The Climb
In one of my previous lives, I was with a partner who was quite into cycling. Fast bikes. Racing bikes. And well, as a man, at least, me anyway, you do your best to please your partner.
We already had some experience traveling with a travel agency called “G Adventures”. During a search for a vacation, we saw that this agency offered a cycling trip in Spain. A 6-day group tour in northern Spain.
So yes, I signed up, along with my partner at the time. We went cycling in Spain. And coincidentally, I now see, through my OneDrive subscription, all the photos from that trip coming back. It was exactly this time of year.
Now you should know: I’m not much of a cyclist. But anyway, I went along with the thought: we’ll make the best of it. I borrowed two of those typical cycling shorts from a work colleague. Very warm, but absolutely essential.
Once we arrived, we were assigned our bikes. The idea was that we would cycle a section each day, each time to a new overnight spot. Everything was included and arranged: accommodation, breakfast, dinner, bikes, guidance. And then the next day, another section of cycling. Five days in a row.
Of course: the people who sign up for something like this are really into cycling. Not tourist bikes, eh – these were racing bikes. And I… I cycled along with the group. Every day I rode at the back. I couldn’t keep up with those people. Really couldn’t.
There was also a guide, a man I still admire. He always rode at the front to show the way, but regularly dropped back to check on me. Just to see if I was still there, if it was still going, a short word, and then he cycled back to the front to give directions to the lead group. It wasn’t a race, but we cycled briskly.
As I said: I always rode at the back. But well, it was tough, we did our best, and rested in the evenings. And I made it every day.
But where I’m going is the following.
At a certain point, we had to go over a mountain. Or was it a big hill? The slope was quite steep, about 15%, I think. The idea was that we would all cycle up the mountain, and at the top, we would take a break.
Everyone flew up. And I… I arrived a bit later. But once you start, you have to stand on the pedals, of course. Not stay seated on your saddle but step by step, pedal after pedal, upright and push through.
I was greatly surprised when I started overtaking most of the frontrunners along the way. No, I wasn’t the first at the top. But I was one of the few who cycled all the way to the top without stopping, without getting off, persevering. Standing on the pedals, step by step, and go.
Because you never know how far it is. You don’t know what’s around the next bend. And at a certain point… I was there. At the top.
There were two or three people ahead of me. But I had left a whole bunch behind. Fellow travelers who had continued on foot or had to rest along the way.
And that… that’s actually the main thing that stuck with me from that cycling trip in Spain.
My partner thought it was a nice vacation. But well, between us, it ultimately didn’t last.
I did it. I cycled it out. And that blessing, that climb, that small victory, made the whole adventure so much sweeter.
It’s one of those little things I look back on with pride in later life. And still tell with pleasure.