Living Strong

It's strange how we prepare for months just to make one day absolutely perfect. To anyone else, it's just an ordinary day. But for me, this Sunday, Aug. 23 is the date of my first century— the culmination of months of training, fundraising, and wishing my toptube was just a few centimeters shorter so my freakin' knee didn't feel like it was being mauled by a rabid bear by mile 30!

Seriously...

Had my luck turned so sour with anything else, I probably would have thrown up my hands and found something else to occupy my time. But cycling is different. I'm like a mouse knowing that once I swipe the cheese, it's lights out, but I do it anyway. All summer I hung on for 60 or 70 mile training rides with a stabbing, Samurai sword-like pain in my leg. It hurt so good, I suppose, as I keep dragging myself back for more.

No one seems to know what's going on with my leg. After describing my pain and enduring a few pokes and prods, I'm always left with a bunch of puzzled looks. "It's probably a poor bike fit," they conclude. This makes sense. A year ago I walked into a bike shop with my bright green cyclocross bike for a proper fitting. Not three pedal strokes in, the bike shop dude declared that "there's all kinds of wrong going on here." I wasn't exactly in the position to drop three grand on a bike, so instead, I moved my saddle forward and bought ibuprofen by the barrel.

I was becoming grumpy-- not quite Cadel Evans grumpy-- but bitter nonetheless. I secretly wished someone would steal my bike or accidentally cause its demise (without me attached of course) so I could collect a nice check. But the fates never smiled down on me... despite leaving the garage door unlocked at night.

Finally, in the process of test riding bikes, the perfect offer came along--a full carbon Cannondale, women specific, that fit perfectly, making me grin from ear to ear just looking at it. That same week, I was miraculously referred to a physical therapist who specializes in cycling.

Sunday may be just another day, but, with taped knee, I'm ready to hop on my new ride and pedal away. Its been a long time coming.