How do I get there?



This past Saturday's 35-mile ride with Sean! We completed it in about 3 hours.



On the toughest, most grueling hills, just when I think I can’t possibly take it anymore, I am almost to the top. The steepest of hills. Those hills where your heart is pounding, your face is clenched, your thighs are burning and if you see someone on the side of the road you kind of want to punch them in the face to spread out the absolute agony you feel at that exact moment. And then it’s over. Deep breath. Recovery. Keep riding until the next hill.

The past two weekends I’ve gone on long rides with Sean. Last weekend was about 30 miles on Saturday, this past Saturday was 35 (our longest yet). And then Sunday we did 10. The longest ride we’ve gone on is still only half of my easiest day on Tour de Pink. Day 1 is about 60 miles, Day 2 is 90, Day 5 is 55 or whatever is left. I know I have about two and a half months to go, but I feel SO behind on training. I know I am doing everything I can, and I am trying my absolute hardest. We go on rides every time we can. I train at the gym when I can. But I feel like it’s not enough.

I feel like I won’t be ready.

Sure, a lot of it is the hills. Getting up those hills (thank you Central Pennsylvania) is half the battle when it comes to training. I need to be able to get up those steep hills and then recover in time for the next one. But it’s also about being comfortable on my bike, which I’m not yet.

I am going to admit something here: I am TERRIFIED when I ride my bike. Not all the time. But most of the time. It goes so fast, sometimes in and out of traffic, and I still haven’t figured out how to sit on it just right to where I can effectively control both the right and left gears. I still haven’t figured out how to move the left gear. I’ve been using the right ones, but the left one has been stuck in the middle since I got the bike. So my rides could probably be a lot easier or a lot harder if I wanted them to be.

 I need to feel comfortable on my bike. I need to feel like it is my best friend. If I’m afraid of my bike and its power how can I possibly ride? I need to CONTROL the bike. The bike shouldn’t control me. I take it where it needs to go. I slow it down when it needs to, and I push it up the hills. It stops when I want it to stop. It stops when I need water or a break. And I’m getting there, slowly. But I’m not there. Pink Flash: I love you, but you scare me. I am scared of you. I need to trust you and trust myself.

I am not a cyclist.

If you asked me to make a list of everything I needed to be able to do to feel ready for Tour de Pink I could come up with a million things. Learn how to use this gear, learn how to hold the steering wheel the right way, learn how to ride with cleats, learn how to get my feet in the pedals faster, learn how to stop without feeling like I’m going to fall over, learn how to brush a bug off my leg without losing balance, learn how to drink water WHILE cycling, learn how to go through traffic lights without having a slight panic attack.

WITH TIME. WITH PRACTICE. WITH PATIENCE.

I keep telling myself: one thing at a time. One day at a time. When I first got Pink Flash, having pedals with straps was new to me and I couldn’t figure out how to start riding WHILE putting my feet into the pedal straps. It would take me multiple tries and sometimes I would have to start and stop again. Now, I can do it faster, usually without having to stop again. It got there. With time.

I think when things are scary or overwhelming to me I psych myself out. I remember: last time I couldn’t get my feet in the pedal straps and I fell over. So I’m more inclined to repeat that process. And then finally, when I effectively did it, I try to remember the successful time (not the failure time) for next time. So when it happens again I envisioned myself being successful in getting my feet in the pedal straps. I remember: I did this last time, so I can do it again.

Same with the steep hills. Just when I want to stop and get off my bike, I push just a little further, and I remember I got up that same hill last time, so I can get up it again.

I try to remember each time I was successful at accomplishing something on my bike or with my bike, so when I am faced with the same or similar problem again I can move forward. Instead of looking back on what I did wrong, I remember what I did right, and encourage myself to do it right again. And if you do that enough times it becomes habit.

I have to give myself time. I am not going to be perfect, or near perfect, right away. I know I have a lot of training to do. I know 90 miles is a lot. I know 60 miles is a lot. I know three days of nothing but riding is a lot. I know I’m not a cyclist. I know I’ve never done this before. I know I’m not entirely comfortable on my bike. I know, I know, I know. I get it. And I want so badly to be there. To feel prepared and to feel ready and to go into September feeling strong and motivated. And I do. I already do feel strong and motivated.

I think I have to remember I don’t learn things overnight. I don’t become perfect at things overnight. They take time and patience. I just want to get to a place where I feel 100 percent (or even 85 percent) ready.

So how do I get there? The answer is simple. Keep doing what I’m doing. And when Sept. 27 comes, it will be what it will be.

And the good?

I can get my feet in the pedals faster now. I can make it up some of the hardest hills with minimal recovery time. I like riding. Especially on bike paths through parks, and double especially on country roads in the middle of nowhere: passing llama farms and cornfields and blue skies. When I am out there that is where I am happiest. And in the sun. I love riding in the sun.

