But when I got to 50 miles, there was an osprey circling over the rest stop, crying out that we were too big for it, that we were scaring its fish. And I just got off my feet, sat on a huge rock and rested a bit. The next rest stop was mile 63, and I knew I could make another 13 miles. So, I kept going.

The fields were chock full of crops: onions, wheat, strawberries. Workers bent double to peak beneath leaves and pick the fruit by hand. One small group of workers turned to me, right as I passed. I waved, and they straightened up, laughed, and gave back a wave. Another great moment came when a man, who looked like Rasputin with forked gray beard and Cossack hat, a very stern expression on his face, trudged up the road. When I waved at him, his face burst into a smile, cracked open, and he laughed. Many people who have never seen a recumbent bike think it is a merry machine.

At the very end of the ride, I was not so merry. In the last half mile I knew there was a hill, one of the steepest of the ride, and I yelled out in dismay. But this ride, unlike the last century, I did not walk. I made it.

And two weeks later, I’m a bit stunned that I rode a 100 miles. Why do I do it?
–to test myself because I know there are so many tests ahead
–to explore the edge
–to know which things matter (workers laughing, the smell of onions, the texts from Cheryl encouraging me)
–and more.