It’s a beautiful morning in early September here in New Mexico. I’m on my road bike with members of my cycling group. Well, not with them, more like following them as they speed ahead of me. I try to keep their bright jerseys in sight. Our route is mostly flat, giving me a chance to work on increasing my speed, yet I’m still falling behind.
Balloonists practicing for annual Balloon Fiesta
Just last year I’d charge up hills with this group, cranking out miles. I rode a few times a week, training for 100-mile rides, or multi-day cycling adventures. Four years ago I’d also overcome the challenge of moving from California’s sea level to New Mexico’s mile plus high altitudes.
But this year, two rounds of COVID, a surgery needing months of recovery, a damaged elbow tendon, and caregiving for an elderly relative have kept me off the bike. I’d already cut back on cycling to build more bone strength, but this year “less” turned into “none.” Now back on the bike occasionally, my stronger legs help. Lungs, not so much.
The first five miles of our 30-mile ride today, I am consumed with what I can’t do. I can’t climb like I used to –– the occasional little uphills make me pant. I can’t fly down the road as I used to, wind on my face, legs pumping in rhythm. I never used to be the caboose but the two times I’ve managed to ride with the group this summer, I’m behind everyone, the gap growing as the miles pass. Unused to cycling, my back and neck ache much sooner than they used to. Can’t blame all of this on headwinds.
My ego pouts, taking a major hit.
Then I look up. The brilliant sunlight reveals the blend of white, black and red earth on nearby mesas. The morning air is cool. The mountains east of me are half-shaded, reaching into clear blue skies. The high desert is green from all our rain. A cow munches wheatgrass beside the road. A hawk swoops overhead. Corn stalks sway in the breeze. The road is smooth, the shoulder wide. I laugh out loud at myself.
Sunflowers
How lucky am I, to be out on this bike at all? Friends are suffering with horrible diseases –– I know one who would give anything to ride even half a mile again. The supportive group of women cyclists I ride with tell me not what I’ve lost but how well I’m doing. “You’re killing it, Ellen! You’re only a minute behind us!” “Ellen! We’ve missed you. You’re doing great!” Pushing 70, I’m out here riding with ‘the fast group’, rather than the moderately-paced group I’ve almost become too fast for. Look at what I can do. I’m out of breath, but grinning ear to ear, reveling in joy. How lucky.
I forgot for a moment that I can choose how I think. Focusing on what I’ve lost, I was riding in depletion. Focusing on what I have, I’m in the light of fullness. It’s true, there is loss, and there is gain. I decide where to put my energy.
I know this. Trained as a psychologist, I’m well aware of the myriad ways I can sabotage myself. And, like everyone, I can also take my own power to change myself. Acknowledging my losses made space to focus on what I have. Stuck in loss, I was disheartened and diminished. If I’d denied loss to focus only on the positive, I’d have abandoned a part of myself.
I am a human being in progress. This ride gave me greater awareness of how I get in my own way, to recognize it quickly and use my own agency to change. Embracing both/and, I honor the wholeness of that experience. Only then can I choose where I want my energy to go. And today, I choose the joy of pedaling through beautiful countryside with a wonderful group of people.
Ellen Schecter, PhD, is a retired psychologist. After a long career as an organizational and leadership consultant to corporations and clinical psychologist in private practice, she now lives in New Mexico with her husband, where she enjoys cycling, hiking, exploring her new home, and planning her next adventures.
Good for you! To become cognizant, and accepting of not only your failures but your successes are beautiful and inspiring.
Thank you Janet for taking the time to comment on my article. I’m glad you found it inspiring! We’re all beings-in-progress, no?
Thanks for taking the time to comment, Janet! I’m glad you found my article inspiring. We’re all beings-in-progress, no?
Oh Ellen you are always a champion and I am glad our cycling group does as much for you as it does me. Thank you for this. We are truly blessed
Thanks so much Merry! You’ve been an inspiration to me for sure.
Thank you for your article. I loved the line, “my ego pouts…” I definitely need to remember it when the aches and pains start. As a member of a senior dragon boat team, ages 50-90+, I more and more frequently lament I can’t race at the level I did 30 years ago. Each decade brings less stamina and more time stretching and resting, but I’m still out there doing it. And, besides feeling great and in charge most of the time, I get a big boost when friends and acquaintances remark I look and act a decade younger! Congratulations on a great story.
Thanks so much Cathy! Sounds like you have been in a similar place. At least we’re out there “aging dynamically”! Race on!
That was a lovely realization. Thank you for sharing with us. I envy you those vistas in New Mexico. I was raised in the southwest, born in Albuquerque.
Thanks for your comment Rosa! Much appreciated. Yes the southwest is a very special place.
Lovely story – thanks for sharing your journey with us.
Ellen,
You and I share the same beautiful name and passions.
I turned 70 on October 28th and started a five day Trek bike tour on October 29th. This is something I’ve never done before and I had concerns and trepidation about whether I had the physical and mental fortitude to be able to ride the many miles
And, serendipitously on the morning of the first day, as anxiety built I opened my email and found your story awaiting me.
Today, I rode 33 miles, my highest mileage ever! And, I did so on a pedal assist bike, something I’ve never done before.
I’m thankful I took care of my body and honored where I am today in this amazing
vessel in which I journey through life.
Thank you for helping me to balance all that I can do with that which is no longer in my best interests.
Kind regards,
Ellen