In my younger years, I enjoyed a long run. My favorites were in the 10-12 mile range with a bit of San Francisco bay as well as the hills. My speed was slow and steady. I knew the primary reason to run was staying fit. Frankly, I was ok with this; I ran because I enjoyed the experience. As I ran, I worked to stay within my breathing. The process allowed me to run as long as my legs would hold up, which meant that long runs were something I could look forward to. I understood that there were walls that I could not cross. Slowing down, staying within my breathing, helped me avoid the experience.
For a variety of reasons, I switched to bicycling when I was in England. I confidently took the same slow, steady, staying within my breath approach to cycling. Initially it worked out well. My confidence building, I decided to go on my first long ride. I loaded up some extra hydration and a bit of food on the belt around my waist. I was ready.
The amber lights went off 45 minutes into the ride when I felt my back wheel bind. Given the age of the bike and the last service, I mentally knew that nothing could or should go wrong. Everything in my body said otherwise. I slowly stopped on the edge of the road to take a break and examine the rear wheel. Everything looked perfect. After a few minutes I got back on the bike and was amazed how perfect it felt. The red lights went on ten minutes later. The binding feeling in the rear wheel was back, now worse than ever!
I was in serious trouble. I was miles from home. I was beyond the wall. “I’m dry as a bone, my tongue black and swollen. They have laid me out for burial in the dirt.” (Psalm 22.15)
I remember sitting for the better part of an hour, sipping fluids. I made it home, ashen gray. I thought I learned yet the story repeats.
