Author: lief

I am all but caught up with the goings on around here.
The last big event worth my time at a computer is our annual camping trip to Dash Point.

Last year you may remember as The Year Of The Spider. If that is so then this year is The Year Of The Hammock.

I won this hammock some years ago at a gift exchange and The Mommy found it this year while packing. Perfect.
Except for one little thing – our site didn’t have great anchor points. So I did the best I could and wound up with a slightly unstable, taffy-wrapper.
It was good for playing in but not great for sleeping in.

LaGrande Mermaid proved that on the first night when I acquiesced to her demands. Along about o’dark thirty I was awakened by a little mermaid propped up in a sitting position on the cold hard reality called ground.

Daddy!?
Wha…huuu..Are you okay?
Yeah.
[sigh] You fell out of the hammock allright.
No I didn’t.
Oh, you got out then? Why’d you do that?
I didn’t…
What? Well then why are you on the ground?
I’m not.
Mermaid, Look…[pointing at the empty hammock]…are you still in it?
Yeah.
What? Look at it.
[long look at the the empty hammock and now gesticulating with her hands]
Daddy, this might sound funny but…I didn’t get out.
Honey, you are sitting on the ground.
No I’m not look!

And she proceeded to flop down onto the “hammock” of rocks and stickery bushes underneath the real hammock.
When I told her to get up her voice and line of reasoning changed gears suddenly into “I’m freezing” and more common-sensical complaints of a night.
Nowwww, she’s with me.

I put her in the tent and only two other people fell out of that hammock the rest of the weekend – none while sleeping. The Mommy never got in it.

We enjoyed one of the smokier fires on record…all weekend…and suffered only a small smattering of mosquitos to prove it.

The t-shirt I am wearing tonight, two weeks later, has been through the wash twice and continues to repel even the hardiest bugs..

It wasn’t all fun and games – there was sunscreen to put on, hair to comb, and treats upon cookies upon candies to NEEEEEEEEEDD…and deny.

But in the scheme of things, the good times far outweighed the nasty looks.

With the weather so good, warm, and sunny, we were on the beach often making sandcastles, sculpturing mermaid tails and Ursula tentacles, throwing Mermaids “up high”…

…and having seaweed fights. In the following sequence you can see the result of my dare

You can’t get me with that seaweed…I dare you.

I successfully avoided the splatter for many minutes. I REALLY didn’t want to get that nasty slimy stuff on me.
Unfortunately my memory and attention span is short. LaGrande’s – not so much.
The Mommy captured the sequence on film.

I have also recently made a similar bet.
I bet LaGrande Mermaid that she would be unable to startle me – I confessed that these many years of “startles” were contrived for her benefit and that I have only been successfully startled a handful of times in my adult life.
She has my word that if she is successful I will own up to it, and tell the story, on this blog. The gauntlet has been tossed.

Lucky for me, I don’t really have to remember that she’s gunning for me – I count on my well-dulled sense of danger to save me. If I were a caveman I would probably have been eaten by a Sabre-toothed tiger I just assumed was Thlog trying to scare me.

Before the batteries on our respective cameras went dead for the remainder of the weekend I adequately captured The Year of the Hammock – dirty feet and all.
LaGrande on one side making fish-faces and TheWeeOne on the other laughing her scales off..

If the major story of the weekend was the hammock, then I got a minor in Raccoon.

One night, late, a raccoon started poking around our site. I shooed him off and went back to sleep. At dawn he found the edge of his territory, and perhaps another raccoon. The resulting sounds, and the headlong escape crashing through the underbrush jump-started my heart. When I popped up here was a medium-sized raccoon barreling across the campsite right at my face (I sleep under the stars). I did the only thing a full grown man threatened by a stark-raving-mad-wild-animal would do.

Didja grin ‘im down?
No.
Didja swat him aside with’a back a yer hand?
No.
Well…whadja do then?

I roared at him like an enraged lion and skeered him off.
He saw the light and knew he was beaten so he veered hard right and made for the tallest tree.

My hackles were still raised when TheMommy quickly unzipped her fortress and poked out.

What the heck was that?!!
Just a raccoon [I said “calmly”]
Really!? Wow. It sounded just like a pig!

The “afterimage” of sound still ringing in my ears proved that my cavernous and tremendous lion-like roar came out more like a squealing…cornered…runt…pig.

No matter: Raccoons don’t know what a lion sounds like.

