A goal met...

Late last year, I heard some people talking about "the metric century".  Apparently that's a pretty common challenging distance for cyclists to travel.  There are even some races of that distance.  Of course we are talking 100 km (62 miles).

The longest distance I had ever biked was around 54 miles.  I decided that this year I would try to do a metric century.  That was a summer's goal.

Then?  Shit happens, and goals don't always get met.  Chakotay got sick, plans got interrupted, it rained or it was unbearably windy... The goal was never hit.

Now backing up for a minute, this week was complete chaos.  We had another graduation for my clients and I was crazy busy.  I felt out of control at times, and my stress and anxiety skyrocketed.  And when it was over, I crashed.  I don't know that I had been holding it together that well, but I don't know that I have totally dealt with Chakotay's death - that he is gone.  Although these things come in waves, too as many of you know.  I was DONE.

I felt defeated and unbearably sad.  About everything.  And so I looked at me.  My life, my past, my goals.  I can't control everything at once.  But there was a goal sitting out there.  One simple goal.

So at 9:40 this morning I got on my bike.  I started to ride.  My goal was 62 miles in under 4 hours.  I rode around 2 local points that jut into Lake Ontario.  The lake was calm and beautiful.  I tried to be fully present in the moments rather than all up in my head.  I waved at runners and fellow bikers.  

3 hours and 54 minutes later I pulled into our driveway at 62.04 miles.

It wasn't all that spectacular of a time, and it's not like 62 miles is some amazing feat, but it was a goal met.  And the ride gave me a lot of time to think.  When I got back I showered and then went outside with a hot mug of coffee, a banana, and sat in the warm fall sun throwing a ball for Archer, and in that space of time it felt somehow like I had had a breakthrough.

More to come on that note...