(If you’re seeing this in Facebook, click the link below for more pictures.) I haven’t heard our best riders say they were tired, until yesterday. That meant I was more than tired, many times. On the outside, my body shined with sweat from intense sun and no breeze. On the inside, my legs demanded there was nothing left, by sending pain in new and creative ways. But the hills kept coming, so we kept going. Unlike others, I walked my bike up some of the especially steep peaks.
I don’t mean to complain. It’s just how I felt sometimes, but other times, the thrill was as intense as the pain. A few minutes of the ride give a good example. One minute, I was going up to a peak, and the title of this blog post occurred to me, The Ozarks have hells not hills. A couple minutes later, I was at the top, and a minute after that, the road felt like it disappeared below me, something I hadn’t felt before. In seconds, my speed was 48 MPH (77 KPH) . I don’t like to swear, but without thinking, I yelled, “Holy shit!”
More hills showed up after that, and I video recorded one. My apologies to everyone out there who have suggested that handlebars are meant for 2 hands.
If anyone reading this has cancer, I’d like to emphasize that you completely forget about it going up and down those hills, and for a long time after. You also believe even more that we’re going to cure cancer soon with a bit of extra effort–please consider helping with a donation.
Another satisfaction after a day of hellish hills is having a day off, which we have today. Most of our group is spending 5 hours floating down a river. I’m enjoying a bit of heaven. For me, that’s a morning with the writing I love so much, with lots of coffee and treats. Thanks for stopping by.
I have been following your journey since you dipped your rear wheel in the ocean, and have really enjoyed your posts. It looks like an amazing adventure. I was keeping up with your progress while traveling to visit my daughter of London by way of Iceland. I had a chance to participate in Iceland’s Pentecost Trail Race / Hvítasunnuhlaup (14km), and then run a race in Dover with my daughter while in the UK. I am now back in Florida – back at work and training for another trail race the end of the month, as well as some cycling events.
I am coming up on 3 years since being dxed with advanced PC, node positive, and have been through surgery, radiation and a year of ADT. I am fortunate to be on a treatment holiday currently, and taking advantage of this time to enjoy life and regain as much strength as possible. Following your adventure is truly inspirational, and is a reminder of just what is possible, despite the circumstances.
Safe travels, and enjoy the ride!
Thanks very much for following my blog and your kind comments. We seem to have quite a bit in common. I lived in London for 7 years, so we both have ties to the UK. We both have advanced prostate cancer, and best of all, we both stay active. I’m impressed with the runs you’ve completed, must have had some wonderful sights.
I’m still getting used to being an inspiration to people, but if it helps, I’m happy to be one, especially since I’m just doing what I love. On this ride, I’ve found a few other sources of inspiration. One is that I’m the youngest in our group of 10, by 10 years in some cases, and I’m one of the slower riders. Another example is that one of the riders chipped a bone in her arm on the first day of the ride. She’s been riding with a cast ever since. Thanks again for following my blog, for posting, and I hope your treatment keeps knocking down your cancer. If you have any pictures of yourself when you’re running, I’d love to see them.
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