This one's for Liz!

Stage 17 is in the books and will go down as the most climbing in one day anyone should think about doing unless their life depends on it. After yesterdays hypothermic experience you can imagine my despair when I awoke this morning to a cold and dreary rain, low gray clouds over the mountains and storm and wind warnings for the evening. I looked out the window of the Moho at 8 am and wanted to crawl into a hole. Stage 17 had 180 kilometers with four Category 1 Climbs and one Cat 2. It was going to be insane on a sunny day but this was just too much. I rolled over, covered my head and thought this may be the day I take a ride in the passenger seat. The bathroom in the campground we were staying at was just 50 yards away so I eventually got up reluctantly to the call of nature and slogged my way over to the restroom. While I had a few moments to myself, I reflected on a topic my family and I had discussed at length before the trip: what would I consider a success on this trip? Would success be defined as finishing all the stages? Would success be doing as many as I could and then just following the race as a spectator? Was it a success just to be here to give it a try? We all (Julie, Mike, Liz and I) agreed that this fundamental question needed to be answered before leaving for Europe. The answer came to me one day in a sole searching phone conversation with my daughter Liz. The answer to success that I could convince myself and my family of was simply to get up every day and start. No matter how sore, how tired, how crappy outside, how unmotivated, simply start. I believed inside that once I started that anything after that was possible and at that point I would be in control of my own destiny. We all know how difficult that first step can be. It plays out everyday in our lives at home, at work, even at play. The first step is often the most difficult. A very motivating physician I became acquainted with in the early 1990’s, George Sheehan MD, was a cardiologist, author, motivational speaker and nationally recognized marathon runner. He once autographed a picture for me that says, “Remember Dave, there is no finish line!” The dichotomy of a start without a finish seems somewhat unfulfilling on the surface, like purgatory in a way. But the more you think about it, it helps you focus more on the beginning and the journey without the finality of an end. Perhaps that’s why “endings” can tend to be anticlimactic or less fulfilling than the body of the story. So after this moment of deep thinking I slogged back to the Moho and I just quietly started putting on my cycling clothing. Julie looked at me and asked me what I was doing and I simply said “I’m riding”. She and Jerry both looked stunned, I think they too thought this was the day that would push me back under the blankets. It rained almost all day, it sleeted on the climb up the Col de Roseland, that is until I got toward the top when it turned to snow, I was frozen again. I put on every layer I could on the decent and I froze some more. I had to stop twice because I could not feel my brakes. The next 4 climbs offered more of the same, After 8+ hours of riding I climbed off my bike in the village of Le Grand Bornand, France. The day was over, “success” was in hand, all because I simply started. Every day on this trip has taught me something and today’s lesson was simple, “just start”. Thank’s Liz!