There was such a completeness of the rainfall, it felt almost suffocating. Sheets of it came down heavy and gray. With temperatures hovering around 50 degrees, despite the mid-June date, there wasn’t much inviting one to come outside and play. More specifically, the thought of riding a bike through the Green Mountain woods for 7 or so hours just didn’t have the appeal it did when I’d scheduled the VT Monster back in January.

Heading into the lobby for my third cup of morning coffee, I’d already texted my wife: Thinking about bailing, nothing about this looks fun. She wrote back that she supported whatever decision I made and that the real deal was all the work I’d put in training for this day. She was right, the training was the real benefit. At this point in my 57 years, racing was just the cherry on top of my fitness sundae. But, then I thought about my nephew Rowan.

Down in Fort Bragg, NC, Rowan was at Selection School for the Green Berets. He’d been there almost three weeks and I’m sure he was deep in the pain cave. Before he closed the door on the outside world, I’d written him that hard things sharpen our edges. They make us better. Here, I was thinking about turning tail and heading home. That didn’t really square with what I was preaching.

Out in the lobby, on my coffee run I saw a burly Thirtysomething with two bike bottles. “You going out there?” I asked with a flip of my shoulder at the soaking misery. With hope and excitement and concern all on his cherubic face, he answered in the affirmative. “I don’t think it’ll be that bad and I can take it slow.” Positivity bubbled out of him as he added, “There’s supposed to be a let up between 9 and 11!”

Going home suddenly felt like lying to my mother or cheating on a test. Easy to do but hard to live with.

Back in my hotel room, I decided to just do the 48 mile ride instead of taking on my 78 mile goal. Even if it was hellacious, in the abbreviated effort I’d get some exercise in and be done in 4 hours or so. My Thirtysomething friend made me feel soft in the power of his enthusiasm. He was up for the challenge, I took more than a little inspiration from that.

In the parking lot by the startline, I was further motivated by the group assembling for the 78 mile ride that I was not going to do. They looked cool on their gravel bikes. Their kit was a good assemblage of many items I coveted and a few that I had. Despite being drenched, they looked like a group I wanted to be a part of and for the last time that morning, I texted my wife: Fuck it, I’m doing the 78.

On a normal week, I spend about 12 hours on my bike. Throw in a couple of runs and gym sessions and all told, I’m putting in about 16 hours on physical fitness. To be honest, The Reason Why is hard to pin down. It definitely makes me feel good, I like being healthy and I’m haunted by father’s early demise and the incessant teasing I experienced about my “love handles” growing up. Are those reasons good enough? A definitive answer eludes me, I just know that I love the feeling of getting it done, it’s what I’m hard wired to do.

The 78 miles ended up being one the best experiences I’ve had at an event. The course was amazing: hard, super steep with multiple bike handling tests. Despite the first couple of hours in the rain, I loved being shoulder to shoulder with fellow riders. There was some chit chat and an opportunity to get to know one young woman that had traveled up from DC for the day. She hadn’t thought twice about bailing. From the beginning to the end, she had a big beautiful smile on her face. Even when it was all mud freckled.

A couple of months ago, Rowan was thinking about resigning his captaincy in the 82^nd Airborne and going to Business school. Whatever he does, the guy will continue succeeding. However, after being accepted to school, he just couldn’t let go of his desire to get into Special Ops. It’s his professional brass ring and by the time I post this, he’ll know if he’s on his way. He’s told me before, he just wants to see what he can get out of himself no matter how gnarly things get. I’m not at his level by a long shot but I think I understand him a little bit.

From what I’ve been told, in the Selection School, Green Berets are judged first and foremost by how they help the team. My Thirtysomething friend in the hotel lobby helped me get out in the rain. So did Rowan. So did my wife and my fellow riders. In my life, that’s the way it always is. Big things never get done by just me, they come when I accept the help of others.