Tomorrow, I'm doing a century ride called the Reston Century. It's both a favorite ride AND, on many levels, one that I never really know how it will go.
Based on all local reports, up until 2 minutes ago--yes, I'm checking regularly--the weather looks to be spot on: low to upper 80s with low humidity, which is incredible for the DC area this time of year.
The course itself offers spectacular views of wide-open spaces, grassy knolls, rolling fields, assortments of grazing farm animals, historic towns and architecture, and beautifully chiseled mountains. It also includes consecutive hills--fortunately, steep inclines do get rewarded with equal descents.
Century rides feel particularly inviting to me. I love that they are not a race and that people can pace themselves as fast or as slow (as long as you get in by a certain time) as they choose. I love that people from all walks (and rides) of life take time out to ride together around the area (whatever the area) in roughly the same direction with the same objective for hours on end. I love that there are options for distance and skill. I love that there are people making sure that you and your bike are properly fueled and hydrated and mechanically sound.
This ride, in particular, clearly is much loved but it is also physically and mentally challenging for me. It brings me back for all of the above reasons and many others and, like a good book, teaches me something new each time. For me on this ride, there are internal climbs that I always find myself facing and, going, despite it, is often the bigger challenge. I've been riding and reflecting a fair amount, but still, I never really know whether the distances I have travelled (paved or spiritual) are enough to prepare me. I suppose that all I can do is be present to and thankful for the views along the way.
No comments:
Post a Comment