Life as a Daring Adventure

"Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing. To keep our faces toward change and behave like free spirits in the presence of fate is strength undefeatable."  Helen Keller

Sometimes just turning my face is all the bravery I can muster.

But sometimes I have a little more in the tank. I do know how to dig in and hang on, and sometimes I can push and do. I am inordinately proud to report I have stuck to my Kanza 100 training plan since I started it last Wednesday.

Oh yeah, the, uh, 100. I'm not done feeling ashamed - and you can say what you like about how I ought or ought not feel - for dropping from the 200 to the 100-mile gravel race in June.

I know, I know it's the right thing to do, and yeah, I do want to actually finish a freaking race for ONCE since 2015's Half-Jackrabbit (in which I was not DFL thank you very much, thanks to riding partner TS who saw the cowbells and photogs lined up at the finish and tucked in behind me, the chicken gentleman. Because they weren't there to cheer the DFL, the Dead Fucking Last, oh no.  We were such slow riders, they thought we were the first finishers from the full course, rather than the last finishers on the half course.)

A photograph from the Half-Rabbit has been my iPhone background screen since 2015. It was my first gravel race; I had no idea it would be the only I'd ever finish for YEARS. I'm not changing it until I finish another race. Kanza 100 could be it.

Trying to be pumped, I am, I am. I AM. I rode my training hours last week on the trainer in front of days of a Game of Thrones marathon, but I rode them ALL, including the intervals (short higher-paced segments with shorter prescribed rest segments in between).

I modified the training plan since I jumped into a 12-week plan with 8 weeks before the race. (Admitting that to the race director last week was the final straw she needed to encourage me to switch from 200 to 100. AND SHE WAS RIGHT. BUT I GET TO BE SAD ANYWAY. BECAUSE I SUCK MY BODY SUCKS IS FREQUENTLY UNCOOPERATIVE.)

The training plan is set up in hours and pace according to perceived effort, not in miles or miles per hour - and it's so much better for me, a very slow rider, this way. My speed will improve with the interval training. I'm not racing against anyone but myself this year, yes, for this whole YEAR. This isn't training for a podium finish, people, just for a finish. And a new background photo on my flippin' iPhone. That might just be taken in Emporia.

"It's All Mental"

For once, I'll get right to the lede: if it's all mental, then we're bigger failures than we thought. And I'm saying "we" when I mean "I" because it seems gentler I guess?

If succeeding, if finishing a very challenging physical task like a gravel century is more mental then physical, if it's, as many say, "all mental," and I [don't choose to]* finish, then it's not because my body can't do it, oh no, it's because I'm a mental weakling, or lazy, or just not dedicated or determined enough.

*[because another thing they say is there's no such thing as "can't"]

As if dealing with the physical shortcomings weren't overwhelming in itself, we're going to tell people they just didn't try hard enough?  Can we not?

The "truth" coming from any elite athlete about what it takes to finish 200 miles and 6,000' of gravel in 22 hours or less isn't Truth -- it's an anecdote, a personal truth from an elite athlete. The people who finish that kind of race are a subset of the general population and they are a physically healthy subset who has physically trained for that race. So I don't care if 99% of the finishers tell you the same thing - that finishing Dirty Kanza -- or finishing a Death Valley marathon, or climbing Denali, or hey, how about beating fucking cancer? -- is all mental. You are hearing from the winners, those who were physically strong or fit enough to survive, and their opinions are skewed.

I don't know what I'm so mad about except that I feel ashamed with no one to blame but myself. I knew or should have known that attending the gravel camp in my current state would be an exercise in humiliation. It was a long winter with minimal riding, I'm still trying to manage this tremendous weight gain, and wow was that extremely unfortunate timing with the labial tear/abscess.

Not only did I drive 6 hours and spend vacation time and hotel money to attend, what I left behind while gallivanting about the Flint Hills with the celebrities of gravel was a weekend helping address flood damage at the cabin - a place I was needed and would have been appreciated instead of embarrassing myself -- the fat girl at camp, watching her portion sizes at the buffet because everyone else is.

Maybe it won't sound like I mean it, but the camp is truly top-notch, excellent as long as you're in physical shape to keep up. I wasn't, and that's on me and not the camp. I guess I'll save my glowing recommendation for another post; it may fall flat in this one.