Hey you wanna ride around Mt. Rainier this summer?
Ok.
In one day?
What?!…um…wait…how far is it? Wait, I dunno. Why?
C’mon, it’s called the RAMROD and it’s like a hundred and eighty miles or some crazy thing and TheDancer’s husband did it with like no training. There’ll be support and…
No he didn’t.
Well he said he did – and the best part of the whole thing is that there is this hill, like at mile 150 or something that goes for like 10 miles. It’s supposed to be really…
WHAT?!!
Yeah – it’ll be fun, c’mon. Besides…I kinda like climbing hills.
No you don’t.
Yes I do. I actually kinda enjoy the…..
NO YOU DON’T – nobody, and I mean NOBODY, likes climbing hills. And if you think I’m ever gonna believe you you’re nuts.
[[long pause]]
[together]I think we’re gonna need some better bikes.

Fast forward (and I do mean FAST) a lot of life, 5 children, three-ish STP’s, countless commutes, weekend rides, four houses, four bikes, and at least one separated shoulder and we come to a scene from last winter when TheFed’s wife, let’s call her Sweep, sat him down and said something like this

If you think you are ever going to do this whole RAMROD thing you better do it this summer.
Why?
‘Cause I’m pregnant and you aren’t gonna leave me alone with all four any time soon.
uhhhhh
And you aren’t getting any younger.
gruglugeulguuolug

That put this business in high gear and TheFed started training, with a buddy, on a LOT of hills. I already had a decent level of bicycle fitness because I commute nearly every day between 12 and 34 miles so I felt that I could lollygag a little bit and…well…we have the pain of the aforementioned LiveStrong challenge to prove it.
I did better after that and TheFed was clearly in great shape.

You know, I must be feeling really saucy or something because I could just go on setting up this story all blog long and before we know it another nine years would pass before I got this post on the road.

[[record scratching sound]]

July 20, 2010
TheMommy, myself, TheFed, and Sweep (8 months pregnant) got up at oh-dark-thirty on July 20th, pile into my SwaggerWagon and make our way to the start line for a 05:00 send off. The girls were committed to being our support all day. I don’t recall the last time, or if ever, the four of us spent that much time together without our kids. That in itself was a feat.

The Start
At 05:20 we are on our way in the crisp morning air.

The typical beginning-of-the-ride jokes, sarcasm, and mock jinxes follow the sunrise

Only 153 more miles to go!
It’s not so cold!
Do I have a flat already?

To Eatonville
We travelled at a good pace down 410 and 165 leaving Enumclaw bound for Eatonville.. The girls missed an early morning turn and barely missed a stray herd of horses on Pioneer Ave so we saw them twice before we hit our first scheduled stop.

It was in this early morning light that our most interesting extra-bicyclular antics took place.
The first was a strange beast of a dog, just before the MiniMart in Kapowsin ([insidejoke]theeeeahhh Root Beeeahh[/endinsidejoke]) that must have been part pitbull and part whippet. He lit out after me for being near his turf and as I was already doing a steady 17mph I felt I had the jump on him – but he cranked it up and I fast realized I wasn’t going to escape his grip. An overanxious passing driver came around just then and sent that dog’s ears straight back, missed that bedraggled hide by mere inches, and saved me a trip to the ER for a tetanus shot.

Shortly later, next to Kapowsin lake, a confused doe stood in the middle of our path observing our approach. She departed unhurriedly, but when I got a little too close her saunter turned into a bounding dash and she crashed off into the bushes. We didn’t have any other problems, of this sort, for the rest of the day.

We arrived in Eatonville whereupon I accidentally reset my computer. urgh.
No matter, I figured to reset my computer at each stop and watch our splits accordingly. I didn’t catch the first one.

After donuts we turned towards Alder Cutoff road and HWY 7.

To Ashford
This was our first real hill of the day and it was a good warmup, or so we thought. Pulling along Alder lake towards Ashford was a constant shallow rise. We both got quiet for a bit and admitted to each other that this was kicking our butts already and the steep part wasn’t even a glimmer yet. We pulled into Ashford feeling the first effects of our efforts. I recall that our split average was about 15mph.
A 20 minute rest in Ashford got our legs back under us and we set off for Longmire and the real climbing. The sky was still cloudy.

To Longmire
This portion quickly became beautiful when we crossed into the Mt. Rainier park and were told sarcastically that bears like moving targets. I took it sarcastically anyway.
The road was narrow, the trees were tall, and the sun started peeking out.

