On Saturday I rode in Purple Ride, a bike ride to benefit pancreatic cancer research and outreach. (Related: why I am riding in PurpleRide).

There were 8, 24 or 50 mile routes to choose from. Last year, the highest mileage was 24 and that's what we did. We barely made it, but we did it. This year, we decided to go for it and do the entire 50 miles. Of course, Brad couldn't go because of his injury, but I didn't want all that work to be for nothing, so I went alone.

The first ten miles and the last ten miles were the worst. Warming up was extra hard to do because it was cold - it had frozen overnight and was still glove-and-jacket weather by 9:15 when I started the ride. The last ten miles were simply a test of willpower and endurance, as I'd come pretty close to my limit at that point. Let's just say that when I saw the sign for the finish line, tears actually came to my eyes because I was so thankful I was done. But those middle 30 miles were worth everything I went through. Those middle 30 miles are the reason why people bother to get in shape. Being out there in the beautiful fallish weather, zooming along the endorphin rush, feeling the wind on my face and the pleasant feeling of healthy muscles working hard. I'm telling you, as a completely unathletic person all my life, I've been converted.

When I was done, I thought I was pretty nuts for having attempted such a thing, but feeling good about myself for having done it. All day long, I was tired and stiff. I went to bed at 8:30, unable to stay up any longer. The next day, though, my muscles felt better, I was more awake and I realized I totally want to be crazy enough to do this again. Next year, I'm going to bike a full century.