"Pain is such an uncomfortable feeling that even a tiny amount of it is enough to ruin every enjoyment."

*This should really be two separate posts, but since it has been a while you get a 2 for 1 deal*

On Saturday May 5th, my alarm went off at 3am... THAT should be illegal in all states... and everywhere else.

But I needed an early start, for it was time for the Six Pillar bike ride in Cambridge, MD. After gathering up my, yet again, over packed bag - I met Nico [who made this day 100% awesome by joining me in this adventure], and after a short struggle to get my bike mounted onto his rack in the darkness that is 5am, we got going...we were going to bike 56 miles. The longest ride I had done up to this point was about 30 miles... and that was with an orange crush break half way through it. Even though I thought I could do it... there is always part of me that has doubt... there always is….

... and if you ever think for one moment that I thoroughly enjoy every moment of a work out, or of a race... you are wrong.

I don't think there is ever a workout that I thoroughly enjoy from start to finish. Even despite my efforts to psych myself up during a race - it comes to no surprise when I finally utter under my breath

Why am I doing this?

This day was no different.

Originally I had signed up for the 100 mile century ride, but being unsure of my biking ability since I've only had 2 good distances [outside] under my belt, I bumped down to just the 56 miles.. yup.. just 56 ;). Although, the 56 was more beneficial for me in that it is the same bike course as my Eagleman [Half Ironman] on June 10th.

The first 30 miles were … surprising… pretty enjoyable. The weather was beautiful, the ride was nice, the volunteers were great….  I was feeling good. I reached the 30 mile pit stop and hopped off my bike for a quick minute to scarf down a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and chug down some Gatorade.

I don’t want to stop for too long.

Except getting back on didn’t feel nearly as good as it did when I get off.

It is always harder to start once you stop

It also didn't help that this was the point in which the wind changed.

The wind. Oh goodness.

When I talk about the Eagleman and the ChesapeakeMan [same location] I get the same response. Flat and Windy. It was at this mile... and the next 26 miles... that I learned what they meant. It was a wind that had not only me cursing, but any other cyclist that I came in close vicinity with. We would share our pains about the invisible wall we were now riding into, before we were to put our heads back down into the wind.

Why am I doing this?

My speed was dropping.

Is it really this windy? Or are my legs just too tired?

At mile 35 I looked down at my bike computer... Just 11 more miles... less than an hour left of this. Yes ... I know. 35 plus 11 does not equal 56... so you can imagine my disappointment a few miles later when I realized my mathematical failure. I blame the dehydration and lack of sodium for my temporary lapse in ability to do skillful addition....

To help ease the pain of the endless miles, I thought of 4 things.

1. Do better than Nico

2. [After catching up to him] Don't let Baker pass you.

3. Who is this random guy? He needs to eat my dust.

4. The guy in front of me is my coach Troy. Don't lose that butt. [only the Millers will understand that one].

At last, the end was near... the actual end and not the one I made up in my mind at mile 35. In front of me was the finish line. I let go of my bike and raised my hand to wave at the camera as I passed by... remembering how silly I looked in my Rumpus pictures, I tried to be a bit more photogenic.

Now this isn't something I like to admit... but I am going to anyway. There were a ton of bugs... and when I looked down, dead bugs were plastered all over my body. Gross? Yes. and whereas that is true, that isn't what I was going to admit.

I was successful in all 56 miles .... clip - unclip - clip - unclip - repeat. And as I passed under that big blowup balloon of glory, I was feeling good… I beat Nico, I passed Matt [even if it was because he stopped at all the rest stops]… and although it would have been miserable, I could have done 44 more to complete the century. Also – and most importantly – I felt good about finishing in 03:15:00. For being flat and windy – I feel that this isn't half bad… especially since it was my third ride… and also because less than 2 months ago I was posting about my inability to stay on my bike for more then 5 feet without crashing to the ground.

As I cruised through the end, I was going to do my own little victory lap behind the finish line - although, at the last minutes, I changed my mind out of sheer desire to rescue my lady bits from the painful bike seat.

Big mistake.

I'm not sure if it was the last minute change of plans, or that my legs were more wobbly then I expected ... but one minute I was unclipping and placing my right foot on the ground, and the next minute I was laying on my right side with my left foot refusing to unclip. After a successful 56 miles of no falling... and despite actually having my foot unclipped and down... I still fell... [sigh].

I suppose the shining ray of light in this situation is that it was past the finish and free from any cameras….

I can see it now.. the new cover photo for the Six Pillar Century facebook page.. Amy cursing as she violently kicks her unclipped foot out of anger…

Eventually I got up, dusted myself off and walked away avoiding eye contact with any nearby spectators... sporting a new wicked bruise on both my thigh and my ego. In just a couple of steps though, my clenched jaw turned into a smile because, despite my fall, I was still proud, and those Why am I doing this thoughts were far gone.

This is why.

The post-race feeling is one like no other. It is the "high" people always speak of. You can't expect it during the race ... it comes the moment you cross under the overhead banner that reads:

F-I-N-I-S-H

And it is a feeling much greater than any doubt, any pain, any question of sanity you may have.

It is worth it.

-----

With two races coming up in the next month, I have been trying to fit in training whenever I can. Today, I ran to the train station. I'm hoping to do that at least 3 times a week... and if I do, then that will add at least 12 miles of running into my week. The downside to this, is that I will always smell on the train and I will not look good at work.... [don't worry - they do at least have a shower here].

A friend of mine recently posted a blog on the topic of feeling pretty, and it hit closer to home then she probably realizes.

Ever since looking at my race pictures from Rumpus, I haven't felt very girly... or pretty... and it doesn't help that someone said I looked like a boy in them.

I know I am pretty muscular.... I have broad shoulders, small boobs and my only saving grace to even resembling a lady is my curvy hips and large buttock [ugh]. And lets face it.. I live in gym clothes. If I am not at work, I am in them ... and even still, there are times at work that you can catch me in them. I don't mind it. I am comfortable in them… I am used to it.... but I also know it doesn't scream "I'm a girl".

I'm not a girly girl. I never will be - nor do I want to be. But despite my masculine interests and my 'one of the guys' personality ... I am still a girl, and I do like to look 'nice'. You'll never catch me saying that I am prettiest girl in the room ... it isn't a lack of confidence - it is just being real. But recently, I haven't felt pretty at all. Some of this comes from some personal things going on... and I'm sure most of it comes from that fact that I am always in spandex, no makeup, knotted hair and have sweat dripping from my face.

.... Because of this, I've tried to dress up a little bit more at work... and people have stopped dead in their tracks and said "wow, you look like girl". Whereas they give me a nice compliment by saying I look nice that day, the "wow, you look like a girl" hits hard.

I am a girl

I am just an athletic girl

But now I feel that if I don't have on fashionable clothes, have my hair just right, or strut around in a pair of heels ... that I don't look pretty, and that I do look like a boy.

Someone commented recently that I don't try.... that "I could be prettier if I put some effort into it".

Perhaps they are right – I don’t try. It isn't that I don't want to... I enjoy dressing up. I enjoy a sexy pair of heels and a nice dress ... but right now, if I have an hour to get dressed up, train, or sleep... I am going to train or sleep.... it is just how my priorities fall right now.

I don’t feel very pretty, no.

But I want to.