Member-only story
My not so graceful fall
I want to tell you a story about a fearless woman who at almost 48 went hurdling down a mountain on her latest biking escapade. She’d been prepping for months and was now fully ready to meet the mountain on her terms and finally cross the finish line. She suited up that day in the biking outfit she once swore she’d never wear. She used to scoff at spandex. How on earth can that even be comfortable? But, this past year, she’d decided to let go of all of those judgements and commit to riding.
The race started at exactly 9 a.m. It was a beautiful blue-sky day. The sun had just woken up and it’s soft orange and yellow light spread ever so softly across the curves of the mountains. She knew if she could keep pace she may be able to escape the heat that would threaten to take hold of her body by mid afternoon.
At about 1 p.m., and nearing the last leg of the race, she felt her body begin to succumb to fatigue. Little rivulets of sweat formed underneath her eyes and made their way down her cheeks and into the stifling air. Come to think of it, where wasn’t she sweating? Even with constant water intake her entire body felt aflame. She tried to focus on the race ahead — the sounds of the birds chirping, the cheers from the crowd as she passed them, but all she could in fact notice was how wretched she felt. This word “wretched”, this was what ruled her experience. And so in her very…
