Another beautiful day in Vancouver, but the weather is about to change. This ride was one I had to squeeze into an already packed weekend, so I made it an ambitious one.

Sometimes when I plan my ride, I focus entirely on the destination—never the journey there, and definitely not the journey back. But the journey back is often the hardest part. That’s where endurance happens. That’s where the training begins.

Going too far. To the limit. Must keep going.

There’s a moment in every long ride when you realize you’ve gone too far. You’re exhausted, miles from home, with no easy way out. No teleportation machine. No one to pick you up. You still have to pedal back.

I seek out that edge sometimes—not just in training, but in work and life. It’s in those moments, past comfort and deep in fatigue, that real decisions happen. Do you push through? Find a shortcut? Call home and admit you’re running late?

It’s a fitting metaphor. Whether in sport, creative work, or just navigating life’s responsibilities, we all hit that point where we wonder if we’ve taken on too much—gone too far. The question isn’t whether we’ll get tired—it’s what we do when we are.

Today, I’m riding from Trout Lake in East Van to the southern end of the Arbutus Greenway. I love this route—it cruises through undulating scenic city streets before easing onto a slightly calmer shared path.

But, as I mentioned, I had to squeeze this ride in. I got out later in the afternoon, right at peak traffic. Pedestrians, cyclists, cars—busy, busy. Another challenge to navigate.

Like all things, it comes back to the same question: Have I reached my limit? Or can I push through?

Enjoy the ride.

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