I Get To
It was 5:30 a.m. The fifth week out of six that I (well, "we", which includes my sherpa husband, by default) 'had to" get up on Saturday morning to ride our bikes for five hours or more. This was the ninth month that 'I had to' ride every Saturday and run every Sunday - in addition to the other five days that 'I had to' do a workout or two daily.
It has always warmed my soul to wake up and walk in our living room and see the twinkling waters of Lake Austin dancing under the moon and lakeside lights. Just thinking about it I get that sensation in my bones of what it's like to be out on the water at this time, waiting for sunrise to get that first morning ski run or SUP ride in. The lake calls me this time of day. But on bike and run mornings like these have been, instead of turning right and heading to the dock, I'm turning left because 'I have to' go ride my bike, so i head down the hall, grab my gel flasks and water bottles and venture out to Lord knows where to ride my bike for umpteen hours or run up and down the ranch road for a couple.
As we all know, this summer has been, well, rather hot. The hottest in history. That certainly makes these long bike rides more of a 'have to' when spending the day on the lake would be much more enjoyable. In the meantime, there's nothing like finding yourself on some Williamson county road calculating how much water and how many salt tabs it will take to get you back to a General Store to refill. And in our case, Steve is always low on water, so rationing mine out to get him back requires even more calculations. As we have learned over the past three or four hundred miles (yes, dear, that is what you have ridden over the past few weeks) Steve's tendency to over heat - and cramp - in 100+ degree weather - is rather high...thus, requiring even more water rations and more General Store stops. All of this and then to look forward to getting home to an early afternoon asphalt transition run. Purgatory.
So when the weather forecast predicted highs to be 112 on our ride a few weeks ago (and that doesn't come close to the highs that the blacktop radiates onto you) plus, Kelly had me/us slated for a 100 mile ride, Steve very firmly said we were going to start our ride at 4 a.m. I smiled and let him rant, knowing he was secretly calculating the number of 'our' water bottles this would take him. After he went on for a few days about it, I began to take him more seriously and suggested 5:30 might be a better option so we would have enough battery in our lights to get us to daylight. He quietly agreed and had our bikes rigged and ready to roll at 5:30.
To the beam of our headlights we mashed the pedals to climb our grueling driveway, out Quinlan and off to 620 we rolled. Steve still rides behind me "where it is safe" and his brighter light shone around me like a train light in a tunnel...with a cyclist in front of it; a huge, much larger than life, oversized me that shadowed out in front of my bike like a black abyss, and I was riding right into it, haloed by Steve's super-duper, super bright LED light. I hoped his view was better than mine.
But it was cool. And it was peaceful. Not much traffic at this time of day on a Saturday. As I rode trustingly into the large, looming blacker than black shadow of me, I was also thinking of how there probably wasn't much traffic on the lake either...as opposed to here, where there were bumpy obstacles like holes, nails, rocks, glass and whatever else Friday night drivers might have left on the roadside shoulder for me to not see.
It was during those thoughts that from the side of 620 and Anderson Mill I was abruptly interrupted by a simultaneous "cockadoodledoo" and the loudest, deepest "heehawheehawheehaw" that I've heard in some time. Jack Ass. It was quite obvious that he was ranting about our morning 'to do' list as well.
On we rode. Six a.m. Six-thirty a.m. Six fourth-five...and aaahhh. Sunrise. Beautiful. God's daily message to me that no matter what happened yesterday, today is a new day and tomorrow will be, too.
The sunrise was amazing. Oranges, violets, and pinks painted the sky. Then, through the watercolors, the reddish-orange fireball began to peak over the horizon. Gosh, it did look like fire. As it rose you could feel the intensity of the heat begin radiating. I was quickly brought back to reality that the heat was on and it was going to be a long, slow ride on this record heat breaking day.
Twenty miles down, eighty to go. And the fire ball had just tacked on about 15 degrees. Nice. Steve was right, perhaps we should have started at 4 a.m. in order to get this 'must do' bike ride in. My desire was heading south.
We passed the last stop light and headed our bikes out the small county roads north. The traffic became less, the houses more sparse and the view began to open up for miles. The rolling country side carried our bikes past ranch land and pastures; past livestock, longhorns and horses waking up and roaming their lands. We passed an old family cemetery and hair-pinned our bikes back to the the west into the rising sun. I looked up at the Hill Country landscape into the silhouette of an old, iconic Texas windmill, and my 'I have to do this' attitude did an about face. "I Get To" do this, I realized. In a state I treasure, doing a sport I enjoy, with a person I love, with a body that is able, connected to a community that cares for a purpose that is bigger than all of us.
"I Get To." Suddenly I was sitting a little taller. My shoulders didn't hurt as much. My grip lightened. My cadence increased with ease. My breathing came slower, deeper, purer. My mind relaxed and released. "I Get To." No longer was I out on a bike ride because I had to, but it was now an opportunity, a freedom, a purpose, a choice.
The remaining sixty miles clicked off without a hitch because "I Got To" have a snack at the next General Store with Steve, turn around and ride back to the first General Store enjoying the country scenery, then head home for the last thirty miles thinking about what I was going to "Get" to do after I "Got" to do my run in the middle of the day in record-breaking heat. And even that wasn't so bad. Through the week lots of things weren't so bad. "I Got To" spend time with Cade doing school work, spend time with Colt driving through traffic from school, have a glass of wine and cook a good dinner, wake up early to spend time with training group friends and share the gift of community and outdoor activity. Really? "I Get To" do all of this?
