149.38 km of pure madness

Any one can say that we should go beyond our limits. In fact we are told that good life is at the teetering edge of our comfort zone. Truth be told, not many people are willing, able and ready to rock the boat of comfort.

Well, in my cycling world, I had thus far cycled a distance of 102.01 km. in my mind, that was the limit. In my thinking, I had hit the wall. I did not know that I had it in me to shoot through the glass ceiling that I had erected above me.

So I consciously elected to challenge my limits on the second day of July, the year of 2013.With a sobriety that would shock a judge, I choose to cycle to Kayunga.

The round trip from where I stay to Kayunga is 149.38km. It was to be a cycling journey of pure madness .

The pleasantly clean, pure and fresh air was a given. It blew into my face sucking out all the accumulated stuffy air of Kampala that had crept into my lungs.

The road, though not as wide as that of Zirobwe, has friendly humps and because it is more populated I came across amazing people whose simplicity almost blew me off my seat.

There was this man who is one legged. He moved with the aid of wooden legs. When I got close to him, I placed my right arm on my heart and greeted him, ever so humbly. You should have seen the smile on his face. It was enough to light the darkest night. I appreciated both my legs and I am sure that he appreciated the greeting of a man who would have chosen to ignore him.

There was this old lady, laden with the weight of firewood. I told her that I would have given her a lift if I had not left my car at home. She laughed. The kind of genuine rural laughter that rocks one from side to side.

There was this man attired in a Muslim garb. "A salaam alaikum" I thundered. He flashed a smile. Responding in kind with the warmth that one reserves for a long lost brother.

That warmth made the four hour journey to Kayunga seem like a breeze. Once there, I had to make the return journey. It was 2:30 pm and I knew that I would get back at night. I did not consider the hazards of cycling without lights.

At 6:30 pm I was still 40km away from home. Darkness was fast approaching. The ride was beginning to assume a dangerous trend.

Suddenly pot holes appeared from no where. Thank God my bicycle has shock absorbers. I was forced to go slow and use all my reserves of vitamin A as I strained my eyes to picture the road ahead of me.

There were two girls who suddenly darted in front of me at the Gayaza trading centre. One would think there were being chased by enraged cockroaches. I had to act cool and collected in order to save an otherwise embarrassing situation.

The hills in the dark presented a formidable challenge. More than once, I contemplated flagging down two motorcyclists to transport my faithful machine and myself back home. I persistently refused to give life to that appealing thought.

In that state, my mind choose to focus on the warm and disarming smile from my wife and that innocent chuckle that would ensue from my soon to be one year old son.

For the next thirty minutes, my mind was focused on only that. I did not feel the gush of wind caused by a trailer rushing past me. I refused to register the motorcyclist who was loaded with 5 sacks of charcoal that dangerously brushed my arm as he sped by me.

I eventually got home. Soaked in the sweat of 149.38km. Full of ecstasy and ready to dare my next limitation.



Your life is in your hands