Getting up at 5:00 am for training is not my favorite thing to do, but when I have a great sense of purpose, as I do for this trip, it becomes much easier. I am tired, no doubt, even when I get 7-8 hours of sleep. Actually, at the point when I near 8 hours, I usually start waking up on my own.
The key for me is this: lay everything out the night before so I don't have excuses and I don't have to think. If I can get out the door fairly easily, I can begin peddling and the mind will catch up -- if it has to at all (and I, for one, say -- take a break, kiddo!).
When you see the hill in front of you, and your ego has firmly told you you are not backing down from it, you have two choices:
A) Bite into the hill
B) Be bitten by the hill.
Actually, "B" isn't really a choice because the damned hill is going to bite into you -- that's what it does; it's in its nature.
Whether or not you bite back will determine your success in climbing, or, if you must, "conquering" the hill. I have a hard time with the idea of conquering an inanimate object because, well, it's inanimate. What did the hill do to me besides be there? And when I got to the top, what did I do? Well, looked around, enjoyed the air (lots of it as I was sucking like a fish out of water), then rode back down. I guess we could go at it again another time...though right now I'm not much in the mood.
Biting into the hill for me is a mindset. It means setting my gears correctly, digging my heels down deep on each rotation, pumping the handle bars and getting Buddha with my breath -- I mean my focus goes right there. Let the other parts of my body take care of themselves, I'm with the lungs and respiratory system. We're gonna provide some circulation, the rest of you just do your thing.
Hills are a great metaphor for the up and down, yin/yang nature of life. They also fall under the realm of one of my all-time favorite sayings, "This, too, shall pass". And it does. Even when I felt like I was going to puke. Even when my arms were trembling. Even when I looked back three times at my rear sprocket to confirm there wasn't, in fact, an easier gear I could go to.
I'm here. I'm typing. My fingers feel good.
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