Mile Zero
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It's a steep descent off the back of Hawk Hill — an 18 percent grade, to be exact. A sign at the top warns cyclists to use "Extreme Caution", though by the time you notice it, it's probably too late. I felt the wind coming off the Pacific Ocean pushing me sideways as I began to ride down, wondering whether this was a good idea.
I had first taken this road more than two years ago, not long after I bought my touring bike. I had thought it scared me then only because I was fairly new to road cycling, and it happened to be raining. But I realized now I was mistaken: even on a dry day, with plenty of hills under my belt, the descent was still frightening.
I squeezed my brakes as I felt gravity pull me down the smooth pavement, releasing slightly as I went into turns. The view — out beyond San Francisco's Golden Gate — was beautiful, but I barely looked up.
This was January, and I was halfway through a 60 mile ride. I was eager to start accumulating miles because I had recently decided to ride the full Grizzly Peak Century, a local tour renowned for its punishing amount of climbing — 8k+ feet in total. Hawk Hill isn't part of the course but I thought I could use the hill training. Although I'd ridden the 50 and 75 miles routes of the GPC in prior years, this would be my first time riding the full route.
Fast forward to May, and I had abandoned my century ambitions altogether. After lackluster training throughout the spring, I had to admit to myself that I wasn't prepared. Initially, I felt relief; I had let myself off the hook. But what followed was a strong sense of disappointment in myself. Why had I failed to follow through?
Why are we here again?
There were reasons, of course. February was rainy. In March, I caught a cold that lingered. But my training plan was also vague and only in my head. That should have been revealing: I hardly ever need a reason to start a new spreadsheet.
What I realized is that I hadn't really explained to myself why I wanted to do the ride in the first place, or internalized what it would take to train properly. I had a mix of other goals and obligations that were vying to take priority in the meantime, and so when small obstacles came my way, I stumbled.
When I look back at previous attempts to write and publish on my blog, it's not all that different. I've have a desire to write, and a general idea of how many times I'd like to publish in a month or in a year. But connecting the dots and understanding what kind of committment that's going to take is another thing.
Clarifying the why is the other essential piece. The other day I was listening to the author David Sedaris interviewed on the radio . When Sedaris was asked why he returns to the page each day to write, after meeting his ambitious daily step count and doing Duolingo, he had this to say:
I want to be better. I want to be better at everything. And the only way to get better at everything is to work harder [...] That's the promise: that you can write better, that you can understand better, that you can speak a language better, be a better person. But it's not going to happen by accident. You have to work at it.
The idea that someone as accomplished as Sedaris keeps at it every day because he wants to continuously improve was striking and inspiring.
Thinking back to cycling, the first time I rode the 75 mile length of the GPC — the longest I'd ever ridden — I felt a great sense of not only accomplishment but also hope. It's easy, entering middle age, to slide into thinking that you're not going to get better or stronger at anything, that after the "hill" it's just a decline. But I'd resisted that and succeeded.
Maybe that should have been reason enough to push through with the 100 mile route. I also have other cycling goals, including doing a multi-day tour internationally. Cycling, for me, has always been about connecting with the wider world. But of course getting down the road requires a certain level of fitness.
So here I am, training lapsed, at mile zero. I can start again, I tell myself, I can get better. With this blog, I am also starting from a blank slate once more. I'm not exactly sure what I want to write, only that I want to keep writing.