"You looked shell shocked at the start line," says my bike buddy. Yes, waiting with one leg on the pedal, arms on bars, and poised to push off, all I could think: "what am I doing here?" And while the women around me in my 40-something age category tried to reassure me they felt the same way, I was stunned.
We're on a wide dirt road. Waiting. Waiting.
Ten second countdown. Heart is pounding outside my chest. Nine. Wow, that woman's legs look strong. Eight. Apparently, other people think you can do this. Seven. I'm 42. Six. Can I puke now? Five. Four. Three. Two. Off we go. I'm last.