For a long time, I called 2012 "The Lost Year". All I could think of was loss; I lost both people and things, my body turned traitor on me and all I could feel was sorry for myself. My body hurt and my soul hurt and I withdrew, carefully wrapping myself in a cocoon so that nothing could hurt me anymore. And I stopped riding my bike for a long time because it had stopped bringing me joy.
But it got cramped in the cocoon and lonely and like the caterpillar who can feel the time for transformation nearing, I started to become restless. Plus I was risking a relapse of my health issues if I didn't stay strong.
So I called on the bike coach who had set me up on my bike before I rode to Tucson to see if he could help me start loving my bike again. He took me out on a ride to assess my skill level and discuss a course of training that would help me enjoy riding again. We decided that group rides and competitive activities were not my happy place and only ended up hurting me every time I did them. The whole reason I carry beads for the Carry A Bead program is to send encouragement and hope and I had to figure out a way to rekindle that experience. I remembered the ride Kiersten and I did to Tucson and how amazing it had been - just the two of us in 95 degree weather rolling along the empty highway. We were taking it easy and not pushing hard and took a lot of breaks. It allowed me to really enjoy the day. This is how I wanted to ride every time I carried beads.
My coach had me slow way down. He told me to just go out and ride around and have fun. Pretty much just go outside and play on my bike like I was a kid again. I concentrated on just being in the moment and a part of my surroundings. I rode around the neighborhoods and waved at babies, took pictures and smiled a lot. I even met a man walking his tortoise in the front yard and had an excellent conversation with him because I took the time to stop and chat. I thought that this was very Zen and I've always liked that concept. Being mindful, peaceful and being at one with the universe in the moment. Being Zen means you can't just wrap yourself up in your little pain cocoon and hide from what is hurting you because there is so much you will miss out on.
And thus, the Zen ride was born. Every Zen ride will be a self supporting challenge with each ride increasing in difficulty. Some Zen rides will even go up mountains. But the goal of Zen riding is not to focus on the pain and grinding it out to the finish line. The rides will be all about celebrating what we can do with the bodies, the time and the circumstances we have.
Every month or so, I will Carry A Bead on a Zen ride for Beads of Courage. We will enjoy being in the moment, being one with our surroundings, seeing beauty and finding delight in the smallest of things. I'll put pictures here of our ride and we can enjoy it together!
Stay tuned!
Carol this is wonderful! I didn't know of your struggles this past year, and I'm so glad you've managed to find a solution. And I totally get it, I've struggled with physical activity too, not because of pain(unless you count emotional pain), but because I never felt I was doing it right/well, and I never enjoyed it or felt successful at it. It was all negativity and I never saw any payoff to it. Now I understand that my "success" is defined by me and me alone, not what I "should" be doing. To me, having fun in the moment while being active is most important to any physical challenge. It's true, staying in the moment and being sure to find/create joy in those moments, is very Zen! Thanks for sharing this.... Miss you my dear!!
ReplyDeleteRaychel, I miss you too! You've been through a whole lot these past years both mentally and physically and have come out amazingly well for it all and I'm so happy for you!
DeleteI came home late from the arts center and movement in the dry fishbowl on the counter caught my attention. It had emerged. The larva masquerading as bird excrement that went into crysalis the evening I rescued it from an uncertain fate last December, which decided not to emerge in the typical 2 week fashion but overwinter until conditions were ripe, sensed what meteorologists predicted, warm weather ahead. I took photos of the freshness, then took the Giant Swallowtail in a bowl outside. I tilted the bowl and it instantly fluttered and flew up to the porch light. I turned out the light and let it wait out the night for the warmth of day to stir its wings and seek nectar. And a mate. Then die. O.K, so I may have stretched that metaphor a but much at the end, but I really did have a butterfly in my house that I released tonight. And then read your story, Carol. And I am very curious about the tortoise walker........................
ReplyDeleteLaurie, that sounds truly wonderful! I'd love to see the photos. The tortoise and the man and a very cute bulldog puppy were all just wandering around on his front lawn while the tortoise was sampling some of the plant life. I just thought is was too cool not to stop and meet them!
DeleteI love this and love you. Being cooped up inside all winter with only snow and mud outside makes me long for being able to get on my bike any time of the year and go for a ride. I dream of long smooth stretches of pavement with the wind in my face and dogs chasing my tires. Well, maybe not the dogs..
ReplyDeleteI will hold the memories of our bike rides close to my heart and look forward to many more soon!
Love and miss you butterfly.
I love and miss you too...more than you know. I lost you in one sense and it made me very sad, but I know that I will always have you in my life in some way and that makes me glad. Looking back over the photos of the ride we did, I was just so proud of you and knew I wouldn't have wanted to do that with anyone else. Wishing you sunny days with the breeze in your hair and new bike adventures until we get to see each other again! Cheer & Tumble Forever!
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