"They're Just Friends You Haven't Met Yet..."

I went on a ridiculous bike ride the other day. Part of this trip was some Dirty Dozen Hill preview fun. "Fun." By fun, I really just mean standing at the bottom of the steepest hill I've ever seen, and crying like a fool for twenty minutes, because I wanted to climb so badly, but my logical mind kept telling me it was a bad idea. I felt like I could walk up and lean my bike on it. Climbing it would nearly defy the laws of physics. And though it seems like an impossible feat, every Saturday after Thanksgiving (and apparently other times throughout the year when the hill is actually open...), people do, in fact, climb it. The other two killer hills we climbed that day were challenging, but I made it up with no trouble.

At some point in the ride, I told Paul this was stupid, and I really didn't want to come do the race anymore. I was serious. As we talked, he said most of the hills were no worse than anything I'd see at home. I told him I felt like those were hills I knew, old friends whom I climbed regularly. I'm a fairly closed person, and I confess I don't always like meeting new people. Situations where I will are stressful. I feel the same way about hills.

Hard hills always feel to me as though I have to let down my guard and be really candid; I don't like that. I thrive on situations where I am in control, and don't like to give that up. Paul pointed out that hills I don't know are, "just friends I haven't met yet." And on some level, that's true. Ravine and Center Street left me hurting, but hungry for more. I'm sure that if I can convince myself to attempt it, Berry Hill Road will do the same.

But I'll be honest... that was the hardest 8-9 miles I've ever ridden. Complaints about challenging rides at home go out the window riding up here. I look at some of these roads and wonder how on earth they ever paved these streets. It's baffling. Berry Hill closes during the winter because it can't be plowed. Cobblestones are aplenty on other hills. Strange riding around these parts. If my cycling days had begun in this town, I'm not sure I'd be riding still. My standard for "hard" has changed. No longer will I say, "Well, I can make it up Alto, I can do x." Henceforth, my standard will state, "I rode up Ravine and didn't die. I can do this."

I need to work on unshrouding myself, being consistently real and taking risk. Meet new people and roads candidly, and allow myself to grow.