Sunday, June 21, 2015

Enjoy the Ride!



A few years ago, I found myself at a crossroads.  I had everything I thought I had ever wanted, but couldn’t find a glimpse of who I was.  Some might call it a mid-life crisis, although I’m not quite sure I was there yet.  Others could say it was the result of being a stressed, overwhelmed mother.  Again, it just didn’t feel like that was it either.

I went through the motions, convincing myself that it would get better.  It’s funny.  Looking back at pictures, it’s so obvious.  But at the time, it seemed that I was living the life that was meant for me, but it just didn’t fit right.  I did the only thing I knew to do.  I stopped.

I stopped writing.
I stopped feeling.
I stopped dreaming.

“Life is like learning to ride a bicycle.  To keep your balance, you must keep moving.”
~Albert Einstein


That February, I embarked on the annual garage clean-out.  Just like each year before it, I grumbled about having too many Christmas decorations and nagged my husband to put shelving to add storage.  I remember hearing my voice and thinking how miserable I sounded.  I decided to take a break.

Sitting there in my dusty, cluttered garage, I thought, “Lord, it just has to be better than this.”  I mustered up enough energy to continue, committing to work in silence to spare anyone from the casualties of my foul mood.

At some point that afternoon, I found my old Cannondale leaning in the corner covered by crushed cardboard boxes.  For some reason, I pulled it out of the corner and leaned it against the garage door.  The rest is history.

"If you worried about falling off the bike, you’d never get on." 
~Lance Armstrong


I have always loved to ride.  Some of it is my DNA.  I mean, every average Dutch girl likes to ride a bike, right?  I’m sure growing up in the middle of nowhere helped that too. 

One of my favorite stories from childhood was when Grandpa Ike finally taught me how to ride.  He took me to the top of the hill by the house, gave me a pep talk and let me go.  Down the hill I went, bike teetering with each pedal as I would slowly, but surely, steer my way right over the new tree that Grandpa had planted at the bottom of the hill.  It didn't matter where he started me, I always ended up riding right over that same young tree.  

A few year's later, sitting in the front yard at our new house on Routes 5 and 20, I looked up to see three boys, about my same age, leaning on their bikes in the middle of the road.  I hadn't made many friends in my new home, so I was eager to meet them.  The O'Hora boys lived a mile down Goose Street and became instant friends.  I spent many summer days biking back and forth to their house.  Occasionally, our moms would give us permission to ride to Flint or Gorham to buy a pop or ice cream.  It was my first test of freedom on the road and I loved it!


One summer, my dad was convinced he had met my soul mate.  He introduced me to an avid biker.  We spent that summer “riding the lakes”.  It didn’t take me long to recognize that avid would definitely NOT describe me as a biker.  My rides are more like hiking with two wheels. 

Ride.
Stop.
Take in the Scenery.
Ride again.

"Nothing compares to the simple pleasure of a bike ride." 
~ John F. Kennedy





I was nervous at first.  After all, I hadn’t ridden in a long time.  My kids made it easier.  They loved spending the time together and I loved being with them.  My heart felt like it was beating again and I looked forward to hitting the trail every chance I got.

I eventually found my pace again.  My short rides with the kids slowly turned into much longer trips.  I recently reached my personal best with a 20 mile day trip.  With every pedal turn, I smiled knowing it meant something.  My soul had returned.



It seems the old adage is true.  Riding a bike does actually come back very easily.  You just have to start pedaling.  Apparently, the same can be said for moving through the crossroads of life.  Enjoy the ride!

2 comments:

Meghan Cobble said...

Loved this, AO.

I liked how you pulled in great quotes that increased the authenticity of your words from great doers.

It's ironic to me how similar we are in persons. When I read your words, sometimes it's as if I wrote them, too.

Glad you have that trusty pad and pencil back out. Even more glad, you're you.

Meg :)

harada57 said...
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