If I Knew Then What I Know Now

Today I achieved the milestone of completing my first bike ride of fifty miles. As I neared the end of it I wondered, “If, when I signed up for the Israel Ride, I had known how grueling even fifty miles would be, would I have dared take on the goal of 300?”

Before I spend more time second-guessing myself, I should really give myself a break and acknowledge the accomplishment of getting through today's ride. At one stop along the way the thermometer read 99 degrees in the shade. Where I was riding, which typically was unshaded, and receiving another dose of heat radiating from the pavement, the temperature readout on my bicycle computer was 109.5 degrees. Any way you measure it, it was hot!

So this is an achievement. It closely resembles what I imagine to be the worst conditions we could face in the Negev in November.

While heat and hydration were issues today, they were not the greatest challenges. Frankly the most disturbing part of the ride can be reduced to simple physics. Too much time supporting too much weight on too tiny a perch--if you get my drift. This is an issue I have been attacking from several fronts lately. I have been trying different saddles, and different shorts--all designed to extend the time one may be expected to comfortably ride. Perhaps more important, although no one else has suggested this, is that I have lost a few pounds since I started working with an Olympic cycling coach last week. (Oh yeah, I finally decided that a novice cyclist who creates his own training program has a fool for a trainee.)

But let’s explore the original question. Would I have taken on this challenge if I had really understood the pain involved in meeting it? Like many hypothetical questions, we will really never know. As a general rule, however, I can reflect on other instances in my life that have had unforeseen obstacles. There were times where the challenges were overwhelming and others where they were overcome. That still doesn't answer the questions as to whether prior knowledge of them would have scuttled the mission before it was even launched.

We all have our own litany of adversities, many of mine, at least in regard to cycling, I have chronicled in these pages. I think of hill climbs or falling, just to mention two. Hill climbs will not be going away. They will never be stress and pain free. Additional falls, God-wiling will not occur, but the risk of them happening also will never disappear as long as I continue to ride.

It is understandable that today I--overheated, thirsty, left knee throbbing, ischial tuberosities aching--would ask myself if I'd be doing this if I really knew how much it would hurt. Sometimes it is better not to know what obstacles lie ahead. On the other hand, if I had the gift of perfect foresight it might well be comprehensive enough to provide a view of the eventual outcome. Then I would have some defined trade-offs to weigh against one another. In this case it would be the known pain in the butt versus the unknown but much anticipated thrill of the Israel Ride, and its potential educational, social, environmental, and spiritual benefits that I would evaluate. (Or maybe even the possibility that I will find the elusive comfortable saddle.)

Would I do it all over again? The answer will be revealed soon enough in my deeds, not my words when, as I suspect I will, I get back on the bike and ride off to the hills.