This post is going to be about two (perhaps more, but definitely two) wholly unrelated things. And I’ve already taken my sleeping pill. Consider yourself warned.

If you would like to entertain yourself with other things, you can read about the time I bought shoes online while I was mostly asleep. That was fun.

I promise that this is not going to become a cycling blog forever, but for now, cycling is the biggest elephant that needs discussion, so cycling it is.

My big bike ride, the Tour de Cure, is scheduled for Saturday. I can’t believe it’s already here! It’s seemed so far off for such a long time that I’m kind of baffled that there are no more Saturdays between now and the big enchilada. 47 miles is a long way. For you local peeps, it is the distance between where I live, in the northwest part of Houston, down to League City. For my Arkansas friends, it is the distance between The Delph and Bryant. It helps to picture it that way. Or maybe it makes it more intimidating? I don’t know.

Last Saturday I headed out to Cypress to ride with the NW Cycling Club. They have groups that ride at various speeds and distances and I rode with the “no-drop” group on the 40 mile route…and I got dropped about 22 miles in. To be fair to the other riders in the group, I simply couldn’t keep up. There were people behind me from my group (I suppose I’d dropped them when I was riding with Tour wannabes, but there was NO WAY ON EARTH I was going to slow down just for company). There were some hills (that I didn’t ever think were ever going to end) and a lovely headwind. The combination was too much for me and in addition to wanting that bike ride to end, the other thing I was thinking about? My plummeting average speed. I have to admit that in those moments, bike riding was not fun. I was most definitely not enjoying it, but once I was out in the middle of nowhere, who was I going to call to come and get me? Humiliating AND inconvenient? No thanks. I finished the ride and I didn’t even have to get off and walk it any (if I did, I thought there was a good chance I’d never get back on), so I just kept pedaling. It was not fast and it was not sexy, but I did it. It was the hardest physical thing I have ever done. And I did it anyway. I don’t write this to be boastful or proud or for pity. I just conquered a personal milestone of some significance and I needed to tell someone. (Thank you for reading, you silent lurkers. I know you’re out there. )

I finished with a respectable average speed, but I’m hoping to best that on Saturday, of course! (The thing with cycling, as in running I imagine, is that there’s always a record to break.) I am nervous about Saturday. I’m nervous about, in no particular order:

• What if it’s really windy? I feel so defeated by wind. I know that’s my problem to solve/make peace with/get over, but that’s what I’m dealing with.
• There’s a fair to middling chance I will get lost if I get separated from my group. I have a map and the route should be well-marked. I shouldn’t worry about this.
• Speaking of my group, did I tell you that I’m riding with my boss? He’s awesome and we have a great relationship and to be honest, he’s one of my favorite people. Having said all of that…I just bought some lycra biking shorts. Need I say more?

My eyes are starting to cross and words aren’t coming out quite right, so I need to wrap this up. Before I go, read the Psalm where I spent my quiet time this morning. Be blessed by the reverence due our holy but accessible father.