In the world of cross-country cycling, there are two types of people: those who “roll out,” and those who “scramble for their lives.”

For weeks, Jeff and I have been leaving with the fast group. My logic was sound: I finish strong, therefore I belong with the speedsters. In reality? We’ve been rolling into camp near last every day. Sure, being two Seattle kids, we might occasionally detour for a cold brew (or three), but I preferred to call it “strategic pacing.”

That was until Dennis, our fearless leader, gave me a reality check. He didn’t care about my “strong finish.” He cared about the fact that I am, apparently, a morning-challenged individual. He challenged me: “What will it take to get you out with the early group?”

The Plan: Set the alarm for “ungodly early.” Be the model of punctuality. Buy us some extra “playtime” for photos and caffeine.

The Execution: At 7:44 AM, the entire team of 12 is assembled by the gear trucks, looking professional, sleek, and ready. Meanwhile, I am engaged in a mortal struggle with a hotel elevator that clearly doesn’t understand the gravity of my situation.

Jeff texts: “Do you need help?” Me: “Coming down now!” (Translation: I am currently vibrating with panic.)

I ditched the elevator. I grabbed my bike. I grabbed my bag. I grabbed the three fully inflated inner tubes I was testing for leaks—because why pack them when you can wear them?

I burst into the courtyard at exactly 7:45 AM like a caffeinated hurricane. My helmet was crooked, my hands were full, and I had inner tubes draped over my shoulders like rubbery Hawaiian leis. Dennis’s professional assessment? I looked like a “crazed homeless man.”

I technically arrived on time, but spent the next five minutes frantically stuffing oversized rubber tubes into my trunk bag while the team rolled away. We finally hit the road at 7:50. For me? That’s a gold medal in punctuality. For everyone else? It’s a work in progress.

Despite the chaotic start, we crushed 91 miles and 4,500 feet of climbing into Austin. Jeff even took one for the team, doing all the “drive-by photography” so I could keep my wheels spinning.

Tomorrow, we all roll out together for safety. If you’re the praying type, please send one up for me tonight. Or, if you have a spare miracle lying around, feel free to use it on my alarm clock.