I love the feeling of sweat on my forehead and I love knowing I am working my body and knowing it is working right back for me. I love that feeling after I’ve gone up a huge hill (the kind where I want to punch someone), and then I take a deep breath, my legs have a few seconds to rest, and I almost want to close my eyes and take a quick nap. I love the speed. Even though I’m terrified at how fast Pink Flash goes, when we’re out in the middle of nowhere on country roads and she takes me down a hill it is both exhilarating and relaxing at the same time. Deep breath, wind in my sweaty hair. And then I prepare for the next hill.

So maybe instead of feeling discouraged at what I still have to learn, I can try to enjoy what I still have to learn.

When I started running a few years ago, I was not a runner. I had that same feeling – of wanting to punch someone in the face when I was so exhausted I couldn’t take it anymore. And then I ran more and more and more and more, and now, two years later, running brings me so much joy. It frees me. When I run I erase agitation and stress. I find strength and motivation. I find a special connection, each and every time, each and every mile, with my body.

Today I am not a cyclist. But I am learning to love it. I am learning the craft, the art of it. I am learning the skills and the techniques. And when September gets here I’ll get on Pink Flash and take her through what we practiced. And I’ll be as ready at that moment as I’m meant to be: no more and no less. And it’s because I am putting my heart and soul into it. When you put your heart and soul into something there is no right or wrong. Because your heart and soul are yours. They are yours to own, to do whatever you want with. They take you where you need to go.

So many people are counting on me for this, and so many people believe in me. So many people think I’m crazy to take on this challenge. Crazy or not, they still think I can do it. The person who is most counting on me is myself.

My body

My strength

For breast cancer

For what I went through

For being a young woman

For all the young women survivors

For all the young women who are still battling

For all the young women who didn’t make it

Because breast cancer happens to young women

Because breast cancer happened to me

Because we only have one life

Because I can

Because I want to

Because I want to do something amazing with my passion and drive

Because I want to finish the race

Because I want the finish line

Because the finish line is just the beginning

How do I get there?

When I registered for Tour de Pink it was sometime in January or February. I thought to myself, sure, September is pretty far away, but I’ve got lots of work to do before I can “get there.”

Now, Tour de Pink is less than three months away and I still have lots of work to do before I can “get there.”

But what is “there”?

For me, lately, it is a place where I’m comfortable and content with all things. I couldn’t get “there” during my breast cancer journey and wedding planning. I was always stirring, waiting for the next thing. I couldn’t get “there” after my breast cancer journey was over. I was always reshuffling, looking for another project or activity to keep me from stirring. I am not “there” in my training: I am still lacking in so many departments.

I put a lot of pressure on myself. And a lot of that is about finding my “there.” “There” is comfortable with all things, content with all things, PREPARED.

I think when I stop trying to get “there” – somewhere, I let my worst fears in. Fear of Li Fraumeni Syndrome giving me cancer again and ruining this life I’ve worked so hard to create. I think that’s one reason I’m never “there.” Because once I’m “there” – once everything is perfect and content and I’m prepared, then it could be destroyed, taken away. So maybe subconsciously I am always, always, always working towards something to keep myself from getting to a place where I feel completely comfortable. Maybe it is a defense mechanism. Because I know when I stop trying to perfect everything and anything, I leave the door open for cancer.

So I keep asking myself how to get “there,” when quite possibly, I don’t want to. I don’t want to stir and I don’t want to feel unprepared. I do want to be content and comfortable, and I am. But I think part of my function is to constantly work towards something. Somehow, someway, I think cancer can’t find me when I’m busy. Or maybe I don’t think of it as much when I’m working towards something.

It’s scary to be stirring and it’s frustrating to not feel prepared and it’s terrifying to think about cancer. Memories I’ve blocked out are coming back to me, and in my head I hear Dr. Kass saying things like “invasive” and “non-invasive” when she was explaining my diagnosis two years ago. I replay things in my mind I hadn’t thought of since, things that no longer matter, yet things I feel I need to run in my mind again and again.

So how do I get to a place where I’m not doing this? How do I get to a place where I’m 100 percent happy with my training, feel prepared for Tour de Pink? I feel like I’m wasting my time. Why am I not enjoying this more?

Patience.

“Have patience with all things, but especially with yourself.”

I guess right now, but best “there” I can get to is admitting I’m not “there” and I don’t know what “there” is.

Up each hill one more time.

Unpack one more box.

Run one more mile.

Thank G-d every day for my health and my life: the best life I could have ever hoped for, a life I am so blessed and lucky to have. A life not without pain, but with so much healing. A life of recovery. A life of moving forward. A life of FUTURE. A life that gives me the time I need to get to where I’m going, wherever that may be.

Pink and Pearls doesn’t give me answers. It helps me sort out my questions.