Be careful what you wish for because sometimes you just may get it!
I have a fat bike. Her name is Margaret. I’ve wanted Margaret for the last two years and, although I’ve rented fat bikes occasionally, my primary sport has been trail running. I’m a more-than-competent trail runner, and love what it gives me. But, I a few years ago I found myself drawn to fat bikes. I have spoken endlessly of the virtues of fat biking to family, friends, patients, well… to anyone who would listen, and even those who would rather not.
For the uninitiated let me just give a brief description of Margaret: Black and blue frame and forks (fitting ????) that accommodate 4.9-inch-wide tires… basically just shy of a jeep wrangler. At first glance she’s a promise of a ride anywhere, any terrain, any weather. But read the fine print (look closely) there’s no clips on her hard, flat pedals, basically a cautionary whisper that she’s going to throw you off the first chance she gets. There are no frills with Margaret, and that’s the draw for me. She is the unknown. Something that poses possible risks, yet equally great rewards.
I moved from long distance multi-sport events like Ironman over to ultra-trail running about 7 years ago, and I’ve grown very comfortable in my sport. Now does that mean its cake for me to do trail running or ultra-long races? Absolutely not. But, what it does mean, is that I’ve learned many of the ins and outs of the sport, which makes it more predictable. What I should eat, how to dress for best comfort, where to lube (God forbid if I didn’t know that!), how to keep my focus on the trail, how to stick to a physical and mental game plan, what shoes to wear, and most, importantly, how to starve those adrenalin-pumping, mental-emotional gremlins like fear, anger, and self judgment when they start to make a three course meal out of my self confidence. Its fair to say I am comfortable being uncomfortable within ultra-running. I do not have this safety net of familiarity with Margaret.
Before Margaret, when I’ve rented a fat bike, it was for nothing but fun. I rode it around the property by the bike shop, on roads, on easy trail. I saved my ride times for days when I didn’t need to put in a big effort on my runs, or worry about my heart rate. Merely cross training, I told myself. