Merely Mortal
I realized this weekend that I am but a mere mortal. No, it's true. I'm sorry to disappoint.

This is a hard fact for me to accept. We forget how fragile our bodies are until we are rendered nearly helpless by a tiny flu bug, or something equally debilitating. Even a week after my bout with illness, I am not quite back to healthy. I've only recently regained some of my appetite, and I still am very, very tired most of the day. I've lost trust in my body. Where I once new what to expect from it depending on how I felt, the unexpected display of sickness that came over me last weekend has now caused me to second guess every twinge, ache, or gurgle coming from my body. I'm unsure of myself, what I'm capable of, or what I might do.

This all comes at probably the worst possible time, as I'm in the last few weeks of an intense training program for a 100-mile bike ride. The dastardly flu bug rendered me unable to exercise for about a week. I haven't eaten well in at least a week, so my strength and energy level is not where it should be to exercise properly, as I had been before the ailment.

I attempted to get back on schedule for the weekend, although I took it easy on Saturday with only a 30 mile ride. I needed to do more for Sunday, but I wanted to be smart about it. However, in my fourth lap around the lake on Sunday, I simply ran out of energy. I had to quit at 38 miles, far below my 56 mile mark for the day.

It was something I hadn't experienced since I was a kid battling the effects of asthma while trying to run and play with the other kids. Even then, it wasn't like what I felt yesterday on my bike. I just simply couldn't keep going. I pretty much coasted back to my Jeep for the last few miles. I knew it would be foolish to try and force any more biking for the day. My first few laps felt fine, and I felt sure I'd get in all the mileage for the day. But the fourth lap just zapped me of all strength.

It depressed me for much of the rest of the day. I was disappointed that I couldn't will my body to perform at the level I needed it to perform. My training had been going really well up until the flu hit. Now with only a few weeks left until the big ride, I need to make every moment count towards increasing my stamina and endurance. This was a setback I hadn't planned for, and I was frustrated with my body for not cooperating. Why can't it just do what I've asked it to do?

But more than that, I was scared. As I sat in the Jeep at the lake, drinking fluids to recover from the ride, and pondering what had just happened, I realized this was the first moment that the thought of not being able to complete the training and the ride was a real possibility. Everything had been going so well. I was so excited about my progress to date, and even more excited about the big day. I've never trained for anything like this before, and I was amazed at how well I was responding to the training. I hadn't been sick til last week, I hadn't been injured, I'd sacrificed time doing other things and spending time with people for the sake of doing this thing right. I'd bought all the right equipment to really commit to the event. I'd pictured everything going as planned, down to the last second of crossing the finish line after it was all over. But at that moment, sitting still at the lake, the fear that I might get out there that day and not make it through the ride became a reality.

This shook me up the rest of the day. I hated the way I felt. I was tired, I was weak. And I was defeated.

I knew this before starting the process of training for this ride. But yesterday it became even more clear to me that the strength it will take to complete my training and conquer this ride will not come from me. I am merely mortal.

C.T.