It got downright warm so at a big turnout near Longmire we shed some layers. We misjudged our appointed stopping spot, Sweep and TheMommy were further up the road, so when we saw them we happily unloaded our stretched jerseys and mistakenly (for me at least) failed to add SPF50 to now exposed arms. I also failed to grab a fresh bottle. The distance was about 65 miles and the time was about 10:00. I don’t recall the split on this stage.

To Paradise
After several short stops for peekaboo pictures of the now resplendent mountain we found ourselves on the hardest part of the day for me.

I noticed a strong hunger pang five miles from Paradise and I emptied my granola and water bottle into my grumbling belly. My energy level was close behind and I fell off the pace very quickly in the hot sun three miles from the top. 20 minutes and a little over a mile and a half later I recovered for the last push and TheFed allowed me to catch up.
Amazingly, after only two or three shared rides in the preceding 6 months, we were mostly well synched this day. As I recall our split for this 11 mile section was about 9 mph.
We made it with tired legs but a sense of confidence that outstripped our expectations.
The day was beautiful and we had passed stage one, halfway home.

I think I also put on about 4 pounds during our 90 minute lunch break. Strawberries, PBJ, chocolate milk, water, and I don’t remember much else except that my jaw was almost as strained as my thighs. The walk back to the SwaggerWagon didn’t really feel like ‘more’.

The coming descent did.

To Hwy123
The descent out of Paradise was perfect. Warm, easy, traffic-lite, and just a little bit edgy. Speed wasn’t the name of the game here – braking was.

The tight switchbacks, pock-marked pavement, street-width drainage grates, combined with VERY VERY steep dropoffs to our right meant that, one of us at least, had cramps in his hands from riding the brakes. Our rims got a little hot but the SwaggerWagon was running sweep this time (with Sweep at the wheel no less) and we got down the hill in good shape.

When the road was downgraded to “just a hill” the SwaggerWagon accelerated to the next meeting point. If only I had checked that intersection once more.
I meant to ensure that they met us at the start of the next real hill – instead I tagged the map with the END of the next real hill. And this hill is as real as it gets. Our split for this 22 mile section was north of a 25mph average.

To Cayuse
We didn’t realize my miscalculation until we were a mile or two into the climb. I knew the climb to Cayuse started right about mile 100 and after we crossed mile 102 it was obvious we were climbing something more than a small rise.

Well, one good thing is at least this grade is constant.
[[pause]]
Do you have any extra liquid? I’m out.
Yeah – I’ve got some Gatorade. Here.
Do you have any that’s cold?

I only wish I was clever enough for a comeback that good.
This section was over eight miles of constant 8% grades. Never more than 10-11% I would estimate, but nary a flat spot.
We stopped twice as I recall for the aforementioned liquid and for a simple breather about 2 miles from the top. It worked out well for us. And when we arrived – well, suffice it to say that Oreo cookies never tasted that good. The split wasn’t great but it didn’t matter – we were all but done. The remainder, a formality.

To Greenwater
The rest of the trip is cake. All downhill and wide open. There was a lot of traffic but a large shoulder. We cranked it up into a paceline, refreshed from our hiatus with chocolate wafers and the glorious creme filling and maintained something like 24 mph into a light headwind all the way into Greenwater. TheMommy and Sweep were waiting with sandwiches and pre-scoped bathrooms. I think we left Greenwater about 18:00 with only 24 miles to go. Average for the split was 24mph and change.

To Enumclaw
We did the same thing from Greenwater to Enumclaw – pacelining and easy pedalling over rolling hills. The only negative about this section was hitting a small snake on roadside but the early evening ride down Mud Mountain Road and the swooping last descent off of Mud Mountain Dam was like good music – it just rolls.

After only one small detour we finished at 19:30 with just over 14 hours elapsed time from the start.
We gratefully allowed our better halves to drive us home and ate just about everything left in the car – well not EVERYTHING. The girls were extraordinarily prepared.

The Epilogue
So there it is. Nine years in the making. 153 miles, around Mt. Rainier in one day with an overall average riding speed of 14.3 mph.
It was worth the wait and as hard as it was I’d do it again.

TheFed and I were in synch and an excellent riding partner. I could ask for better – he pushed me when he could and waited when I couldn’t. Gave his last drop of warm gatorade with a healthy dose of realism which kept me from rocketing off a cliff somewhere in a euphoric descent.

