I have a bicycle. His name is William. He’s a cheap yellow
and black road bike. I picked him up on a whim when my mountain bike was
stolen. He was my only means of transportation besides my own two feet for a
long time. I remember my first 30 mile ride with William. I felt the whole
world had opened up to me; compared to my old way of getting around and living
in this world, my bicycle was heaven. Though I never intended to, I quickly
fell deeply in love with cycling.
I started training for my first 100 mile ride. I rode every
weekend and every weekday possible and I felt free. Whenever I had a problem, I
rode my bicycle and found clarity. I found hope to live another day in Utah County
I rode all winter and planned out what rides I would do the
next summer. I’ll do century rides. Someday I’ll bike across America .
Someday I’ll bike down the east coast. Someday I’ll bike in the Adirondacks . I can do anything.
But this spring something has changed. I’ve been riding more
than ever, I feel stronger than I ever have, I’ve improved my cadence, and
devoured cycling magazines, and rode another century. But I no longer feel
invincible. I no longer feel at peace with William. And it’s funny because I
think I’ve cried more tears while on my bicycle than is humanly acceptable but
they’ve always been tears of healing and now they’re tears of frustration. I’ve
grown, I’m faster, I’m stronger, and I finally know with a surety it’s possible
for me to perform better and go farther and do all of the things I want to do. But
my bicycle is holding me back. In order to do what I need and want to do, I
need a bicycle that can withstand higher pressure, one made for long distances
and speed, one that was made for who I am becoming. My wonderful, old bicycle
is holding me back. The bicycle that I’ve loved for so long. The bicycle that has
taken me thousands of miles. The bicycle that allowed me to discover a world I
wouldn’t have known otherwise…
So I’m stuck with a decision. Do I fully accept that I have
changed and need something better or do I stick around with William, the
bicycle I love?
In case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t about my bicycle at
all.
The thing is, I’ve lived in a place without a figurative
bicycle for a long time. I never really knew a life with one. Then I was inadvertently
introduced to a lifestyle with one - with hope. A way of living and building
relationships that I never knew existed. One that I never knew I wanted or
needed. I’ve worked so hard to get where I am now with that small piece of hope
I was offered and many times it has whisked me away on a journey to bigger,
better things that I’ve always wanted but never had the courage or option to
believe in. And now I’m here, with all my hard work behind me and the
ever-pressing reality that I’m better, though nowhere near perfect, in front of
me.
Even though it is good, it’s so hard to take this new reality
and make it all that I am. It’s so hard to step forward and leave behind a way
of living that has nothing to offer me now except a nostalgic set of shackles. It’s
so hard to believe that somewhere down the line I can have the whole world and
more if I would just keep going and accept the person I have the potential to
become. Change the relationships that hold me back or simply move on. Just keep
pedaling. Just keep growing. Stop looking toward the future of bigger and
better things, and just live them now. None of this has been or will be easy or
quick and it certainly won’t be comfortable but the only way I’m going to get
there is through living in a way that doesn’t betray the things that I’ve
learned to be true. Down the line maybe I’ll find someone who wants to live
this way too.
I still love William. I still love everything I’ve been
through and the means I’ve gotten to where I am. And, because of all that, I
need a new bicycle and I need to let those things go. Down the line, maybe I’ll
bike across America
with someone who wants to take this journey with me.
