The bike ride started as expected. Swing down, flat road, up a short hill, pedal fast, moving, moving, moving. Through the headwind. Through the sunny roads. Pass the cars. Signal left. Signal right. Pedal. Cycle. Shift up. Climb. Plateau. Descend. Shift down. Balance well. Stand up. Fly down. Passing on the left. Passing on the right. Trees. Farmland. Berry land. Just a few more miles. Coastal beauty. Arrive at rest stop.

But then at some point, it became simply the road. A road that kept stretching for more than 60 miles. I had signed up for Strawberry Fields, lured by the promise of strawberries and cream at the end of the ride. Due to my experience on the Cinderella ride, I was immediately intrigued. Great food and a cycling route? I am in! And most of all, I convinced Chris, who had purchased a carbon fiber bike last year with an amazing deal. “You must use your bike for its intention,” I said.

Which obviously were for rides like this.

But then, as Chris zoomed ahead on the flats and my own stamina could not keep up, the feeling of being dropped was suffocating. Sure, I saw the sun, the stretch of coast, the creek underneath the canopy of redwoods, and endless fields of berry bushes. But I also felt the road riddled with pot holes and felts its bumpiness shake through my aluminum frame. I hear the stony voices yell “on your left” or sometimes not at all. Those century riders blazing past me at speeds that I could barely match. And I felt so left behind. That is, until climbs, where I was relatively good at pushing through my own pain and exhaustion…and where I would always catch up with Chris who preferred walking rather than riding. But down the descents where I was paranoid of losing balance and flying off the edge of the road, I slowed, falling behind until the cyclists who I once kept pace disappeared in the distance until they were small blips in my vision like birds passing through the horizon.

All I could hear was my breathing. And yes occasionally, I had moments of runner’s high. But then I would look up at the sky and wonder…did I enjoy this? The crunch of sand rolling with the winds? The pedaling on the roads unknown? I used to run in cross country regularly and began to hate it in graduate school. I began cycling, really only 5 years ago when I borrowed a road bike and more so when friends and I founded a facebook weekend bike group. And yet, here I was, pondering those thoughts of my own exhaustion, I really just wanted to use my skin resurfacing at home and be there already, I was felt totally drained.

But then I reached the end, within reasonable time, where I was offered the promised bowl of strawberries, whipped cream, and chocolate. I indulged in the raw sweet tart strawberries, dunking them into the fluffy cream and the thick chocolate. I ate 7, letting its berryness remind me of why I had signed up for the ride.