Zero to 22.8

When I first signed up for the Chino Grinder Fun Grind (22.8 miles coming up in October) and the Desert Gravel Fruitadens Ride (31.6 miles next April), my only goal(s) was to participate in each one. I told myself “I just want to say I rode in a bicycle race”. No big deal. Low expectations. Ride the bike, try to stay upright, and say I did it. Take home the participation trophy, or medal, or whatever they give you for showing up and trying. Maybe even get some additional cool swag along the way, like a t-shirt, or hat, or a tote bag. Either way, I felt great about my decision. I felt confident, albeit a little nervous signing the liability waivers acknowledging my awareness of long, isolated stretches of the trail between aid stations, mountain lion territory, and the possibility of venomous snakes. That trepidation soon left though. It’s Arizona and high desert Colorado after all. I’d be like my own hero version of Steve Irwin the Crocodile Hunter, pedaling The Mighty Annie Mize over the wild, gravel laden hills, covered in dirt, passionate about my existence and partnership with Mother Nature, empowered by sheer determination and grit. Me, in a bike race, then a second one a bit longer than the first? Bad ass. 

When it comes to races, competitions, or sports in general, I would totally not call myself competitive, even though my astrological sign is a Leo. Growing-up, I played soccer for ten years. I hated running and I hated the idea of letting my teammates down with my poor dribbling and passing skills, so I became a goalie. Of course, waves of shame usually hit when we lost a game, as it was my responsibility to keep the ball out of the net behind me. Thinking I was minimizing my disappointment and my teammate’s by avoiding eye contact with everyone, I’d walk off the field dreading our next practice, scrimmage, or game – hoping to not let them down again. I also shied away from any rituals pre-game. You know, the ones where the team circles up and says a chant together, or they jump up and down to get the blood flowing, or they slap each other and grunt wild animal grunts. Avoiding anything that put me into my body, and driven by a thousand forms of fear, I made sure to keep my little Leo to a meow, if that. I told myself I didn’t care, and therefore I must not be competitive because competitive people care. 

So, it surprised me. Shocked me. Straight up wrecked my existence as I know it when (after a few days of signing up for the bicycle races) a not so quiet, not so still little Leo roared out of my mouth to a friend:

“What if I tried to place in the races? What if I believed I could win?”

Pause.

I looked over my shoulder. 

Excuse me, who exactly are you talking to? 

Wait. What? Me?

Um, could you please repeat? What was that you said? I think I misunderstood.

A little Leo decided to stop meowing in the back row and start roaring in the front row.

She said again:

“What if I tried to place in the races? What if I believed I could win?”

Then, a fight broke out inside of me.

No! 

Yes! 

No!

Yes!

* * * * *

Many paths to one Race.

It’s a race! It’s a ride! It’s hard! It’s fun! You love riding! Does it require training? How much training? Do I need a training course, or a trainer, or both? I hate that word train. So much pressure. Do I need to get cushy with a local bike shop? I’ve had good experiences in bike shops, except for that one place in Austin in 2021 – they sucked. 

What do I eat? How do I eat? Do you even eat during a “fun ride”. Why is it called a fun ride anyway? 22.8 miles on gravel is not a fun ride. Gravel is hard. My butt hurts just thinking about it. How do I stay hydrated? I only own one 20oz water bottle. 

When will I do my meditation practice? Will I ride after work? It’ll be too dark in the mornings. How do I keep myself motivated if I have to go after work? How do I get in the hours I need to get more acclimated to the distances I’ll be expected to go? How do I build up the endurance for the hills? Oh, the hills. I’m scared of going down hills.  

Am I even strong enough? How do I get faster? I need to get faster. What about my back? Will it give out? Do I need to start doing squats?I hate squats. What about planks? Maybe I need to add in yoga. How do you exercise your shoulders? Do you even need to exercise your shoulders for a bike race? 

Maybe now is the time to get new shoes and bib shorts. There are some nice Five Ten shoes I’ve been eyeing for a while. Am I even allowed to participate in something like this? I’m not competitive. But, apparently some part of me is competitive. Who is she? How do I become an athlete? Wait, me, an athlete? I’m not an athlete. I just want to ride my bike. And, apparently win. Stop saying that, please. 

How do I change a flat tire? How do I do any maintenance on my bike? What tools do I need for a race? I don’t even have a bag on my bike to put tools into. I tuck my car keys under the sticky part of my shorts. How do I ride alongside 100 other riders and not crash? What if I crash? Shit, what if I crash into other riders? 

Will it be hot in October or April? What about the sun that’s three inches from your face in Arizona? Do I need sunglasses? What if a mountain lion attacks me while I’m training? Or, a bear? Is it possible to shoot a gun from a bike? Now, all I can think about is that documentary I watched about that mountain biker and the mountain lion. . . 

What was I thinking? What am I doing? Who the heck do I think I even am? 

Breathe. 

Many paths to one Race. 

* * * * *

Yesterday I found myself down a YouTube rabbit hole. Click. Click. Click. One video after another about all the worries, curiosities, oddities, and interests floating around in my head and heart these days, some bicycle related, others not so much. And then the algorithm landed me on Kit Pascoe’s channel. She shares all about the joys of cycling and being outdoors. I found myself watching video after video for hours. When I was done with the longer ones, I watched the short ones. Even though we had just “met” on a one-way platform, I felt like she saw me. All of my insecurities and joys and fears and excitement around bicycles and cycling. Like, she crawled into my head and made herself cozy in there with her very relatable experiences and cool British accent.  

She talked about riding her bicycle. Just riding. Not racing. (Though she does participate in races). Just riding. And, then about races she says signing up for races pushes us because they are difficult and we don’t want to do difficult things, but then we do them and we feel different about ourselves – in good ways. Like my friend has been saying to me, “We find our limits and we push into them”. 

* * * * *

Many paths to one Ride.

So, what if I show up on race day to ride my bike instead of race my bike? What if I show up to have fun and find myself cheering on others, while others cheer me on (something Kit talks about with her “race” experiences). What if it’s not about placing or winning because both are unpredictable and races don’t require certain standards to participate in them unless it’s the Olympics (again, all Kit). You sign your waiver, pay your fee, and you’re in alongside everyone else who signed the same waivers and paid the same fees (thanks for this insight, too, Kit).

What if I don’t need fancy equipment or extensive preparation? What if a mountain lion does show up? Actually, let’s not think about that. What if I can’t get up that big climb, or down that steep descent without walking my bike? Wouldn’t be the first time. What if it turns out others walk their bikes, too? And, so what if my Leo does decide to show up and push into her limits? What if she wants to roar and I let her because it turns out her roar is just riding. An average woman pushing into her pink pedals and living blissfully on two wheels. 

I ride for the privilege to ride. I ride to feel my Five Tens pushing into my pedals under my feet, and the wheels on the Earth. I ride for sunrises, sunsets, blue skies, and pelting rain. I ride because hills scare me and teach me lessons. I ride because I secretly like to go fast. I ride because socks half way up my calves look cool, and mud on my legs tells me it was a good day in the saddle. I ride because I say I can’t, then I do, and I ride some more. I ride for opportunities to see black bears, prairie dogs, cows, and even be chased by graying black labs. I ride to chase down birds, to dodge rocks, to roll over rocks, and to find my balance. I ride because it gives me time to pray and connect with my higher power. I ride because it feels good and fun in my mind, body, and soul. I ride because it allows me to see more of the world around me, and have cool conversations with cool bike shop guys everywhere I go. I ride because I want to.

I ride for love of the ride. 

Many paths to one Ride.