Slow Is Fast.

In September, I drove to Uncle John's Cider Mill for my first bike race. It was a beautiful fall morning, and the race began on the cider mill tractor roads, then used the main roads surrounding the farm, and finished back in the orchard. It was a 64-mile race, I believe. 

It was my first race, and I was not very confident in my ability. I lined up at the very back with the slowest pace group. As the race began, I realized I was riding with people who were much slower than me. I began to work my way through the crowd of folks, trying to find people who were riding at my pace. 

As the race moved out of the orchard and onto the roads, I caught up to a gentleman riding painfully slow. He wore a flannel shirt and baggy pants.I knew that he would be riding much slower than I wanted to. 

I passed the man and spent almost the entire race trying to catch up with my group. Along the way I over-exerted myself. I dropped a water bottle and didn’t go back for it, and I injured a tendon in the back of my knee. I spent a few miles being helped by an older woman and helping her, but after a bit, the loss of the water and my knee slowed me down. 

About two miles from the finish line, I was in significant pain when someone passed me; it was the man in the flannel shirt and baggy pants. 

Bless You.
- Pastor.