Several years ago I went on what bicyclists refer to as a “double century”—a one-day 200-mile bicycle ride. Although I did not know any of the hundreds of other participants, I suspected I’d be among the slowest. So it was a bit of a surprise when I was almost instantly scooped up in a spirit of camaraderie with other cyclists. This drew us together.
Somehow it felt as if the collective focus was on helping as many of us as possible finish the ride. Never mind who came in first. About 80 miles into it, a cyclist I’d been keeping pace with for a while rhetorically asked, “Is this getting easier or what?” That kind of positive outlook kept the mental atmosphere supportive. It also rang true. At that point the ride somehow felt as if it really was getting easier!
Fast-forward one bike century. About 180 miles into the ride it was no longer getting easier. Night had long since fallen. I’d been laboring along alone for hours. My prayers for strength were closer to empty than they were to full of inspiration.
