I have been biking quite a lot lately. I’ve been on the road (as opposed to the trail) to build up my endurance. Road biking is pretty cool. It’s not nearly as tedious as I envisioned. I can map out different routes depending on how I feel, or how long I have, and see something different every day. I try to stick to the less traveled roads for safety’s sake. Aside from the occasional nice view, road biking is basically ups and downs. In the area around my house it seems that I am either coasting down a hill or struggling up one. This I love and hate. It is an amazing feeling to be pedaling furiously up a steep hill, clicking into a lower gear, while the bike is only advancing inches, head down, all muscles united in a common goal; to crest that hill. I will note tiny landmarks, “just make it to that mailbox, that rock, that driveway.” I question constantly if I will actually make it without stopping. I promise myself that I’ll drink water and rest at the top. I decide to have ice cream after dinner. I pedal until all that matters is climbing that hill and all other thought is gone. But suddenly, I’ve done it. It’s odd because the whole time I’m thinking that I can’t, I am actually doing it. I did it while trying to talk myself out of it.
Road biking is also nice because after the up hills, there is undoubtedly a nice rest opportunity as I glide down the other side. A time to catch my breath and stretch one leg at a time. This never happens in mountain biking. But that’s another post.