I am glad to have ridden with you buddy, it was the way it ought to be…but next time we’ll start from the house.

I’ve never had cancer and the most I have ridden my bike at once is 200 miles.
There are plenty of people more qualified than me on both counts to make the following comparison but I haven’t seen it.

Rather than look any more I will build this allegory myself.

Prologue
On June 20th I rode in the 2010 Livestrong Challenge. It is inspiring, period. At the start/finish line thousands of names are listed on every surface; on bikes, backs, arms, walls, signs, tires, cars – It isn’t easy to forget the reason we congregate but I can’t help but ponder why, at my core, I ride. It seems selfish but – I unthinkingly, just like to ride.

I started out early, had some good home-brew coffee, my staple toasted peanut butter sandwich and rode the 16 miles to the start, my prologue.
A fine morning if not gorgeous, it was a little crisp, with just a hint of pending moisture in the air. Warm enough that I only needed my Team Fatty jersey and one thin layer beneath. On the off-chance that the weatherman lied, and at the last minute, I had hastily taped a thin jacket underneath my seat.

Prediction – 20% chance of precipitation, highs in the mid 60’s. I could deal.

TheStart
I had plenty of time, which turned into almost no time, while I searched endlessly for a porta-potty to start the ride off right – things happened quickly after that. I found a place in line, ensured my gear was in place, endured the blaring speaker (again), and we were off.

At first I was content to “hasten slowly” through downtown with the rest of the pack. I started well off the front, but on 5th street, under the Monorail, we suddenly had four lanes and a hard riding fellow to my left took the far side and I jumped, with a few others, into passing gear. We bombed through town, passing most of the pack, careened down the hill into the International District and entered the freeway at a really good clip. Things were starting off well. I was optimistic.

TheFreeway
Onto the freeway I found a short thin line of bikes doing my desired speed and latched on tightly. I passed them on the downhill and they caught me again on the uphill, this time they were about three times bigger. I grabbed on again. I had a lot of good company. Strangely, this crossing has got to be my favorite, albeit least scenic, part of the ride. It is wide open – five lanes across – utterly devoid of cars and eerily full of conversation echoing through the tunnel. It is futuristic.

TheIsland
Last year I lost contact on my Lightning Thunderbolt once we got onto Mercer Island. It wouldn’t happen this year. My Silvio is a much faster bike, I am a stronger rider and I found I could stay neck and neck with the strong roadies on any hill on the island.

Naturally, in the pack, I coasted and rode the brakes on the downhills and flats. We were cruising right along at about 24 mph and I recognized that there was a lot of downhill around the back of the island so I released the brake, pulled out of line, and took off around the front of our seven man group. As I passed I told the guy on the vintage 10 speed who was pulling the pack

Grab my wheel on this downhill!

I heard a muffled “OK” and I continued to pull away.
I didn’t want to completely leave this group so I slowed up and let him catch on. Then I motored the pack the rest of the way around the island (Hi Fed!) and right on past the first stop. I was feeling excellent.
At the big uphill before the twisties I was passed by two racers wearing UW kits. In the twisties I got ‘stuck’ behind some slightly slower riders but didn’t try hard to pass I lazily found a way through and tried half-heartedly to make contact with the UW racers and the 7 man group I towed down the hill. I never caught them.

AloneTheFirstTime
At the blueberry marsh the course turned left (happy I didn’t have to fight that bumpy boardwalk through the marsh) into Bellevue and then over to Coal Creek. I was still keeping an amazing pace, over 20mph, by myself but I didn’t have any real help until I found another small group to ride (silently) with. I thought:

This is positively easy!

My plan was to refuel at the 2nd, 4th, 6th, and maybe 7th stop if I was tired.
The 2nd stop was in Newcastle somewhere…aaaaand…I just passed it.
No matter, no going backwards now, not when I feel this good. I still had water and plenty of goodies.

Now I’m on the hill up into Newport and since I have lots of work to do to keep up with these bombers on the hills I thought that it was about time I refueled from my own goodie bag. I nearly inhaled my home-made granola, literally – I didn’t realize I was breathing THAT hard – and completely lost contact with the climbers.