I acknowledge the self-flagellation here. I rode almost 100 miles of tough Kansas gravel over the 3 days, I worked hard. But the schedule was 200. And once again I was miles behind the group with the camp assigning me essentially my own ride guide because I am so fucking slow, taking that guide from the group.

Those who finished their century on Saturday were celebrated, no matter how late they came in (as well they should be !)  One man crashed at the bottom of a tricky descent, splitting his helmet and knocking himself out about mile 50.  He was taken to the ER, checked out, and returned, at his request, to the halfway point to finish his ride in a borrowed helmet. Which he did. He's 60 years old, by the way, but with the calves of a climber. You know that insurance commercial with the cyclist who's insured his legs? Like that.

I am down.  Well, I WAS down, but something has grown from rumination over it and this post over these past several days since returning home.

I realize more than ever that I am the right person to write the blog I want to write, this very one about a regular human trying hard, getting knocked down, and then trying again just to get on her bike and make the wheels go 'round. And I mean a real regular human, not an athlete or a celebrity or a pretty, clever thing. Just me.

Well shit, I guess I buried the lede after all.

It's April ! You know what that means?

April is. . . the Official Month of Missed Deadlines?

No! (or at least, Not Only That!) 30 Days of Biking has begun!

I've already missed my potential April 1st bike ride and my planned April 1st blog post, so... right on schedule, I'm late.

I have a FABULOUS excuse for not riding in that I'm technically not cleared to?  Though Dr. G acknowledged it wasn't her area of expertise, she still tossed off a "2 weeks off the bike" recommendation for healing; tomorrow just makes one week. Close enough! I am going to try - *try* - a few minutes on the trainer this evening and we'll see how it goes. TBH, I'm nervous because what's coming this weekend with Camp DK (200 miles of Kansas Flint Hills gravel over 3 days, 50/100/50) is no joke.

Let's talk about 30 Days of Biking, because I think this is a truly wonderful program with benefits to riders of all levels.

This is a program started by a couple of dudes in Minneapolis who wanted to spread the joy of biking. Simple as that. Along the way, they raise money for charity and this year it's World Bicycle Relief, which provides sturdy bicycles AND bicycle repair training for young people and adults in developing countries. (Google "buffalo bicycle" or check out WBR 's site - good stuff.)

www.30DaysofBiking.com is the site when you're ready to "make the pledge." What does that mean? You enter your name and maybe your e-mail address and pledge to ride your bike every day in April. That's it. If you're willing to make a few social media posts about it, more's the better, but it's not required. It just makes it more fun. The pledge is FREE, a donation to World Bicycle Relief is completely voluntary. Also free (if you explore the site a little bit) is a template for you to make your own spoke cards. I had 100 made a few years ago to leave at bike shops & share with others. I had them printed on card stock & laminated & I get a kick out of people noticing them in my spokes & asking about them. I probably get a bigger kick out of noticing them in other peoples' spokes.

No ride too big or small, indoor or outdoor, and if you miss a day, well, it's on the honor system - just tack on a ride after the end of the month. Like I'm going to do !

I like it because it helps build a habit and it fosters a supportive community of riders all over the world. I love that following the hashtag #30DaysofBiking or #30DoB on any of the usual social media sites will reveal posts in multiple languages. Note on Facebook the page is "Joyful Riders Worldwide," changed from a "30 Days of Biking" page because it turns out the friends we make all over the world during April are people we still enjoy chatting with in May... or July... or January.

There's no mandatory tracking or reporting, but a fun app to use in April is "Ride." It asks of you only your e-mail address, it tracks rides automatically, and it rewards you with fun daily "trophies" after rides. The trophies are little emojis that bounce into a screen and accumulate - I'm a total dork so I know if you shake your phone, the trophies will all bounce around and I find this hugely entertaining. (I live a sheltered life.)

Okay, I'm stopping!  (This is the Ann version of a "short blog post, apparently.) Go pledge !

(This is a favorite, though not recent, photo of me in my 30 Days of Biking jersey. World-class photographer Henry Gentle snagged this shot at the bike park on the Katy Trail near Columbia, Missouri. In the background you can see the SCARY TEETER TOTTER that I finally mastered right before this shot. I could post that video here but it might damage my cred as a tough bad ass as you can clearly hear the tiny "ohhh shiiiiiit" as I barely survive the teeter.)