We were warned, leading up to last Saturday’s training ride out of Sunol, that we would encounter the “infamous Wall.”  I didn’t like the sound of “infamous” and I didn’t like the sound (and initial Cap) of “Wall” — but as it turns out the Wall was optional.  Which was great, because even without experiencing the Wall (apparently, it’s a steep drop favored by cyclists who are braver and better than I am) I found the ride quite difficult.  In cumulative climbing terms, it was a smidge less gnarly than the “Three Bears” ride of the week before — but the tough part was that the first half of this 30-mile ride (my longest yet, by five miles or so) was pretty much all up.  There was some up, and then some more up, and then a lot of up.  Up became all that there was, or at least seemed to be.  Been up so long, looked like flat to me.  Down was a distant, perhaps faulty memory from back in the mists of time, when the universe was young and down possibly prevailed.

And at some point I got it.  I’d been going up and up and up, and my leg muscles were yelling at my brain to tell them to stop pedaling — and my brain just said … no.  And my legs shrugged (figuratively) and just kept going — slowly, mind you, incredibly slowly, first-gear slowly, but still they didn’t stop.  And what I got was this: that training for an endurance event involves rewiring yourself, so that what would previously have caused your body to shut down now only pissed you off.  Suddenly there were two of me: the one who, quite reasonably, desired to stop; and the other one, the stubborn brutish me who just … kept … going.  And the wanting-to-stop me, 52 years old, regarded the newborn up-up-up me and decided, for another day at least, to back off.

At the top I was told to stop, to have some food and water, and then, after a few minutes, I headed back down.  I’m the slowest person on the team, I think, but heck, I’m on the team!  Which is cool.

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Below is a map of my ride; if you click on it, you can get a whole bunch of detailed info — more, no doubt, than you would ever wish to see.  In the spirit of total transparency, let me admit that when I rolled back into the parking lot where we’d started, my little bike-computer thingie showed that I’d gone 29.9 miles; so, yeah, I biked a few times around the lot so I’d get to an even 30.  And you know something?  I’d do it again!