Encouragement
Alone again, I could set my own pace, and while it wasn’t slow my confidence was flagging. It was through the hairpins on the backside of Newcastle when one of the motorcycle SAG vehicles caught up with me and through his helmet he shouted encouragement

MAN! YOU ARE HAULIN BUTT!
Thanks.
YOU ARE NEAR THE LEADERS UP HERE! AND YOU ARE DEFINITELY THE FIRST RECUMBENT OUT ON THIS COURSE BY A LOOOONG WAY!
Allright! [breath] Cool.
NICE BIKE
Thanks,
KEEP IT UP!
Okay!

That gave me an amazing shot in the arm and I just kept right on motoring. I started to have the inklings of this post, and the individual metaphors that are here, on that hairpin road with the motorcycle.
I wasn’t aware at that time just how many more would follow, and how many had already passed.

I found another fellow on May Valley Road and together we bridged up with a third. We had a small conversation at the light when he asked me about my bike then I lost him in the confusion at the next stop, the 3rd stop, at mile 37. At this point the 20% chance of rain, was in full swing and I was cheering out-loud – I eat hard rain for breakfast!

I was warm enough, had some water, gummy-bear sugar, a coupla PBJ sandwiches and I was off. Couldn’t afford to dilly-dally when, as I was told, I was really only 8-10 minutes behind the leaders.
Not that I expected to catch them mind you but if I could stay close I would be proving my abilities and that of my bike. My average speed was 19.5 mph.

TigerMountain
I was caught at the turn up Tiger Mountain by two thinny guys in Livestrong gear. (They were dang near skinny but they had good muscle…so…they were thinny). They totally dusted me up that climb but I was outwardly fine with it. I wasn’t cramping here like I did last year but inwardly I wished I could stay with the climbers – I pushed harder.
I didn’t have long to wait for the cramping to commence.

The climb was pretty miserable because I pushed too hard but I wasn’t passed by anyone else. I pushed so hard that I was totally alone for the duration of the climb. Couldn’t catch the thinny guys but wasn’t allowing anyone to catch me either. Nobody in front, nobody in back. The slippery descent back into Issaquah was the same. When I turned towards the Issaquah highlands, and since I stopped at #3, I skipped stop #4. It was then that I felt a twitching in my thigh.

CrampingMyStyle
I took a stretch break at the bottom of the hill to be “pro-active” with my developing cramps but it was already too late. I struggled up the hill, was passed by several riders and then cruised down the backside onto Samammish Parkway with Marymoor in my sights – I knew the rest stop there would bring more fluid and PBJ sandwiches.
I was flagging, it was brutally cold, windy, rainy, and dreary. I was passed again by those two thinny guys and I grabbed their wheel.
I don’t remember being so happy to take muddy water in the face (no fender on that one) for the sake of a slipstream before.

Setback
I thanked them for the pull when we got to Marymoor – but the stop wasn’t here?
It’s always here…it was here last time…there it was, nope, wrong cancer event.
That mini roller-coaster pretty much shot my drive all to hell. After the extreme push with the Thinny guys my cramps came on in force and on the far side of Marymoor I was forced to stop.
My inner quad muscles  were completely siezed up. I could look down at them and what once was a mountain now was a valley. Except for the lack of a scar you might think the muscles were lost to some sort of industrial accident.
I called TheMommy and told her I was getting close – but I was alone, hurting, and wasn’t paying attention too much attention to myself – out of ignorance or denial, or both, I lied. I only had an eye for my goal and none for the present.
My average speed had dropped to 18 and I was getting cold. I was out of water and both sides of my legs were cramping (hamstrings and quads) and still there was The Hill. A SAG vehicle offered support, some water, and some encouragement but short of getting a ride home there was nothing they could do for me. They drove on.

I got going again and made it one mile to the 5th stop. I honestly don’t recall much except there was a sani-can, some fluid, some sugar, and lots of shivering. I was freezing so I had to keep moving but my legs were cramping so I couldn’t – but I did. I saw Steve Peterson (a fellow Team Fatty member and team Seattle coordinator) at this stop and he was cold too.
I dove back into the wind on the road and this time the going was tough. It took three miles of high-cadence pedaling to get warmed up and by that time my neck muscles were seized up from the intense shivering. Progress was slowed to a mere 16mph.

TheSteep
I was determined to attack The Hill. I did it alone…and it bit back. I cramped early and the gearing, even with my compact groupset, doesn’t allow me to spin the cranks like I needed that day. Then I made a critical mistake; feeling like I must have still another lower gear I upshifted – this time the lever did a BIG jump all the way in. I stopped. It was already maxed so this action, pushing hard in desperation like I did, broke the shifter.

