Some days I feel like a failure. Today was one of those days.
Ged and I headed out for a 37km ride up to Monte Morello. There are two ways to climb Monte Morello: the easy way or the hard way. We went the hard way.
It get’s a little steep (around 10%-12%) at the beginning of the climb, then about halfway through, there’s a friggin’ wall–a stretch of road that seems to go straight up.
When the climb kicked up to 15%, I started to struggle. The legs barely turned the pedals. I said “f*ck it” and shifted into the triple. I had to zigzag just to keep momentum. And then I started to lose control of the front wheel.
With every pedal stroke, the wheel would leave the ground for a second. I got out of the saddle. Ouch. That hurts even worse. As I was about to call it quits and take a break, I had trouble unclipping.
Down I went.
I was furious and extremely embarrassed. How could I not get up this climb in the triple?! I’ve been riding for a while now (at least in my mind).
I felt like a failure, like I had made no gains as a cyclist since I started riding 2.5 years ago.
I got up and put my cleat covers on. I was going to finish this climb, even if I had to walk (yes, walk) the steep part.
After a couple of minutes of walking, I told myself to stop being a wimp and get back on.
The climb wasn’t over, but the steep part was. Even though my arm was bleeding and my legs were shaking, I was so pissed that I didn’t care about anything else except finishing the ride.