I worry a lot.
Lately, I've been worrying about an upcoming couple of triathlons, the Ransom Canyon, and the Buffman and Squeaky (aka, the "squeaky buttman") . Both start with a lake swim, and then you hop on your bike and pretty much come out of transition going straight up to climb up out of the canyon. Then you go out over rolling hills, descend into Yellow Horse Canyon and out again, and then come back.
Anyway, I kept Husband awake all night worrying out loud about whether I could do this. Should I do this? Am I ready for this. What about those hills? I might have an asthma attack. What if my heart explodes or something? What if I throw up or something? I might not be able to make it up out of the canyon. Could I have a heart attack trying to do this? What about those hills? I might get my first DNF; that would be so humiliating. Would he still love me if I DNF'd? I'd practice on some of the hills around where we live but the drives are so INSANE! What if one of them hit me! What about those hills? And so on.
I came home today and husband had our bikes racked on the car and his GPS and said, "C'mon, let's try some hills". I was even too tired from the 8th-graders to muster up a good excuse, so I mumbled and fumbled around for sunglasses and biking clothes, and we were off.
First, he took me up a hill near our house that's about a 7.7% grade. "How was that?" he asked.
"Sucked, but doable," I gasped at the top.
"That was the hill out of Buffalo Springs," he said.
Really? I mean, it was tough, but it was doable. Really? Why, that wasn't so bad. After all, I did it. With some practice, I might not even feel like throwing up at the top.
It turns out Husband spent his day off mapping out some grades and hills near our house, looking for ones with nice, wide shoulders and/or no traffic, so that I can practice, particularly to and from work. He has a history of doing stuff like this, setting things up for me so that my life is easier and/or I have no more excuses for backing away from a challenge. The slothful Athena hates it because she gets very little chance to say, oh, well, too hard - not gonna do it. The rest of me is amazed and gratified that I married someone who knows me well enough to push me just hard enough - not too hard - so that I get to be all I can be.
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