I rode my bike to work again today.
Now, let me be clear: The brief two mile jaunt is nothing I would consider a feat of great physical strength (I didn’t even break a sweat), so sharing the experience isn’t an attempt to garner praise. I’d much rather report that I made a grueling twenty-mile-long journey in just under 30 minutes (wait, is that even possible?), with a few track stands en route, and that I was able to rescue a drowning child from the clutches of certain death in the fast-moving river nearby.
But I digress.
Here’s why I’m sharing–and also why I pedaled my spoiled, plush-Subaru-loving arse to work in the first place: self-reflection.
When the going gets rough, or when I just need more time than usual to think, one of my bicycles comes out to play, whether it means a little mashing in the hills or a leisurely Greenbelt cruise. (I’m fortunate to live nearly the same distance away from both options. For those not familiar with the Boise area, the Greenbelt is the city’s paved walking and biking trail that runs east to west and adjacent to the Boise River. And our network of foothill trails isn’t too shabby, either.)
Similarly, and more importantly, those who know me the best know that there is a blog post at the ready anytime things might not be so great in my little corner of the universe–and to brace for the Gs.
These beautiful people know: I write when I’m in pain, when I’m confused, or when I need clarity. Truth be told, this blog is my therapy. So I’m genuinely sorry if you have been deceived, because I write here for me–allllllll for me.
But that’s my right, now, isn’t it? Something about freedom comes to mind… what is it again? Ah, yes. Freedom of speech–a freedom as undisputed as that of hopping on a bicycle to just ride.
This morning, as I pedaled my way to work, I locked eyes with a sweet-looking older man sitting in the grass. He smiled and waved, and I did the same. By his clothing and demeanor, he looked to be homeless. (But what do I know? Appearances can be deceiving. Maybe he was just an old man in a park enjoying the fresh air and grass beneath his feet, much like I needed that same fresh air in my lungs and the pedals under my own feet.) Nonetheless, I saw him again in the same place as I rode by late this afternoon. He smiled the same toothy grin and we both waved. And in that moment, I felt such a connection to this stranger.
And dang was it a good feeling, to connect–much like when I hear from others who read posts like this (and who might just be riding over a few bumps of their own, just looking for clarity), “thank you,” I’m reminded why I don’t just put these silly words in yet another journal.
So, while I may write primarily for self, I genuinely hope my experiences resonate with others. I hope that my joy, my pain, and my discoveries might possibly help someone else just trying to figure it all out. Because aren’t we all sometimes a little confused by the path before us?
Sometimes a little smile and a wave is really all we need to feel connected again.
In conclusion, I’m going to ask a favor. If you are reading this as an aim to justify a hostile, hateful world view or to criticize honesty and authenticity, then please move along. There’s enough hate in the world already, don’tcha think? (But if not, it’s cool. You’re welcome to exercise your freedom to take in information. Keep clicking away; Believe me, it doesn’t hurt my site stats.)
And to those that read with pure motives, are moved by the words herein, and really do care about their source, please say so. When this girl’s honesty resonates, well, that certainly makes the ride so much sweeter.