I’d been planning the trip for weeks, physically preparing for months. This ride was one step closer to my ultimate goal: a century ride. A hundred miles meandering through two states.

When I first started riding, I was a hundred pounds overweight and peddling a bike for even a couple of miles felt overwhelming. If I’d thought about riding a hundred miles then, I would’ve laughed, and quit. But the more I rode and the stronger I became, the more I began to see the possibility could become reality. My perspective changed.

 
 

Today is an important day for my family. As I write these words, it’s the tenth anniversary of a house fire that not only destroyed our home, but snatched away the breath of my youngest daughter and set me on an unexpected journey of loss and sorrow . . . as well as hope and faith and trust.

I never imagined death would interrupt our lives quite like this. I certainly didn’t expect the devastation that would spiral through my family. I never saw it coming.  I suppose no one really does. No one expects those moments when the rug gets pulled out from under our feet and there we lie, flat on our backs, staring up at the ceiling, wondering how in the world we got there.