s over I’m SO glad I did.