Wednesday 20 August 2014

Lessons from my big bike ride: tough it out, and be kind.

Lately I've been noticing that I'm starting to do some things differently. It's not that I'm more patient. But I'm gentler with myself, so at the same time I can be supremely impatient, and a little bit amused with myself about it. I think this is a big part of feeling things as they happen, moving through the tough stuff and not getting caught in it.

Last week my partner and I did one of our regular summer bike trips. Every summer we ride up to visit his parents, a one-day ride that involves distance (about 120 kilometres one way), mountains (360 metres up from sea level at the highest point, and there's lots of up and down), and ferries (a chance to rest and enjoy the scenery, but then the ride starts at sea level and goes straight up for the first few kilometres). It's super hard, but it's always fun. For me it's a always a big physical challenge and an enormous psychological challenge.

This year, we rode up on what turned out to be the hottest day of the year. There were times on the ride--this always happens to me when I'm doing something difficult--when I thought I couldn't keep going. I was too hot, the hill was too steep, or the way just seemed too long. But every time I hit this mental hill, we stopped for a few minutes, sipped some water (or ate a little fruit), and then I was refreshed enough to keep going. By the time we made the second ferry (with just 10 minutes to spare!) I was covered in a sludge of salty sweat and road grime and sunscreen, my face was about as pink as pink gets, and I was panting like a dog on a hot day. There is no glamour in this kind of travel. But I felt pretty darn fantastic!

On the way home we decided to take a different route, one that's a bit flatter, but the ferries take longer and cost a little more, so it's an even longer day of travel. And it rained. Not just for a few hours, as we'd expected, but for 110 of the 120 kilometres. We hadn't brought full raingear with us, because it's usually too hot to wear in the summertime, so we were wet after the first 10 minutes, and we stayed wet for the whole trip. Every now and then, a new channel of water would start pouring in from somewhere. My shoes were filled with water--when I wriggled my toes, they squelched. Water leached up through my jacket from my wet shorts and dripped down my neck, so my whole body was wet. Part of the charm of this alternate route is that it mostly stretches along the ocean, but it was so socked in, and my glasses were so wet, that I had to remind myself that the grey blur on my left was the usually lovely strait. I really didn't think I could do it. After the first hour or so I was near tears, and I had to say out loud that, if it came to it, we might have to rent a car (I don't even know if that's possible there) or hitch-hike. But as soon as I admitted that I may not be able to finish, I felt better.

The thing is, you don't ride 120 kilometres. You ride one at a time. That may sound like cheesy inspiration talk, but it's also true. Over and over, I would get overwhelmed by the enormity of what we were doing, and then I'd break it down into doable chunks. Five more kilometres and we can stop for tea. Another ten and we can stretch for a few minutes. Stop at the top of the hill and take a sip of water. The full distance seemed too much, but riding those smaller chunks, I was able to do it.

On a long ride, there's a lot of time to think, and you really can't spend that much time feeling sorry for yourself or hating the weather or worrying. One thing I noticed was that needing a way out is something I always do when things are hard. I was never even remotely athletic as a kid--I was that chubby kid who always pretended she forgot her gym kit so she could sit reading during gym class--but as an adult, I've come to enjoy the challenge of hard physical tasks. I love being strong and fit enough to do things I never thought I'd even try. But I get scared. And when I'm scared, I frantically try to find a way out. So my panicky plans to rent a car, to flag down a pickup truck and convince the driver to take us plus bikes as far as possible, these connivings are very familiar to me. (I even thought we could stop until the weather cleared and rent a motel and call work to say we'd be a day late coming back, though "It's raining" didn't quite seem like a convincing excuse, and I knew I wouldn't pretend I had an injury, though I had a fleeting moment of considering even that.) But along the way, I noticed I was gentler with myself in my fear and panic. I was able to say, yes, if you need to you can get out of this, but what are the other options? Stop for tea? Drink some water? Stop and look at the ocean, because it's there and the rain has slowed for a few minutes and if you clean your glasses, you might even be able to see it.

Is this a skill or an attitude? Maybe it's both. Whatever it is, I'm getting better at it, and I know it's important to me. In a few weeks, I'm about to start grad school, which has me super intimidated. I worry I can't do an interesting project, or I can't cope with the workload, or  million other things. But I think it will be like the bike trip. Just break it down into smaller bits, and even if those bits are tough, they are doable.

I'm glad we did our trip. When we finished that rainy ride, as we were waiting for the ferry, I realized, all day I had been thinking, "I will never ride in this weather again" and "This is horrible" and a whole lot of other complainey thoughts. But as soon as we arrived, I was exhilarated. I was cold and wet and shaking with hunger, and my legs and back hurt, but all I could think was, "Man that was fun!" I mentioned this to my partner and he laughed and said he was thinking the same thing. The hard parts didn't matter once they were done, and we both felt great.

That was last week. Today I'm making soup stocks and reading, hanging out at home and enjoying a much less challenging kind of day off. I'm glad I took the time to write about this. First I wasn't sure what it had to do with not drinking, if anything. But more and more I see that, having stopped drinking, I don't look for the easy way out of tough stuff. Instead, I'm getting better at facing it, and breaking it into smaller bits that aren't quite so threatening. And I'm being kind to myself as I do it. That's the big one. It's taken me almost five decades to start learning that, but man, is it worth it.

