Gambler’s Classic
Last week at this time, I was thinking about the next morning and getting on my bike. I was thinking about whether I would fail miserably in riding a bicycle 95 miles in the Vegas desert. I was thinking and wondering if my body would hurt too much to go any further than the usual 30 miles I am used to riding. I was thinking, also, about the many people with MS who have these kind of thoughts about just getting around.
On Saturday and Sunday, the first weekend in November, I got all of my gear ready at 5:30 a.m. and packed it all up in my van at the hotel in downtown Las Vegas and I drove the Las Vegas Speedway. It was there that thinking time was over and riding time had arrived. Scared but excited, I pulled on all of the gear preparing for the cool Nevada morning. I was grinning because I could hardly believe the time had arrived and I was eager to get moving, but also because my friend LaVerne has the most contagious, dimpled grin in the world--how could one NOT grin?
Soon after getting ready to ride in the dark and the sun was peeking over the horizon, we were greeted by a warm, friendly-faced lady who introduced herself as Rexine. Rexine didn't know a single one of us, yet she awakened and drove to the Speedway at 6 a.m. because her sister, MaryAnn McCallister rides with us in Phoenix and told her we were going to be there. You see, Rexine's son, Ryan, died just over a year ago from complications of multiple sclerosis at the young age of 32. He lived with the disease since he was just about 14. Rexine's enthusiasm and warmth touched us as she photographed all 11 of us from Arizona bearing the photo of her late son, whom we were riding in honor of. Her visit was the perfect encouragement to a reluctant long distance cyclist like me.
Over the next two days, we would battle terrific winds that made it feel like we were pedalling uphill on a stationary bicycle. We would marvel at the wonderful red rocks of the Valley of Fire as we sailed downhill on our bikes. We would gobble nuts, bars, fruit and God knows what else to keep our energy strong. We would use self-talk up the hills; we would smile and think how lucky we were to be alive as we careened down hills.
I no longer think of myself as a woman who has a bike and rides.
I am a cyclist.
Last week at this time, I was thinking about the next morning and getting on my bike. I was thinking about whether I would fail miserably in riding a bicycle 95 miles in the Vegas desert. I was thinking and wondering if my body would hurt too much to go any further than the usual 30 miles I am used to riding. I was thinking, also, about the many people with MS who have these kind of thoughts about just getting around.
On Saturday and Sunday, the first weekend in November, I got all of my gear ready at 5:30 a.m. and packed it all up in my van at the hotel in downtown Las Vegas and I drove the Las Vegas Speedway. It was there that thinking time was over and riding time had arrived. Scared but excited, I pulled on all of the gear preparing for the cool Nevada morning. I was grinning because I could hardly believe the time had arrived and I was eager to get moving, but also because my friend LaVerne has the most contagious, dimpled grin in the world--how could one NOT grin?
Soon after getting ready to ride in the dark and the sun was peeking over the horizon, we were greeted by a warm, friendly-faced lady who introduced herself as Rexine. Rexine didn't know a single one of us, yet she awakened and drove to the Speedway at 6 a.m. because her sister, MaryAnn McCallister rides with us in Phoenix and told her we were going to be there. You see, Rexine's son, Ryan, died just over a year ago from complications of multiple sclerosis at the young age of 32. He lived with the disease since he was just about 14. Rexine's enthusiasm and warmth touched us as she photographed all 11 of us from Arizona bearing the photo of her late son, whom we were riding in honor of. Her visit was the perfect encouragement to a reluctant long distance cyclist like me.
Over the next two days, we would battle terrific winds that made it feel like we were pedalling uphill on a stationary bicycle. We would marvel at the wonderful red rocks of the Valley of Fire as we sailed downhill on our bikes. We would gobble nuts, bars, fruit and God knows what else to keep our energy strong. We would use self-talk up the hills; we would smile and think how lucky we were to be alive as we careened down hills.
I no longer think of myself as a woman who has a bike and rides.
I am a cyclist.
Labels: cycling - A Women's Sport
posted by Luvgr8mnds at 2:24 PM
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