Reflection Paper On A Bike

My lungs are on fire, I feel like I have been running for hours. My legs feel like jello. Why did I not do this a long time ago? The adrenaline boost is so fulfilling. I will never go back. Just a few more steps and I have to make it to the treeline,

I. I often think about how lucky I am to have the opportunity to further my education and ultimately further my life success.

I give thanks to my God, always remembering him through the times of hardships, he helps me get up in the

The first hill approaches and you’re brought all the way up very slowly until it fakes you out and continues slow and straight ahead at the top. A few small twists and turns and a second hill approaches, this time not fake. You’re brought to the top and quickly dropped down and incline. You and all the people behind you start whooping as the ride stays fast through all its sharp turns and fast speeds.

“You can’t do this; your body’s weak and you aren’t in shape. You need to give up now,” my mind promised me. “The temperature’s way too high, your legs are all too weak, and your breathing is more like heaving. This is just pathetic. You need to give up before this kills you.”

The flames grow hot and filling the fireplace with their wrath and fury. They refuse to be contained, condemned to die into ashes.

Right on pace. I took a glance behind me just to see 3 or 4 runners right on my tail. I imagined them as a hungry pack of wolves chasing a rabbit. Except I was the rabbit. I started to pick up the pace until I saw the home stretch. The freezing cold wind was starting to get to me. I couldn't feel my hands, even though I had gloves on. The only obstacle standing between me and about 6 runners ahead of me was a gigantic hill. I charged up it,

"It's up this way," she called, forcing her worn body further up a hill and into the daylight. The temperature rose immediately.

I lean against the wind, pretend that I am weightless and in this moment I am happy.

Breathe in, breathe out. My lungs rattle as I gasp for air in the humid afternoon. The sun beats down on my forehead as sweat drips onto the blistering tar. My jersey sticks to my skin as I clench my fists. Breathe in, breathe out. My legs flood with lactic acid, but I march ahead. Coach’s voice interrupts the pounding of my feet, urging me to fight on. I feel a sudden burst of adrenaline rush through my body and I drive my legs up the hill. Breathe in, breathe out. Midway, my vision begins to blur. Numbness diffuses across my arms until I’m left paralyzed. I realize my blood glucose is dangerously low but I still push forward. My body stiffens and I collapse onto the dehydrated grass beneath me. I stare up at the sky and see the sun begin

Desperately, fighting to stay occupied; so thoughts of is it really ok for me to go back, stay buried inside. Although, briefly successful, it’s not long till every emotion that’s been blocked rushes over your body. Until you feel chilly and its ninety eight degrees at the moment. Simultaneously, rubbing your palms on the front of your freshly dry cleaned pants; since they won’t stop sweating. Wondering, who will be there when I finally walk through those doors? Does anyone care enough to even show up? Every moment of excitement feeling like a kid on Christmas morning, is followed by the sensation of someone just kicked my dog. The closer it becomes to arriving at that final stop, the stronger the pressure builds up around the heart. Producing the horrific sensation of something squeezing it just enough to

Every step strained my burning muscles. I gasped for air as I sprinted down to the finish line. Sweat dripped down my face in the ninety degree heat. My eyes fixated on the runner in front of me. I leaped in front of her just as we passed the finish line, but all I could think of at that moment was, “Why am I doing this?”

My legs at the moment feel like they have been trampled by a rushing stampede of excited six graders at Disney World. Yesterday, around eight thirty, at the Halifax boathouse the sun had risen gently into the air, the blue waters of the Halifax River flowed with only the birds of the morning disturbing its peace. Imagine Edvard Grieg’s Peer Gynt, Op. 23 “Morning” that is what the atmosphere felt like. I could almost feel the oars in my hands and hear my boat glide through the water. The day signified going out on the water so much, I pretty much ran to the back of the boathouse to hold my precious sculling oars.

My hoofs are sore, I’ve been climbing all day as I do most days and I’m exhausted. I’m not sure if I should stop here though, it’s not very far up the mountain, a predator could be around waiting for the moment I let my guard down but can I keep going? No ill find a corner to take a quick nap to regain a little energy, as I lay down everything slowly becomes dark, will I

After moving for a while, I hit my first hill and fire seems to take ever my legs as I push myself to my limits. As the trail continues to move underneath me, I begin to hear the bike. As I hit a water bar or a drop-off I hat the clinking of my tools in their case on the side of the bike. Then I notice how the chain smacks against the frame on a particularly rough terrain. When I feel confident enough, I will hear the rear wheel skidding across the dirt, as I pull a nice speed slide through a turn. After my body is somewhat numb to what I am sensing, I begin to notice new awareness of other sensations. Now that I have been on the bike for a while, I am rather saturated with perspiration. I can now taste the sweat as it rolls down my face, picking up dirt as it goes, and then mixing with my saliva on my lips, and then into my parched mouth. I reach for my bottle of water to quench my thirst. The water is warm, because of the sun beating down on it. I pour it into my mouth and across my face as I slow down my pace to keep from crashing. The water’s taste is not spectacular, because of its temperature and the mud caked on the spout of the bottle. To the hot and tired rider like me, its flavor is wonderful. Lastly, I start to notice the smells of riding on the trail. As my blood is stripped of its oxygen while pumping through my legs, my lungs gasp for more to air to