Thanks for reading. Here's wishing you peace and love, and the strength you need to face the tough stuff, and plenty of kindness.

12 comments:

  1. any form of exercise in the rain makes you an automatic badass. i love doing hard things and when I want to quit that little voice makes me keep going and then Whew!

    Sobriety is like: oh, everything. It relates to everything. Doing hard things (like being sober) makes me feel more capable. That's a lot of miles/kilometers which equals a helluva lot of capable. :)

    Way to face "the tough stuff". I'm cheering!!!

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    1. Thanks, Amy! I love when you leave me a comment while I'm leaving you one. It's almost like chatting over the (virtual) backyard fence. And yes, everything relates to everything. And getting past that little voice, not by yelling at myself like I used to do ("just shut up and do it" was what I used to chant at myself when things got hard--who talks like that to anyone???) but by being kind and caring without just giving up. It's a hard balance. I know you've written about this before, and it's something I'm working on, so it felt good to see that I'm getting better in that.

      I'm glad cycling in the rain makes me a badass, too! I'll rely on that when it's November and I'm heading to class in the dreary downpours. But for now the sun is back. Hooray sunshine!

      Thanks for the cheers. I'm cheering for you, too! xo

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  2. Way to go!! That's awesome.. I love Amy's comment… am doing absolutely no exercise myself at the moment.. zip, nadda, zilch.. except up and down steps to the car and in and out of kindy/supermarket/cub scouts/the pool etc… the thought of really pushing my physical body like you just have been is really encouraging and exciting.. so I'm a little bit jealous of you, squelchy shoes and all…xxx

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    1. Thanks, Mrs D! Getting outdoors and pushing myself is awesome for me. I really do go a bit cuckoo-bananas when I don't get enough exercise. Glad to inspire you! I hope you can find time to get out and do something physical in the midst of all that busy-ness you've got going on. Take care. xo

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  3. Hi Thirsty, tuning in from the Halifax airport hotel, heading back to the West coast tomorrow. It was great to read about your cycling adventure -- wow, that was a big trip, and so true how breaking overwhelming events down into small, manageable chunks is a saner way to go about life. Well ridden and well written!

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    1. Hi Sue. Sounds like you're having a great trip. I love Halifax! And San Francisco is pretty great, too. Safe travels for the rest of it.

      Yes, our trip was super fun. And yes, sane, manageable chunks is a better way through big projects. It's like Annie Lamott's "bird by bird" writing advice, but the trick isn't knowing that but learning to actually do it. Thanks as always for your kind words. It's lovely to hear from you! xo

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  4. I am genuinely in awe of this bike ride thing - 120K? That is amazing! I would have said that I like cycling, but when I stop to think about it, it is all just local, and I think my longest ever ride was less than 50K! You're a cycling superstar! That feeling of taking on something that you feel is more than you can manage is very frightening - and so good when you discover that you can do it. Sometimes it is worth pushing yourself, just so you can find out what you are capable of… but pushing your limits whilst being kind to yourself, that is the key, and the difficult / interesting bit. Like you, in the past, I have tried to push myself by bullying myself - "don't be so pathetic, just get on with it, stop being so useless" etc etc. And no, I wouldn't talk like that to anyone else, ever. Cycling 120K. In the rain. Whilst being kind to yourself. Awesome. I look forward to hearing of your progress in the Tour de France next year :) xx

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    1. MTM, sorry I was slow getting back to comments here. Rally nice to hear from you. Thanks for your kind words. I was thinking I'm more of a "tour du cafe" cyclist, though if you seem my most recent post, it was on the restaurant and cafe tour that I got my bike injury. But still, I ate well! And yes, being kind, more and more I'm seeing that's the more important thing, and I'm getting better at it. Thanks for visiting! xo

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  5. That's so impressive. You should be really proud. I'm like Mrs D at the moment. I haven't been to the gym in 2 weeks, and now that it's getting warmer I can't even use the excuse that it's too cold to get undressed in the changing rooms. I like the idea of egging yourself on in sobriety in small chunks too. I think that's why I felt the need to go for a 100 days goal, but each day and each week is a victory. I needed that reminder.

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    1. Hello and thanks for your kind words. Small chunks, yes, that's all we can do, right? It's taken me a long time to see that, too. I'm glad my chatter was a little bit helpful to you. xo

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  6. how is it I have only just seen this? I think sometimes the non-WP blogs take a while to get picked up by my WP reader, but they still appear in chronological order so they are buried before more recent WP blogs... only found this by coming to see what you have been up to in the old fashioned way! oh, and if I could borrow a pint of milk, that would be good, too ;)

    wonderful post. so uplifting and thought provoking. 'being gentle with myself in my fear and panic' is a thought I am going to hold onto. thank you! Prim xx

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    1. Hi Prim. Thanks for dropping by, I was away but I hope you found the key under the rug and helped yourself to the milk. (I only have heavy cream, but that stuff saves lives, I think!) You're right, blogger and wordpress don't play so well together. I lose wordpress readers all the time, and in my own reader they sometimes fall away, so I have to use my bookmarked list of I miss too much. Grr.

      And yes, being gentle. It's so important, isn't it? Because why wouldn't we be? I'm so late to learning how to do that, but I think I'm on the right track here. I'm glad you see some connection between what I'm saying and what's important to you.

      And now that you know where the key is, stop in any time! xo

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