So I walked, and I walked fast I had plenty of energy and it kept me warm despite the rain. I declined several requests for help from course “medics”. And at the top of the hill I tried to ride again in my stuck gear – again the cramps. This time I kneeled down deep in the muddy grass and stretched them generously. Amazingly the pain went away and I was able to finish my walk to the top of the hill. During my coasting descent to Lakemont I realized that I could downshift but not upshift. I ended up with a middle cog and forced myself not to touch that shifter again. There weren’t many hills left. I should be fine.

TwoSpeeds
On my new two-speed recumbent I found that I had just enough low-end to get up the remaining hills and just enough top-end to make decent time on the flats.
I quickly spun out on downhills.
I got to the Newcastle stop and after such a long descent I was less than warm, much less.
By the time I stopped, the rain hadn’t. It was a steady 20%, all day, and the wind was it’s first cousin. But this stop had hot drinks – warm tea, warm gatorade, and space blankets! Glorious space blankets.
I stopped long enough to shiver-start my GPS tracker for The Mermaids, get warm drinks in me, and finally thought to grab my spare jacket from under my seat. It was dry in it’s bag, and probably saved me from freezing the last 25 miles.

Alone
This whole time I am riding alone, with my thoughts, and thinking about how miserable some of my choices had been. Yet I was pushing on. At Newcastle I switched into “survival mode”. No longer did I care that I wasn’t keeping up, no longer did I care that my shifter was broken, no longer did I care that my hands were cold, no longer did I care…anything.

I briefly considered calling TheMommy to tell her I would just meet her at home but then I remembered my singular purpose ‘Get to the end’ and immediately after that a better and happier purpose – two Mermaids cheering for me at the finish line.
I left the Renton stop with renewed energy and enthusiasm (and more warm gatorade) and I careened down Rainier Ave at my former pace.

All that liquid had to go somewhere and a fair amount of it went into the bathroom in Seward Park. That delay, it turns out, was enough for Steve Peterson to catch and pass me. I caught him again at Colman Park and it was good to share the ride with a familiar, yet new, face.
We struggled up the hills into Seattle together and rehashed our recent experience. My cramps were still lurking close but not biting hard and I enjoyed his company.

Together
We made our way through town together, using the excellent Livestrong markings until we arrived at Seattle Center. About eight of us by that time, with a motorcycle SAG vehicle, took an unmarked wrong turn and ended up on the east side of the Center. I then led the group around the Center to the place where I thought I knew we should enter (hoping against hope it was set up the same as last year) and we finished together. The Mermaids were there, The Mommy was there, and finally I rested.

TheAllegory
Sometimes you ride alone and sometimes with friends. Sometimes you ride with strangers, still other times with family. There are tailwinds and flat spots, easy straights and slippery descents, and then there are the hills.

There is rain and more rain and more rain and still more rain and sometimes you shiver and press on in a towering wind. Your muscles cramp while your brain says go and your equipment fails yet you power on.

There was that support motorcyclist that told me early on that I was doing great, really movin’, and near the front. The encouragement felt good and it helped.

There were those two thinny strangers in the rain, on the rolling hills after a number of miles alone. They came around my left side and I matched their speed to take advantage of their draft. For the next 8 miles they stayed with me, or I with them, un-speaking support cranking along and pulling me along to the next stop. The unspoken camaraderie in the face of dismal circumstances felt good and it helped.

There were the volunteers, the non-competitors, in the SAG wagon that gave me water when I needed it and the medic on the tandem that repeatedly offered me a dry coat.
I was warm then but 20 minutes later I absolutely needed that space blanket and hot tea to take away the shakes. Knowing the support was there felt good and it helped.

There is a fear of the unknown pothole, the misted over glasses, the sound of an approaching car, the sidewind, and the slippery paint stripe in what looks like a clear and easy stretch.

Every ride has these struggles but they are chosen.

TheChoice
The only difference I see is choice, if it exists. I choose to ride my bike through the rain, up the steep, into the wind, over the potholes, and through the cramps.

I’ve never had cancer but I know some folks that do – and they don’t get to choose that battle.
Still they power on with a strength and a tenacity that exceeds a bike ride by magnitudes unmeasurable.
I choose to ride and power on in their honor and for them.

LiveStrong