In Real Life
It sounds really nice but in practice, it hurts. Everything I ever imagined that could hurt on the bike—plus more—ended up hurting at some point: hands, wrists, forearms, knee, achilles, feet, lower back, upper back, middle back, neck, all of it.
The hours stack on each day, and with each passing hour, the precision excavation of your old self goes continually deeper. And then, at some point, the nerves are exposed. I’m just bare. I cried a few times during the CCC. I’m not entirely sure why; there would be these moments where these great heaving sobs would just well up from inside, the tears would flow, and I’d descend. Riding down swooping, wonderful turns with monster views, this weird little human crying the whole way down. I don’t know why.