The nice thing about a 17 hour drive is there is time to think. Time with no radio station for company, when favorite songs have all been played and the newest podcasts devoured. Somewhere between Abilene and Fort Worth there is a place where a dirt road parallels the highway for some time. This is not mountainous country and yet it is not flat either, and this road paralleling the highway is much like the Flint Hills of Kansas where the Dirty Kanza target race will be held.
The small dirt road seems to go straight up like a wall for a short stretch. I have relatives that live by such a hill — one cars struggle with not to speak of bicycles. Going up is not the problem. The issue I know will be coming back down. Sometimes such roads have rather large boulders as part of their contraction, presumably to avoid erosion. I read that there was a spot in the Dirty Kanza race on roads like these where nearly every participant in the leading pack got a flat. The flats come from landing at odd angles and great force with respect to the sharp flint edges.
There are three things I would like to avoid in my cycling plan: crashing, landing so hard nerves are crushed, and getting stuck in the middle of nowhere with a mechanical I can’t repair. This little hill speaks to me. It could deliver any or all of the three.
When I stopped to rest my dreams were of propelling off the top with such force I could clear the whole hill. My whole life I’ve had dreams of flying. I’ve learned to interpret them as a warning to bypass certain roads I could choose.
Do I need this? Isn’t there another way to stay motivated and on the bike for health? Sign-up in January looms. I am not in the shape yet that I want to be in. Road trips like the one I’m on now are not cycling, and take me back a few steps that I will have to regain somehow. The practical decision would be to delay a year, or find a new objective.
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