It's a small thing, but I'll take it

Recently, I've really solidified my relationship with my bike.

I love her. I love riding her. I love hunkering down in aero and really powering through. I love what it feels like to stand in the saddle to get through an intersection, knowing that all ya'll are jealous of my fine bike.

And I've become a much better rider this year, so I'm finally feeling a little more confidence out there.

And last night I did something that -- for me -- was kind of brave. Or at least smart.

I looked ahead.

You see, normally when I'm riding hills, I'm so focused on my gearing and my legs and effort that my vision is just the eight feet in front of my wheel. Lest you forget, I'm terrified of hills. They're my weakness, my fear, my limiter. So when I get on one, I put my head down and just focus on the task at hand.

I've always avoided looking at the top of the hill. It would have some psychological effect on me -- somehow the grade and length would magically multiply and I would instantaneously become convinced I couldn't do it. I would feel my legs shrinking from the proposed effort and I would slow to a meaningless grind.

So I stopped looking up.

Until last night.

I decided when I went out to find something to challenge myself. I was heading out on my standard route out Rt. 322. Really beautiful, generally uninterrupted for upwards of 25-30 miles, and a lovely and safe shoulder. But I ride there a lot. A lot.

So I needed a challenge to keep me engaged. This time it was to focus on the top of the hill, not just ahead of my wheel, to really learn about my own strength.

And, as I suspected, the estimations my brain makes when looking at a grade or distance are far afield from what my legs are actually capable of doing. The hills that look scary from the bottom turn out to be just fine with the right approach. The steep ones leveled out a bit when I connected what I was feeling in my legs and what I was seeing on the road.

There had been a disconnect there. My brain was continuing to interpret hills with the muscle memory of my legs years ago. But I've changed and my brain didn't get the memo.

So, it was really nice to change my perspective and learn a little more about what I can do. I'm still no Lance or Floyd -- and I still get effortlessly passed by guys twice my age on a regular basis -- but I know a little more about myself now.

Because I looked up.