I descend the last 20 miles with a spectacular view of the Pacific Ocean. Unfortunately, I only remember the turbulent blue water and sea gulls flying overhead. There’s simply not enough time to take in your surroundings when you are on two thin wheels speeding downhill with the wind.At this point, there are only 12 of us out of the initial 100 or so riders. Most of them stopped a while back when their legs started hurting from climbing uphill. I am also in pain; my legs started burning half an hour ago. My legs tremble and my bike sways every time I stand up to accelerate, but I keep going.If anyone is watching us (which I doubt they are), this is just another charity event for AIDS. So why don’t I stop if I’m so tired? This thought has entered my mind more than once. To be realistic, I have no ambition on finishing first because I am already at the end of the pack. Then, what motivates me in a free event where all I receive are some snacks and Gatorade? First, I would be lying to myself if I said I’m only in this to support an organization. Instead, I am here to push myself to my limit because if I don’t I am afraid I will never understand myself.I finally cross the finish line and dismount. My legs don’t give in, and I don’t feel an overwhelming sense of fatigue as I walk to the bench. No, my first sense is that of accomplishment. Is this the best I can do? Perhaps, but I will never be certain until next time.
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