Fuck you depression
Fuck you fuck you fuck you
Fuck you Diabetes I hope you fucking choke on a stick.
Bipolar you're a piece of shit and i hope you also choke on a stick.
Fuck you you invisible fucking bees. I hate you i hate you i hate you.
Fuck you for thinking you can run my life. Fuck you for thinking YOU make the choices for me.
Fuck you for deciding how i feel every waking fucking moment of my life.
FUUUUCK YOOOOOU
Wednesday
F I N I S H
I'm still flying pretty high off of finishing my ride. I am in awe and disbelief that I actually completed it. I'm not known for being a completer, can you believe that? I have a lot of hair-brained ideas that sometimes I start and don't finish or think of and abandon as quickly as the thought appears. I think it was late 2009 when I first had the idea to participate in the Tour de Cure. I had my cute cruiser bike, the Cadillac of bikes as far as I was concerned. I was starting to dip my toes in the idea of actually caring for my health. The summer of 2010 would be when I put the pedal to the metal and rode 27 miles. 27 miles that's insane I thought, so did Mike. He offered to drive me to the start line and hang by at some near by bar until I finished cheering me on all the way. *cough*asshole*cough* In those days it took me 20+ minutes to ride the 1.5 miles into work. I would get there huffing and puffing, sweating and light headed but oh so proud and determined! By the summer I was still unsure that I could really pull it off but I was ready to give it the best shot I could. Then I got injured. I think if I had any idea what I'd actually signed up for I would have backed out anyway. Physically and mentally I was nowhere near in the condition that would be required to finish. But my back injury took care of that... then Daniel died within days of my injury. It was all almost more than I could bear and I was thankful for the drugs that kept me in a near constant haze all that time. I didn't give up the fight though. Next year, I vowed. Next year didn't happen. Couldn't tell you why, it just didn't. Funny it was right around the time we started to juice. We tried making juice for the first time a week or two before and we decided to do our first fast but first our last HURRAH! Meatgasm 2011, what a day of gluttony. I couldn't even imagine doing that again! Anyway, 2011 didn't happen either and I was pretty disappointed in myself. Mike and I started biking a bit more avidly, Mike way more than I as history has come to show! I had a shitty year and the clouds got heavier and darker. I don't know if I ever made the conscious decision but 2012 would be my year. And so far it has been. I could have and should have ridden my bike more, longer and further but I didn't. I decided at some point that 27 miles was not sufficient. That was my goal for 2 years and for 2 years I failed. So somewhere in my bent logic 43 seemed more likely, more of a challenge perhaps? This year, Mike Jones would not be sitting on the side lines drinking while I rode. This year Mike Jones would be riding with me, not along side me but with me none the less. He was far more prepared for this than I could have prayed to be but I didn't go into it planning to give up.
Saturday morning arrived sooner than I expected but there I was making a dream come true. In my padded shorts, my red rider jersey and my very own first ever numbered bib. Beaming and grinning from ear to ear at the front of the start line.
As the ride started I felt pretty strong, leading the pack but soon more and more riders started zipping past me in their super light road bikes, well more prepared for this than I on my cruiser bike with my camel back and bottle of juice! I kept going though, kept pushing through. Then the hills came, and they kept coming. I fell further and further behind but I didn't care I was doing it! So full of pride and excitement! Go red rider go! The traditional chant in the Tour de Cure, as you pass a rider or a rider passes you who is a diabetic you encourage them. It had been maybe 30 minutes in when I reached what was possibly the longest and steepest hill I have come across in my life. All I could think was f*ck this!! What the hell was I thinking? I got myself right off that bike and started hoofing it up the side of this cliff. Ok it wasn't a cliff but jeez! I thought it would go on forever and I might just lay down and die. I wondered, is it too early to give up? Then a group of older riders came zipping past me. I don't know how!! But one of them called out to me that I was almost there, is there an end to this hill I asked? And to my shock and dismay he slowed down and doubled back. He suggested I shift down and get back on the bike because I was almost there and really it would be easier to pedal than walk it. So I took his advise and he was right, I was so tired of walking it felt easier to ride. He rode slowly with me until I reached the top, he promised I could do it and suggested I enjoy the views the best part of this sort of humanly torture. We reached the top and he went right while I headed left and down hill! I finally reached the first rest stop just over 12 miles in. I was already so emotionally broken by the hills and the intensity. I was tired, hot, lonely and discouraged. I sat on the curb with a banana and cried. How could I be so weak and ready to quit after 12 miles? I needed prayers to carry me through. And I got them, I got back on my bike and my phone started going off with the support and love of so many friends and family and Mike's messages urging me to carry on despite how hard it felt because it would be worth it. I started pedaling again and for a while I still wanted to turn back, to find someone who would call a support vehicle to pick me up but I kept pedaling. All my wonderful friends carried me through until the next rest stop. Another enormous hill was there to greet me before I could reach it. Oh the cursing, you wouldn't think I was on my way to a church by the sounds coming out of my mouth. I would have washed my own mouth out with soap! When I reached the top the rest stop was being broken down and it only helped to make me feel like a failure. Here I am riding on my own, one of the last out there running so slowly that these people are leaving. One of the volunteers asked me if I was giving up. Even though I had been telling myself the whole way to just quit, give up, you're not good enough for this what were you thinking? All of that got pushed aside when she asked me that. Maybe it was my pride but no body tells me to quit but me. I got back on my bike so tired and sore and I rode on, down to the bottom of another hill that seemed to go on forever.
