So that was a long way of telling you that I am going to bring up another Mormon thing today because I think it is apt because it is Sunday and all that. There's a guy named Lehi in the Book of Mormon who supposedly told his son Jacob that "there must needs be opposition in all things." This is not a concept unique to Lehi, it runs through all sorts of religions, but basically without good, you can't have bad. Without bran flakes, fruity pebbles lose their appeal. Without some of us being afraid of going downhill fast on our bikes, you couldn't have other people who love it so much. (maybe that last one doesn't quite work but you get the idea)
So today is a series of stories about opposites.
At one point (sorry Dr.) I was feeling peeved at Nathan. I don't like knowing exactly how far there is to go (except in race situations when I really, really want to know). I especially don't like it when I am not feeling great or the task is unpleasant. When I worked at Red Lobster and Macaroni Grill in high school, I would try to avoid looking at my watch or the clock because I felt like not knowing made the time go by faster. The whole watched pot thing.
But then, not too long after telling us that we were 1/3 of the way done with the ride and 1/4 of the way done with the climbing (I think) Nathan pulled us on a long, gradual descent with some tailwind at about 73mph for at least an hour. And then when we passed a "ride and fly" festival, there was a finish line and Nathan posted up like Edvald Boasson-Hagen and it was tremendous and I loved him for it and forgave him for being helpful and me being annoyed at him being helpful.
(Actually a re-enactment of the original post-up that he did when we rolled onto the gravel descent but also a preview of the later post-up at the airshow.)
Today had more climbing than yesterday, or the day before, more climbing than tomorrow, just more. And that was worrisome. I felt like yesterday went pretty well and then I was afraid that today would be something of a disaster for me. I know part of this is me sand-bagging but I've had some rough days on long rides the day after long rides so it wasn't just that...
Anyway, I was nervous. And stuff didn't always feel great, my feet hurt, I couldn't find a comfortable position for my hands all day, my drinks weren't always cold (seriously once I complain about one thing, the absurdity of complaining at all about this whole endeavor is readily apparent but bear with me please), and there were moments like when we started out flying after lunch and I was doing 400 watts to try and catch back on behind flying Brian Howles that I struggled.
But then we went up the last big climb of the day and I managed to stay pretty close to the smooth, ridiculously relaxed (and fast) climbing Brian. And it felt good to dig deep a little bit and feel like there was still power down in there. There is an immense satisfaction that comes when you ask your body for something and it responds, particularly because you know you've worked hard to make it capable of doing such things.
Which is part of the paradox of this whole trip that is so fascinating. Because asking your body to do something, especially something like going up a climb chasing Brian Howles towards the end of day 3 of 100+ miles a day of riding and having it actually do it is the exact opposite of being sick, of having your body betray you, whether it is cancer or any other kind of illness.
We are doing this physically challenging thing and in doing so trying to help provide mental health care for people dealing with that horrific betrayal where instead of doing what you ask it to, your body is destroying itself.
So it makes sense.
Because when you roll into town and find the Howles clan holding up signs and cheering you on and telling you that it matters, it makes today into the opposite of the terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day.
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