An Existential Assertion

I offer a different response every time I am asked why I do `the bike.'

Health.  Stress reduction.  It `wears me out.'  Etc.

Yesterday I added another reason.

I registered for a 12 hour `time trial.'  A race against the clock.  To cover as much ground (miles) as possible on the bike within the 12 hours.  

Objectively I did what I had expected.  Subjectively I gained much more than kudos for the numbers on the board.  

In the past I have often ridden the bike much, much further.  Taking more time to do it, with less intensity.  

So, yesterday, after 6.5 hours of intense effort without a break I was physically ready to call it a day.  ("Good numbers, Dan!") I did well, performance wise.  And here is where the `subjective' gain comes in.

I decided that I was going push on for another 5.5 hours, to pedal at a power level far greater than was comfortable.  Recalling my previous blog post on Degrees of Discomfort I was mindful of the fact that my discomfort level was past `soreness,' past `ache.'  But I didn't experience any `pain' that would be my body's way of telling me I was doing physical damage.  Even after the last 1.5 hours of almost maximum effort I just barely scratched `fatigue.'  

I've never pushed that hard, so consistently, for so long.  Every time my mph got below a figure I'd realize I was slacking off in effort and would increase the power and effort in pedaling.  

It was an endless dialogue.

"It would feel so good just to back off the watts."

"But you're only feeling the first two levels of discomfort (sore and achy).  That is not a good enough reason to back off the watts.  You're not risking physical damage or letting your ego talk you into injury."

And then I'd push harder.  

For 12 hours.  No letup.  

The `numbers on the board' mean almost nothing to me.  And the awareness that I have the fortitude to accomplish this `existential' assertion means everything to me.  A reason for living.

Sebring 2016