More than half way there now but the end felt impossible. I stopped, drank some water cursed at the road, got back on my bike and rode a few feet then got off again. I begged God to help, I cried out to Daniel because I know he's out there. I said to him We aren't quitters Daniel, we don't give up so help me goddammit! And I kept going. At one point one of the course marshals was riding behind me. All smug on his motorcycle riding slowly behind me because he thought I was the last rider out. I kept thinking are you fucking kidding me dude it's 1pm! There has to be at least a few century riders still going!! I was so angry at him and yet it gave me the resolve to keep going. I pressed on, rode harder because he was there with more determination knowing I could do it or give up and it meant nothing to him but the world to me. If Daniel was out there with me I know he played some part in that marshals presence.
Something happened during that second half of the ride; all of the negative self talk, telling myself I couldn't do it, that I was too fat, too slow, too weak to finish, all of that stopped. I stopped being so cruel to myself and remembered it was the hills I was angry at not myself. You're better than this hill, you are stronger and you are worth it so keep going because you can! This ride was such a symbolic trip. Those hills felt like the challenges in my life, the arduous journey through my life. Each of those hills was its own challenge or a memory of a struggle. Some were easy to ride past and others felt like they would make me crumble. None of them did. I did not quit. I could not believe I had made it when I reached the stadium and rode the last few yards towards the finish line. And as I reached the very end I heard over the speakers "Here is Zu, finishing her very first ride ever!!" and the clapping and the cheering. I made it I really made it! I got off my bike and I started bawling uncontrollable deep hard sobs. It was emotionally cleansing. I let go of so much through those tears.
I made it and I keep going. Go Red Rider Go!
Saturday morning arrived sooner than I expected but there I was making a dream come true. In my padded shorts, my red rider jersey and my very own first ever numbered bib. Beaming and grinning from ear to ear at the front of the start line.
As the ride started I felt pretty strong, leading the pack but soon more and more riders started zipping past me in their super light road bikes, well more prepared for this than I on my cruiser bike with my camel back and bottle of juice! I kept going though, kept pushing through. Then the hills came, and they kept coming. I fell further and further behind but I didn't care I was doing it! So full of pride and excitement! Go red rider go! The traditional chant in the Tour de Cure, as you pass a rider or a rider passes you who is a diabetic you encourage them. It had been maybe 30 minutes in when I reached what was possibly the longest and steepest hill I have come across in my life. All I could think was f*ck this!! What the hell was I thinking? I got myself right off that bike and started hoofing it up the side of this cliff. Ok it wasn't a cliff but jeez! I thought it would go on forever and I might just lay down and die. I wondered, is it too early to give up? Then a group of older riders came zipping past me. I don't know how!! But one of them called out to me that I was almost there, is there an end to this hill I asked? And to my shock and dismay he slowed down and doubled back. He suggested I shift down and get back on the bike because I was almost there and really it would be easier to pedal than walk it. So I took his advise and he was right, I was so tired of walking it felt easier to ride. He rode slowly with me until I reached the top, he promised I could do it and suggested I enjoy the views the best part of this sort of humanly torture. We reached the top and he went right while I headed left and down hill! I finally reached the first rest stop just over 12 miles in. I was already so emotionally broken by the hills and the intensity. I was tired, hot, lonely and discouraged. I sat on the curb with a banana and cried. How could I be so weak and ready to quit after 12 miles? I needed prayers to carry me through. And I got them, I got back on my bike and my phone started going off with the support and love of so many friends and family and Mike's messages urging me to carry on despite how hard it felt because it would be worth it. I started pedaling again and for a while I still wanted to turn back, to find someone who would call a support vehicle to pick me up but I kept pedaling. All my wonderful friends carried me through until the next rest stop. Another enormous hill was there to greet me before I could reach it. Oh the cursing, you wouldn't think I was on my way to a church by the sounds coming out of my mouth. I would have washed my own mouth out with soap! When I reached the top the rest stop was being broken down and it only helped to make me feel like a failure. Here I am riding on my own, one of the last out there running so slowly that these people are leaving. One of the volunteers asked me if I was giving up. Even though I had been telling myself the whole way to just quit, give up, you're not good enough for this what were you thinking? All of that got pushed aside when she asked me that. Maybe it was my pride but no body tells me to quit but me. I got back on my bike so tired and sore and I rode on, down to the bottom of another hill that seemed to go on forever.
More than half way there now but the end felt impossible. I stopped, drank some water cursed at the road, got back on my bike and rode a few feet then got off again. I begged God to help, I cried out to Daniel because I know he's out there. I said to him We aren't quitters Daniel, we don't give up so help me goddammit! And I kept going. At one point one of the course marshals was riding behind me. All smug on his motorcycle riding slowly behind me because he thought I was the last rider out. I kept thinking are you fucking kidding me dude it's 1pm! There has to be at least a few century riders still going!! I was so angry at him and yet it gave me the resolve to keep going. I pressed on, rode harder because he was there with more determination knowing I could do it or give up and it meant nothing to him but the world to me. If Daniel was out there with me I know he played some part in that marshals presence.
Something happened during that second half of the ride; all of the negative self talk, telling myself I couldn't do it, that I was too fat, too slow, too weak to finish, all of that stopped. I stopped being so cruel to myself and remembered it was the hills I was angry at not myself. You're better than this hill, you are stronger and you are worth it so keep going because you can! This ride was such a symbolic trip. Those hills felt like the challenges in my life, the arduous journey through my life. Each of those hills was its own challenge or a memory of a struggle. Some were easy to ride past and others felt like they would make me crumble. None of them did. I did not quit. I could not believe I had made it when I reached the stadium and rode the last few yards towards the finish line. And as I reached the very end I heard over the speakers "Here is Zu, finishing her very first ride ever!!" and the clapping and the cheering. I made it I really made it! I got off my bike and I started bawling uncontrollable deep hard sobs. It was emotionally cleansing. I let go of so much through those tears.
I made it and I keep going. Go Red Rider Go!
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