Riding Bikes and Slowing Down

Growing up you couldn’t get me off my bike. Despite being incredibly uncoordinated I loved having my own form of transportation. A little bit of independence. I took corners too sharply, went way too far from home, and generally got into all sorts of trouble. If you ask nicely I can still show you the scars.

When I got a little older thinks conspired against me biking wise and my love affair waned. My last clear memory of biking was on a frontage road in Paradise Valley Montana. It was just as beautiful as it sounds. The grasses had dried to a golden brown and the air had just a hint of the coming winter. I got left behind by my mom and her friend and I was slowly paddling along, enjoying the beauty and using my imagination to fill the empty places in that remote place. Then these two ladies came roaring out from behind me. “Speed up slowpoke!” my mom’s friend called. “I’ve carting a baby and I’m going faster then you!” It was the last I biked for fun. Since then it was just a grinding way to get from point A to point B.

Anyone who know me can tell you that I do everything at top speed. I’m a firm believer that if it’s worth doing it must be even better to do it ten times fast. So it’s bemusing to look back and realize how many times I’ve burnt myself out on something I love. It wasn’t enough that I was exercising, I had to do it for two hours a day in every conceivable way. It wasn’t enough that I was writing, I had to write 8-12K every day. My expectations were impossible to keep up with.

At the risk of sounding like a fortune cookie one thing that I keep coming back to is how I can be so focused on the end result that I forget to enjoy the journey. I thought if I just pushed myself harder I could outrun everything else. Well, the worst always catches up with me. Now I’m trying to enjoy the moments in between.