Wuss or Warrior

I'm one of those irritating people that sets her mind on doing something and works her ass off to reach her goal. I don't believe in failure, it's not in my vocabulary, it's not something I have much experience with.

When I decided to do something I hurl myself towards the goal at top speed.  I'm focused, I confident and I have always been successful in my endeavors. It's not always easy, but I like hard work, I think it builds character...and anyone who knows me will attest to the fact that I am quite a character.

I always have a plan, and a contingency plan...and a contingency plan for the contingency plan.  Above all, I'm prepared.

But now, for the first time ever, despite my gut wrenching desire and hard work I think I may not be able to reach my goal and I'm not happy about it...not one little bit.

It seems that I am no longer a spring chick who bounces back from injury, and to be be honest, that really pisses me off.  I've heard older people moan about aches and pains but never....EVER...imagined I'd be one of them. Yet every morning when I stand on my right foot a moan escapes my lips because of the pain.

The training ride I went on last Saturday made me face the fact that I'm no longer 20 years old, my throbbing foot telling me in no uncertain terms that I was DONE riding for the day...and it pissed me off.

I'm not a quitter...it's just not in my make-up.  So I iced my foot and decided I'd get up at the break of dawn and ride Sunday morning. The only problem was when I woke up in the middle of the night and tried to sit up every muscle in my body screamed. I lay down in bed, caught my breath, then c-r-a-w-l-e-d out of bed and to the bathroom for a hot shower.

Getting old sucks....it beats the hell out of the alternative... but it still sucks.

I may be committed to my goals, but I'm not stupid, so I listened to my body and didn't ride Sunday, and because I was still sore I didn't ride Monday, but every so often my gaze would drift to my bike and I longed to be back in the saddle, wind blowing through my hair, peddles turning as the miles flew by, instead of laying on the couch, foot packed in ice, so sore I could hardly move...feeling like a great big giant wuss.

The realization that riding 100 miles in a single day may be something my body cannot physically accomplish has me (to quote an old Millie Jackson song) depressed as shit. All the work...all the pain...all the damn shots...for what? To NOT accomplish what I set out to do? To NOT flip a great big giant bird to diabetes as I cross the finish line? To be beaten by this flipping disease AGAIN?

I talked to two special people about my feelings of failure; my coach Chuck, who has ridden the Ride to Cure twelve times...and our kinda sorta team captain Moira, who inspired me to join the ride this year. Both gave me excellent advise.

Chuck said the goal of the ride is to raise money for diabetes research...and I've done that. I've reached my goal so it doesn't matter if I ride 1 mile or 100...I've still succeeded in what I set out to do. He's not trying to deter me from riding...not at all, he's just being truthful about the pitfalls of riding while injured.

Moira had similar advise, adding the next time I go riding I shouldn't worry about speed or miles, I should just experience the joy of riding, because in the end we'll either ride the 100 miles or we won't, but no matter how far I ride it will be an amazing and beautiful experience crossing the finish line...if I let it be. She pointed out the importance of savoring our mission...to raise money to find a CURE for diabetes...to work together as a team...making a better future for our children. Then she reminded me of what I told her many times last year...the ride isn't about doing the 100 miles, it's about trying our hardest, giving our all the day of the ride, but knowing no matter how far we ride we are warriors.

That Moira is one wise woman.

So here's what I'm going to do....

I'm going to get on my bike every chance I have between now and August 17th and I'm going to train my ass off, and on the day of the ride I'm going to ride as far as the weather and my injuries allow me to ride.  It may be 1 mile...or 50 miles...or all 100 miles, but however long it is I WILL cross that finish line with a smile on my face because I gave this ride 110%, and that's all anyone can do.

And I hope that someone captures that moment on film, because if you look beyond the big smile and the tears I know will be streaming down my face, you'll see my hand up in the air...flipping diabetes a great big freaking bird.