Standing at the Trailhead of Winter

Three years ago, I completed my first century ride, the Swedish Days ride that's a couple hours drive north of us. Hubby and I drove up the evening before and spent the night so I could get some decent sleep before having to get up early the next morning. We planned to ride together for the first 25 miles or so, at which time Hubby would return to the start and wait on me to finish the 100 miles. After Hubby turned back, I rode on alone, being sure to follow the cue sheet and arrows on the roads, as well as making sure to stop at the rest areas to eat and drink. The final rest area was about 15 or 20 miles from the finish, and after eating some fruit and a cookie, I started off to complete the ride. Nine miles out, I turned to go east, the final leg of the 100 miles, and found myself facing a nasty headwind. I slogged on, determined I was going to finish. I finally reached the parking lot where Hubby was waiting, and as I neared the truck, I was overcome with emotion, something tha...

Yes, I did it. I completed my first century ride, the Swedish Days Ride just west of Chicago. In the end, exhausted, almost overwhelmed by having actually finished something I've longed to do for a year now, I could only lean against the truck and take deep breaths to stay calm. The last ten miles forced me to dig deep mentally and physically, and at times I doubted my strength. Thankfully, at that ten miles to go point, I could see the tower marking what I thought of as home. I kept my sights on it and just kept pedaling. The last leg was maybe a mile, all uphill and into the wind. I put my head down, telling myself Hubby, food, and clean clothes were right around the corner. Turning into the school drive, I didn't have to pedal any longer. I coasted from the top of the drive down to the truck parked in the lot just outside the school. Like with all the crazy things I do, Hubby was there, and when I saw that smile of his, when we high-fived, I just wanted to grab hold of him...