Embracing these three words made all the difference in my world.
It has always warmed my soul to wake up and walk in our living room and see the twinkling waters of Lake Austin dancing under the moon and lakeside lights. Just thinking about it I get that sensation in my bones of what it's like to be out on the water at this time, waiting for sunrise to get that first morning ski run or SUP ride in. The lake calls me this time of day. But on bike and run mornings like these have been, instead of turning right and heading to the dock, I'm turning left because 'I have to' go ride my bike, so i head down the hall, grab my gel flasks and water bottles and venture out to Lord knows where to ride my bike for umpteen hours or run up and down the ranch road for a couple.
As we all know, this summer has been, well, rather hot. The hottest in history. That certainly makes these long bike rides more of a 'have to' when spending the day on the lake would be much more enjoyable. In the meantime, there's nothing like finding yourself on some Williamson county road calculating how much water and how many salt tabs it will take to get you back to a General Store to refill. And in our case, Steve is always low on water, so rationing mine out to get him back requires even more calculations. As we have learned over the past three or four hundred miles (yes, dear, that is what you have ridden over the past few weeks) Steve's tendency to over heat - and cramp - in 100+ degree weather - is rather high...thus, requiring even more water rations and more General Store stops. All of this and then to look forward to getting home to an early afternoon asphalt transition run. Purgatory.
So when the weather forecast predicted highs to be 112 on our ride a few weeks ago (and that doesn't come close to the highs that the blacktop radiates onto you) plus, Kelly had me/us slated for a 100 mile ride, Steve very firmly said we were going to start our ride at 4 a.m. I smiled and let him rant, knowing he was secretly calculating the number of 'our' water bottles this would take him. After he went on for a few days about it, I began to take him more seriously and suggested 5:30 might be a better option so we would have enough battery in our lights to get us to daylight. He quietly agreed and had our bikes rigged and ready to roll at 5:30.
To the beam of our headlights we mashed the pedals to climb our grueling driveway, out Quinlan and off to 620 we rolled. Steve still rides behind me "where it is safe" and his brighter light shone around me like a train light in a tunnel...with a cyclist in front of it; a huge, much larger than life, oversized me that shadowed out in front of my bike like a black abyss, and I was riding right into it, haloed by Steve's super-duper, super bright LED light. I hoped his view was better than mine.
But it was cool. And it was peaceful. Not much traffic at this time of day on a Saturday. As I rode trustingly into the large, looming blacker than black shadow of me, I was also thinking of how there probably wasn't much traffic on the lake either...as opposed to here, where there were bumpy obstacles like holes, nails, rocks, glass and whatever else Friday night drivers might have left on the roadside shoulder for me to not see.
It was during those thoughts that from the side of 620 and Anderson Mill I was abruptly interrupted by a simultaneous "cockadoodledoo" and the loudest, deepest "heehawheehawheehaw" that I've heard in some time. Jack Ass. It was quite obvious that he was ranting about our morning 'to do' list as well.
On we rode. Six a.m. Six-thirty a.m. Six fourth-five...and aaahhh. Sunrise. Beautiful. God's daily message to me that no matter what happened yesterday, today is a new day and tomorrow will be, too.
The sunrise was amazing. Oranges, violets, and pinks painted the sky. Then, through the watercolors, the reddish-orange fireball began to peak over the horizon. Gosh, it did look like fire. As it rose you could feel the intensity of the heat begin radiating. I was quickly brought back to reality that the heat was on and it was going to be a long, slow ride on this record heat breaking day.
Twenty miles down, eighty to go. And the fire ball had just tacked on about 15 degrees. Nice. Steve was right, perhaps we should have started at 4 a.m. in order to get this 'must do' bike ride in. My desire was heading south.
We passed the last stop light and headed our bikes out the small county roads north. The traffic became less, the houses more sparse and the view began to open up for miles. The rolling country side carried our bikes past ranch land and pastures; past livestock, longhorns and horses waking up and roaming their lands. We passed an old family cemetery and hair-pinned our bikes back to the the west into the rising sun. I looked up at the Hill Country landscape into the silhouette of an old, iconic Texas windmill, and my 'I have to do this' attitude did an about face. "I Get To" do this, I realized. In a state I treasure, doing a sport I enjoy, with a person I love, with a body that is able, connected to a community that cares for a purpose that is bigger than all of us.
"I Get To." Suddenly I was sitting a little taller. My shoulders didn't hurt as much. My grip lightened. My cadence increased with ease. My breathing came slower, deeper, purer. My mind relaxed and released. "I Get To." No longer was I out on a bike ride because I had to, but it was now an opportunity, a freedom, a purpose, a choice.
The remaining sixty miles clicked off without a hitch because "I Got To" have a snack at the next General Store with Steve, turn around and ride back to the first General Store enjoying the country scenery, then head home for the last thirty miles thinking about what I was going to "Get" to do after I "Got" to do my run in the middle of the day in record-breaking heat. And even that wasn't so bad. Through the week lots of things weren't so bad. "I Got To" spend time with Cade doing school work, spend time with Colt driving through traffic from school, have a glass of wine and cook a good dinner, wake up early to spend time with training group friends and share the gift of community and outdoor activity. Really? "I Get To" do all of this?
Embracing these three words made all the difference in my world.
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