I’ve fallen in love. With mountain biking. For some, that may sound like a badass endeavor, to others, no big thang. It’s a source of challenge and calm and meditation and adventure for me. It serves not only my body to “send it” but also my brain happens to be a much less scary place post ride.
I just got back to home base after spending the weekend at Phil’s World outside of Cortez, CO. It was 12 Hours of Mesa Verde this Mother’s Day weekend, a 12 hour race where you (or your team of 2, 3 or 4) see how many 17 mile laps you can pound out within the allotted time. This was my first ever race I attempted 3 years ago and holds a special place in my heart.
And folks, I crushed it. Goals for race day: #1: Have fun. Check. #2: Keep ‘er between the ditches. Mostly. Check. #3: Beat my PR from last year, 1hr 49min. CHECK! I killed it. I even had a “gentle endo” and still crossed the threshold at 1hr 42min!!
The real win for me is feeling my body and confidence soar as I continue biking. Honestly, one could swap out biking for anything really. It’s the witnessing myself becoming, molding my craft, in a state of growth. I’m now 41 and feel like a fine wine, just getting better and more complex and refined with age. It’s an amazing thing, the ability we have to grow and to witness that change.
I’m taking a breathe in of self acceptance and joy this morning. Feels good to be.
Another joy of the race was the camaraderie of those on the trail. Any time I passed someone on the trail who was pulled over I always asked if they needed anything (as I would hope people would do for me!). One younger girl responded while catching her breath, “I’m just slow!” Without hesitation, I replied, “You do you, girlfriend.” That is pretty much the equivalent of what what said to me by the mutants who passed me. Literally. Loved it.
Slow, fast, stopped, moving; We were all doing the thing. Pushing ourselves willingly to sharpen our skills, be better, do hard things.
Having these collective, shared experiences is a gift.