The Day I Almost Quit — And the Strangers Who Carried Me Through
Some rides don’t test your legs — they test your heart. In 2016, I was cycling across the country from Lubbock to Florida. I had already put in long, hot, humid days through Texas and Louisiana, and I was somewhere in the middle of central Louisiana on a road that felt like it might never end. From the start of that day, something felt off. My legs were dead. And when your legs go, everything else starts to follow. My neck ached. My shoulders were tight. My spirit was worse. I was days into the tour and starting to feel completely isolated. Even on my worst rides, I usually know I have the physical ability to grind through — but this time, doubt started creeping into my head. The kind of doubt that whispers, “Maybe you don’t have it today.” I had about 60 miles left to ride. I pulled into a convenience store to refill my bottles, mentally counting down how far I had to go — and not liking the number. That’s when I met them. Two large young men — I mean big guys, built like NFL linebac...
