Brewed Fresh Daily

My good friend Paul, who I count as one person that has had significant impact on my outlook on life, writes a short passage on why he rode 121 miles in one day on his bike... he's addicted. And frankly, the addiction isn't one of substance abuse but of pushing himself to the limits and farther

The longer I bike, the more I realize that I am learning with each ride. I learn about limits, possibilities, heartbreak and accomplishment. And I learn about suffering. More and more lately, cycling to me has become about suffering -- where the real pleasure comes in the rebuilding of your mind and body, after you have torn everything down. Over a distance of 121 miles, the suffering comes as a battle between the physical and mental self. Using fuel where it can find it, the body begins the systematic process of deconstruction. First carbohydrates. Then fats and proteins. Eventually the body attempts to shut down muscles when there is nothing left -- the brain is literally, subconsciously attempting to preserve life. But there is something else between the shots of gel and sports drinks that pushes you forward -- a human element deep inside that does not let you quit. Even at mile 113, with your personal best beaten -- you pedal on, because you set the goal of 120 miles. You've come too far to stop now. So you turn the cranks. Pedal over pedal. Your mind wonders to places you rarely go -- facing the past, embracing the future and even contemplating parallel universes where little aliens ride bikes. Ultimately, this day, you have lived through an encapsulated journey that is symbolic of something bigger - a microcosm of life. The full spectrum of emotions well up as the body fatigues, until at times you are on the verge of breaking down, tears in the corners of your eyes and simply want to quit, but you don't. You continue. Always moving forward until that moment. The moment you step off the bike -- a moment of serenity where it's just your ragged body, a swift machine that shows no signs of wear and the sound of rushing air entering and exiting your lungs. The next day you are sore. Tired. Satisfied. And happy. Not to mention a few pounds lighter. All while filled with memories of blood racing through your heart at 196 beats per minute as you strained up a climb you had no business taking a bike up; floating through the day on the knowledge that you accomplished something you had never done before: 121. That's the joy that comes from suffering. The joy of being a cycling addict.