Training. Without it, I would surely ride the first 5 miles of this Journey impressed with myself for what I had gotten into. The impressive black and yellow carbon fiber road bike, the ridiculously humbling spandex. Then my lungs would collapse, my heart would putter, I’d swerve into traffic, and get hit by the cars that drive about 2 feet to my left. The End. The end of Matt’s Journey of Hope.

But WAIT! I’ve been training for almost 6 months. With any luck, my lungs are deeper, my heart is stronger, and I keep a decent line in a peloton (the big draft pack of cyclists), if I may say so myself.

I began in December riding indoor at the gym as I had not yet found the perfect bike. Starting with a petty 30 minutes then working my way up to almost an hour and a half (laughable distances now). In my training I have found the biggest difference in indoor and outdoor cycling is this: indoor SUCKS! Its boring. The air is stale of musk and prepubescent Axe body spray. You stare at the drastically out of shape man riding in front of you; and he’s…is it possible? RAINING sweat! There is no wind in here! How does sweat move 6 feet?! To your left and right (no offense Mom) you have middle age soccer moms having a good ol’ time conversing right over your head…the iPod gets turned up.

Ahh but the outdoors. Even with the occasional skunk or septic plant, the air is fresh and alive. The whir of the tires across pavement is hypnotizing. And above all, my favorite thing about cycling: the groove. You know when you hit it. Your legs are pumping synchronous with you heart and your tucked inside the small pocket of slipstream from the pack in front. You could ride forever. It is almost spiritual. The outdoors, though, has its own hazards. Namely, the two tons flying by on your left. A. you have the cool guy that likes to honk. First off, NOT cool. It scares the hell out of cyclists and can make them shift their line into your lane or complete off the road! A. also has a lot to do with B. the people that can’t be bothered to shift to the furthest point in their lane. CHECK YOUR MIRRORS! No I’m not saying look to see behind you, I am saying, “Make sure they don’t hit me!” One of the most shocking things is a car side mirror at 45 mph coming inches from taking your head straight off. Another, I’ll say discomfort rather than hazard, is that gravely black top. It is miserable. Luckily the carbon fiber frame I am riding on helps to absorb a lot of the vibration, but even with that it is still akin to cross-country skiing on lava rocks.

I can feel my core becoming more solid, my heart feels better, and my stamina is through the roof. I also expect to come back after two months and look something like an ostrich. Skinny upper body and huge drumstick legs. I may post a before and after picture later on in the ride.

I leave in 2 days to begin orientation in San Francisco and in 6 days, the Golden Gate bridge will be mine…along with every southern highway in the U.S.