Becoming Something You're Not

I am a runner.  I am not fast but I am steadfast and I love to run.  I love the predictable pace, and head clearing post run clarity.  A few weeks ago my friend Ed asked me to go on a bike ride and I agreed.  My pride took over.  My boredom superseded.  My guilt about a perfectly good red mountain bike sitting unused on my porch overwhelmed me.  I agreed to meet him for an early morning ride.

The first morning I couldn't find my helmet and deemed this unimportant until a truck nearly plowed me down as I merged out of my driveway.  En-route to Ed's house my pant leg nearly caught in the gears and while I swerved to fix the problem mid pedal I nearly ran over the carcass of a decomposing dog on the side of the highway.

Ed loaned me a helmet and some riding gloves.  He oiled my chain, raised my seat and asked for the combination of the bike lock I hadn't used in a year.  We departed towards the mountains and I remembered that ride a bike offers a wonderful sense of freedom.  We crossed traffic traversing a narrow back street.  I cockily sped uphill congratulating myself on my level of cardiovascular fitness.  As the hill peaked I choked swallowing buckets of misplaced pride.  The steep downhill was a paved death wish.

I refused.  An out of control race to the bottom and a certain superman over the handle bars followed by road rash was not in cards.  I walked down every hill sheepishly remembering I hated all sports involving wild out of control speed.

Ed was patient.  As we biked through tiny villages he provided tips on shifting gears.  We criss-crossed dirt switch back climbing in altitude and he celebrated my small victories.  "You almost made it up without walking," he cheered.  The scenery from the mountains was a serene contrast to the constant dirt and din of Kathmandu.  At the end of the ride I agreed to try it again next week and the following week I managed to bike down every threatening downhill without dismounting.

Today we road up and up and up.  Every steep incline I tried to repeat my inner mantra, "This is easy, you can do it."  I fell off my bike once and it took 20 minutes to remount.  When I rolled up to my gate I felt sick.  Every ounce of me was exhausted.  Two hours of endless hills had taken its toll.  My quads quivered from exhaustion and my hands cramped from my death grip on the breaks.  I walked in and lied down on my driveway.  JAC crawled over my body as I lay flailed out on the warms stones.  The alarmed gardener called for the housekeeper to bring water.  I wanted to never move from that spot.  I felt horrible and brave.  I felt accomplished and tired.  Mainly I felt sick and I remember in my exhaustive state, why I am a runner.  Biking is really hard.

I am not a biker but I love really hard things.  Next week I will once again attempt to master the foothills of Kathmandu and remind myself, "This is easy.  You can do it."  Hard things make you so much better and stronger.  I hope you get to fight your way up a mountain today and enjoy the accomplishment while lying exhausted on your driveway.  Happy Friday.