Living is a precarious predicament. We didn’t ask for it. We have no control, or at least minimal control, over when it will end. And yet, here we are, responsible for all the in-between of it.
I’ve given more thought to how I live my life than what I assume the average person does. This isn’t intended to be an arrogant statement. If anything, it’s quite the contrary, and yet I’m not ashamed to say it.
Lately I’ve been riding my bike quite a bit.
I’m trying to prove to myself that I am capable of most definitely not dying from riding my bike up hills, and more than that, honestly, wanting to avoid any potential future embarrassment over riding my bike with others.
There was a time, in my early twenties, when I was riding with my ex-husband (then husband – did you hear me say early twenties? Do these terms correlate: ex-husband/early twenties? – I think they do – but this is for another day), and some friends.
I rode for about a mile, and I could not ride anymore. I had to get off my bike and wait for them to bring their truck around to pick me up.
I had to.
be.
picked.
up.
Since that day, I have only ridden my bike on flat trails with other humans. SO, here I am – riding the hilliest neighborhood in my city, which happens to be in my neighborhood. And I’ve noticed, as any of you who have ever ridden a bike, that hills suck. They really truly madly, deeply, suck. And yet, if we do not ride them, we will most surely be the married-too-soon, wimp, who had to be picked up.
The easy – flat trail riding – it’s what most people do. It’s welcome. It’s relaxing. No fear over impending death. No leg muscles burning fire. No hearts about to jump out of chests.
When we don’t have to face riding the hills, it’s easy not to see them as necessary. So although I wasn’t trying to be arrogant, I am writing today, after a long long break in doing so, to tell you how grateful I am for the hills I have encountered along the way – and they most certainly have forced me into thought over how I live my life. More so than most, I would think.
And of course I’m not just talking about my recent bike training – I’m talking about the chronic illness. I’m talking about the divorce. I’m talking about the incredible amounts of loneliness I have felt on and off for the past few years and the overwhelming amount of stress endured trying to work in a public school system as a psychologist after a pandemic. The fallout – it’s just so huge. The fallout of everything.
When my ex and I were close to splitting, he said, “you use chronic illness as the thing you write about- fixate on – and now – you’re focusing on problems with me. This is now what you’re going to write about” – He may have said it using different words and phrasing, but being that it was three years ago, I did the best I could to remember. The gist was that I hyper focus on my problems – or find them – to write about them – talk about them – get attention – what have you. (Again -to keep myself from getting in trouble – this was my interpretation. He may have said it differently, and I may have seen it through my own point of view).
He was partially wrong – partially right. This has never been about getting attention for me. I’m not even going to dignify that with a defense. I write, because I love to – it’s something inherent. I share, because if something I learned can help you, without you having to ride the hill, then maybe it’s worth it. And at the very least, if you are riding the hill, about to get off the bike, I want you to know you aren’t alone.
I also want you to know that these challenges which threaten to break us – and they do – don’t get me wrong – they do… I’ve been broken to my core over the loss of my health – the loss of my idea over what my family would be – BUT these hills have been everything I needed to truly consider how to live. They have forced me to, “live deep and suck out all the marrow of life” as Thoreau so beautifully wrote it.
I don’t think you have to encounter the hills I did. You simply have to admit that the flat road isn’t always the most beautiful. That there is more to this life than waking, working, eating, repeat. That the hard stuff – it’s the stuff that can either hide you away in darkness for the rest of your life, or it can illuminate all you would have lost in the dark you could not see within your mundane living.
There is no time for allowing misery you can escape, and there still is time for finding joy you can capture.
Charge at those hills! Come at them with a momentum which will not let you stop, because life is much too fleeting to meander away on zero grade roads.