I wouldn’t have done it without my wife.
Sure, she wasn’t with me as I rode off yesterday morning.
But without her? I’d likely had spent the day working on growing my piles.
Let’s rewind dear reader as that part looks a bit like the end.
It’s odd to put the end at the beginning of things.
Yesterday though, I had a really difficult time beginning.
I was cozy in my cabin with a day off and the forests open for the first time in a long time.
I really really needed to go riding.
After almost a month out of the woods and almost a month of not really riding - other than over the bridge to work most days, the notion of putting on my bib shorts and pedaling off into who knows where seemed daunting.
In reality?
I set myself up for failure.
I failed to bring my emergency tools and snacks in my frame bags.
I failed to have a friend to keep me accountable and drag me along.
It was almost as though I was conspiring unawares with myself in order to stay home and stay small.
I knew I wanted to ride.
And yet, even more?
I wanted to simply rest, drink coffee, eat and watch terrible Boobtube videos, algo-rhythmically selected to perfection.
It’s an odd tension when you’re stuck on your arse watching tee vee. Though I was comfortable, as my piles grew, my unease grew with them. I was itching to go riding, which, considering what saddle time does to my arse, would only make my arse itichier.
But Laura?
She’s run a marathon.
She knows what this moment is all about.
Put on your shorts. Put on your gear. Give yourself permission to do the smallest thing. Get dressed. Sit on your bike, then see what happens.
She’s smart eh? That wife of mine? I’m not sure who’s more smart - her for just being her or me for recognizing her brilliance.
Either way, I listened. Though it took nearly three hours to get dressed and leave the cozy cabin, I listened and went for a ride.
I feel so much better because of it.
So if you’re away from something you love, or feel stuck and can’t move forward, what’s the smallest thing you can do?
Put on your bib shorts.
Put on your shoes.
Go sit on your bike.
Give yourself permission to turn back.
But support yourself enough to know that turing back would be idiotic.
Don’t take my word for it.
I’m just a fool.
But my wife?
She’s one smart cookie.
