Had a great bike ride today with two of my favorite people ... my cousin and my brother-in-law.
Now, both are far more experienced cyclists than I am. They have fancier bikes, those cool shoes that clip into their pedals and have logged many, many more miles in many, many more situations: 100-mile trips for several days in a row, downhill racing in truly dangerous terrain ... you get the idea.
Today, however, they both agreed to an "all for one and one for all" approach to the Tour de Fort with me. We had 18-, 36- or 62-mile options, and since I had never gone much farther than 32 to 34-ish miles before, I cautiously agreed to the 36-miler.
And now I wish I had aimed higher.
We finished the 36 miles in about 2 hours and 45 minutes, and that included a 10-minute potty break in the middle. We covered a lot of ground, waved at a lot of nice people along the way, and I even got stung by a bee.
But in the end, I had a bit more in the tank and wish we had opted for the longer distance.
This is a theme I run across all the time. I almost never regret doing just a bit more or pushing myself just a little farther. But I almost always regret quitting early or taking it easy just because my head talks me into feeling "too tired" or "too winded" or whatever.
My body is capable.
Maybe, just maybe, I can convince one of my two riding partners to take another Sunday morning to get 60 miles in just so I can say I did it.
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