I’m writing this now because I remember years ago desperately searching the interwebs for some kind of written material that would provide more insight on this mysterious and half crazy phenomenon known as “cycling on the Pacific Coast Highway.” I found a couple of sites with good info, but nothing with the sort of detail I wanted. Putting this out there so that the SEO gods may guide it into the browser of whichever new lost soul is seeking answers.
When I was little and wanted to quit something, my mother would say, “There will be things you won’t want to do at West Point, but you’ll still have to do them.”
Even though I ultimately chose not to follow in my father’s footsteps and attend the US Military Academy at West Point, the lesson was still learned—that life would present obstacles that, while unappealing, I would have to find ways to persevere through.
Today was the day. After the training and dreaming and waiting it finally happened — I raced my first triathlon!
This weekend I had the joy of participating in the 9th Annual Redondo Beach Triathlon. The race features a competitive Sprint division for both newbies and established athletes, along with a non-competitive Mini Sprint for friends and families. I heard about the race about three weeks ago, and signed up for the Mini, wanting to focus solely on getting down the basics of racing before worrying about competition. But with a just over one week left before race day, I decided to go all out and upgrade to the full on Sprint — a half-mile swim, 6 mile bike ride, 2 mile run.
Learning to ride a bike as a kid was a process. I don’t remember much of the process (or otherwise repressed most of it). All that remains are grainy film strip images of rising over hills and coasting down with occasional falls and scraped knees. Thank goodness my parents didn’t let me quit.