The Man on the Withlacoochee Trail

I always like to preface my longer posts with “Don’t expect high quality writing”

So we continue…

A long ride. A very long ride. One I will never take again. Driving that is. 1,100 miles with two kids is not the most fun you can have on vacation. I should have known that from the start. There was nothing they did wrong though. IT was me though I won’t get into specifics in this post other than me not being comfortable with them in an airplane. The trip was well worth it overall though. I wouldn’t make those same sacrifices again, but I’m glad everyone enjoyed the time we had there.

Let’s talk about Effort.

There was one day in particular that gave me some perspective on “effort”. My step-father asked me to go on a bike ride. I brought my bike with me for this very reason. Florida has some wonderful paved trails. The closest being 5 miles away from my parents house where we were staying. It’s also the 2nd longest paved trail in the state of Florida at 46 miles. I didn’t have the time to travel that distance though. I kept at my step-fathers pace for the better part of the ride. I would speed up for short spurts without having him feel abandoned since one of his friends tagged along. We turned around at the 8 mile mark (Their usual turn our point). From there I kept pace with them for another couple minutes. We weren’t traveling more than 12 miles-per-hour. I needed to get my heart rate up so I picked up some speed…

I came to a crosswalk where cars were flying by. I didn’t have to wait for than a few seconds for someone to let me go. I get back on the trail and another rider flies by me. “Oh no you don’t!” I thought to myself. I’m not too familiar with the difference between a TT bike and a bike used for Triathlons but it doesn’t matter, it was one of those. The guy was flying. I picked up speed and caught up. He was keeping up a very high average speed…at least for me. It took me more effort to keep up with him than it took for him to keep up the speed he was traveling. He may have had a lighter bike, better hardware and what not, but he was still at a disadvantage. He was a bigger man and he was breaking the wind for me.

The man looked back a few times, I figured he was getting a little uncomfortable with me following just 10 feet behind him. I shouted over to him…”Don’t mind me! I’m just trying to keep up, you’re making me better!”. I didn’t know what else I could say. He understood though. Along the way he gave me hand signals as we approached more road ways that we had to cross to continue on the trail. This must have been the fastest 6 miles I’d ever covered. We couldn’t have averaged less than 20 miles-per-hour. I could have went another 8-10 miles at this pace. A pace I never thought I could average over this sort of length. There was no head, tail or cross wind. We were very lucky. It was a beautiful day.

There were moments where I started to fall behind. I didn’t want to kick myself for staying behind so I pushed on and caught back up with the athlete.

Why do I call him an athlete?

I’ve been alone in my fitness journey most of my life. I haven’t been impressed often. This man on the Withlacoochee Trail impressed me. He couldn’t be any younger than 63 or so. This man is an athlete. I’m not the fastest, strongest and definitely not the biggest. There are people far more fit than I’ am, but I don’t see them often at all. I wish I’d met people where I live that kept up with their fitness like this man. It would push me to do things I didn’t think I was capable of and I would do the same for them in return. I haven’t met many people that share my passion for fitness due to time constraints, not because they’re not out there. No other reason other than that.

I do have one thing I could have done differently on the ride. As we blew past several walkers, runners and other cyclists I realized my ride was coming to an end. The place where we parked was very close and I wouldn’t be following this guy anymore. The trail took a winding left turn and I stopped just before it straightened again. I had to make a right. The man kept going straight. I shouted a “Thank you”. He waved and continued on.

I stayed behind. I wish I hadn’t. The trail led straight to my parent’s development 6 miles away. I could have gotten back to the house in the time it took my step-father to catch up to me after I’d stopped. My keys were in my truck. I could have called him and let him know where they were. The past is the past. I’m glad I had the experience and I know to take advantage of it next time.

This month I’m planning my century ride that was supposed to take place last month. Time has been tight recently. Nevertheless, I gained confidence in taking that ride.

Thank you sir, whoever you are. I won’t forget the man that pushed me harder and faster than I thought I could handle. That man on the Withlacochee Trail.