Insanity is in the eye of the beholder. What may seem to be perfectly normal behavior to one person, usually the person performing the behavior, is often construed as completely insane by the average onlooker. Things get real confusing when the person performing the potentially insane behavior, behavior he previously believed to be normal, begins to realize that the average onlooker may be correct in suggesting that he’s an idiot.

A few weeks ago I made a personal journey through this confusing paradox between the perception of sane and insane. On August 18-20 I took part in an endurance cycling race that started at the Wyoming/South Dakota border and followed Highway 212 for 412 miles to the South Dakota/Minnesota border. Riders had 48 hours to complete the distance. Seemed sane to me in the blissfully, agony free months and days leading up to the event.

The race was an event that I had organized to raise funds and awareness for the Crohn’s and Collitis Foundation of America. We raised about $1,000.00 and received a whole lot of publicity. It’s a sane cause.

We left mile marker 0 at 4:00 pm (MT) with a nice tail wind, the exact tail wind I had been praying for since I devised this race. We were flying along at about 25mph, and someone, some moron, somebody that must walk around looking gift horses in the mouth said, “We’re going to be in Faith by 9:00 at this pace!” Faith is at mile marker 114, and the tailwind gods, apparently angered by Mister Gift Horse Mouth Looker, decided to keep us on the road a little longer.

The wind shifted and our pace was slowed to about 13mph, not a comfortable toodle around town 13mph, but a peddle up hill for the rest of your life 13mph. At 11:00 p.m. with my wife and kids driving behind me to light the way I was disgruntled, tired, sore, and realizing I was not only insane, but an idiot. A grown man riding through the dark dodging road kill, potential road kill, and wondering if my butt could hurt any worse (it could).

When I went to sleep that night I was pretty sure that I would never walk normal again and prayed that a jackalope would drag my bike off into the prairie. The next morning however I felt great and my bike was still present and accounted for, jackalope are an unreliable bunch. This feeling of greatness was fleeting. I was never really comfortable on the bike all day; I just experienced various levels of discomfort.

One minute feeling as though I could ride all day and the next finding myself screaming at cows for taking for granted how easy they have it. I apologize to the cows I berated along Highway 212; I’m sure you do more than just stand around and eat all day. I also apologize to the wind; I didn’t mean all those nasty things I yelled at you after the cows ran away crying. Oh yeah, and I apologize to the road sign that said “Gettysburg 10 miles.” I know you’re just a helpful messenger but you caught me at a bad time.

I was defeated in Gettysburg at mile marker 227. I never would have made it as far as I did without all the support and encouragement my wife and kids gave me along the way. If you encourage an idiot they keep doing idiotic stuff.

Next year I’ll make it….it can’t be that hard.