Count to Four

While vacationing in Southern Utah, I decided to work in a twenty mile ride from my hotel to my sister's home in St. George. I had traveled the route many times before and I longed for the chance to soak in the natural beauty of the red rock and the calming desert air. It wasn't too long of a ride and I felt the ascents would pose an enjoyable challenge, they would require some work but the effort would be well worth the price.

I eagerly began the ride even though I knew that the first several miles would require a steady rise. Every mountain demands a choice; turn back, attempt the ascent, or look for an easier route around. Some peaks become well known companions and highlights along a journey to a favorite destination. Others exploit any uncertainty and erode every personal sense of confidence. On this ride it was like meeting an old friend who suddenly seemed like an enemy.

I had loved this route because of the canyon pass where most every turn reveals a new and even more spectacular vista. But I had only known it from the comfort of a car. While planning the ride, I focussed on the beauty and overlooked the work that was in store. Making my way up the highway shoulder, I found myself almost entirely alone. Only occasionally did a car or truck pass me. Normally, I find that kind of solitude on a mountain bike trail ride and I find it refreshing. On this weekend morning the absence of company caused a sense of dread.

It wasn't long before my typical speed plummeted to barely five miles per hour. Each time I looked up I saw what I thought was the final push before the descent. Then I would look again. The hill just went higher. I started to wonder if I should turn back. But I had tackled steeper grades and conquered them even at the end of longer rides. Despite the doubt I persevered and committed to completing the journey. When I reached a plateau, I saw a gas station and decided to stop and ask for alternate directions. Maybe, I thought, there would be a way around.

When I got to the station I found that it was closed. There was no one around to ask. Still committed, I pressed forward. Upon encountering the next hill I dug deep to find the strength to overcome, I did not want to get off and walk. In that moment I forgot the goal of my destination and focussed on the immediate task at hand. One, two, three, four. I consciously counted each rotation, two by two. I no longer had to reach the peak, I just had to reach the next number. Four counts meant success. When I noticed my speed reached eight miles per hour I smiled with renewed energy. I pushed it to twelve just before the summit and I relished in the aches of success.