Yet Another One About Climbing

What is it about me and climbing. I mean, it hurts. It almost always hurts. Why, then, do I enjoy it so much?

Here's something I find odd: I ride alone in the mornings so sometimes I don't have the will to get out of bed to ride at all. On the other hand, when I'm climbing a hill, I can't seem to stop. It is easier for me to skip riding than to wimp out on a climb.

If I am alone on a hill, and my legs are burning, will I stop to rest, or turn around? I will not.

There is something in a hill that draws me to the top. I am able to accept defeat in many forms, but I can't live with myself if I didn't make it to the top.

Today's ride started out with me thinking I wanted to just go somewhere flat. Not only did I end up doing a lot of super-steep-but-short hills, I actually remember thinking, "I'm only going to go to the half-way point on this climb. My legs are just too tired." And then, like all the other rides, I just kept going. Almost like I was in a dream--a painful one--until I awoke to find myself cresting the top. (And that wasn't even my final climb for the ride.)

I wish I could be so driven in every aspect of my life.