One More Hill

There are times when I ride that I try to see how fast I can go. There are other times that I decide to make it a test of endurance. I was getting tired of riding ten miles and so, this Saturday morning, I decided to test how far I had come by seeing how far I could go.

I have intentionally planned my routes so that there are places I can turn around and head back home, in case I am not feeling up to a long ride. This morning I found myself bypassing the turn offs and riding on roads that I have not ridden in a year. By the time I hit the nine-mile mark, I was committed. I was also out of gas. I stopped on a side street to drink some water and catch my breath. I was trying to decide whether I should call DeLayne to come get me. But I felt that if I gave up now, cancer would win one. I decided that if it took me all day to finish the ride, that's what I would do. Determined, I clipped my feet back on the pedals and continued my ride.

At mile fifteen, I had reached the next to last intersection on the home stretch. I had stopped for the red light and there staring at me, barely a half mile away, was one more hill to climb. I hate this hill! I have to climb this hill on every ride and it is always a struggle. I could hear it taunting me this morning - "You don't have the legs left today." The light turned green, and the first few pedal strokes felt like I was riding in wet concrete. Once I reached the start of the hill, I had to grit my teeth, and it took every bit of what I had left to get up and over, but before I knew it, I was coasting toward home.

As I rode up to our front walk, the odometer clicked to seventeen miles. Half of what I use to do on Saturdays but seven more than usual; I was happy with the effort and did a very sad, weak happy dance. I had once again proven to myself that I may have cancer, but cancer does not have me.