Moving the Bar

Today, I thought of Daddy.

I have two major biking events planned this year.  Belles on Bikes on May 3 and the Big Dam Bridge 100 on September 27.  Last year was the first time I did the Belles on Bikes and I rode 16 miles.  I did 50 miles in last year's Big Dam Bridge 100.  This year I want to do the maximums in both - 62 and 100 miles, respectively.

So, this morning I strike out to train.  Last Sunday I did an easy 9 miles to try and get back into the groove, as they say.  I drive out the Natchez Trace and get started .  Round about mile marker 6, I started an internal dialogue with myself .  "How far did I want to go today?  20 miles seemed good, but that would be double last week.  Would I pay for that later in the week?  Maybe, but I feel good right now.  No, 20 is too far."

I finally decided to turn around at the 8 mile marker.  That was a good spot.  I would give me 16 miles on the day.  Not quite double last week, but a good push.  And then I started thinking about next week, and the next.  I could go from 16 miles to 22, then to 30.  Push to 35 and then 42.  Working up the 62 since I felt like I had plenty of time to do it.  In my brain I said, "just gotta keep moving that bar."

Out of nowhere, literally, I had a very vivid visual memory of swimming in the "big pool" towards Daddy.  And him stepping back.  He wouldn't wait until you'd almost reach him, he'd start easing back after you started towards him.  I remember reaching him and sputtering "You moved!  You aren't supposed to move!  I want to do it again and DON'T MOVE this time!"

And of course, he did.  Never much.  Only a step or two.  "See how far you've come!  You can do it!"

"But, Daddy, I don't want you to move!"

While pushing me, he also allowed me to push myself.  Because I don't remember quitting.  Maybe I did, but I don't remember ever getting out of the pool and stomping off with a "if you aren't going to play right then I'm not going to play!" kind of attitude.  I just kept swimming out to him.

I know when you're a child, you don't really understand words like faith and trust but you know your daddy isn't going to stand there and let you drown just because you couldn't put in two more strokes.  He's going to scoop you up and hold you until you catch your breath, take a step or two up, and send you back on your way to the steps.

Today, I was mentally moving my own bar.  Not intimidated by 62 miles, or 100 miles, but figuring out a plan of how to get there.  My plan.  My terms.

Moving that bar.

I actually think of Daddy pretty much every day, but rarely do I see him they way I did this morning.  I could see the water in my line of sight and Daddy's big chest as the target.  I like to think that was his way of getting on my bandwagon and showing me that I can do. I will do it.  May end up in the Baptist Hospital mobile unit again in September like I did after the 50, but I will reach my targets.

And set more goals.  And move more bars.