I informed my wife that I would be attempting another 200K next month. I also talked about the spring rando season and the desire to attempt a series (200, 300, 400, 600…maybe a 1200). I got a look like I had finally slipped my gears and a question: “why would you want to ride that far?”

Because it’s fun.

The incredulous stare became more intense.

Is it really fun?

Despite yesterday’s failure and the associated pain, I can honestly say it was a fun ride. I was riding with some interesting people. I saw some interesting terrain, some of which was familiar, some of which was new. At the first control I met some friendly people at a little country store way out in the middle of nowhere. The owner had seen a control card before and didn’t hesitate to sign mine. Although I perceived the same look I got from my wife: this guy is nuts.

Then there is the challenge of riding what people think is a crazy distance and to do it without the infrastructure and organization of the so-called “t-shirt rides.” The knowledge that, even in failure, my attempt yesterday made me stronger. Younger next year as the fitness book of that title extols. I’m not going to gracefully accept the accelerating decline that most associate with aging. I intend to walk into my grave.

Can’t wait

Hit the wall, fall down. Pick yourself up. Dust off. Learn from the lesson and press on. I can’t wait to get in another ride. Tomorrow I have Yellow Bike and grandkids. But Tuesday…miles and miles of Texas waiting for my two wheels.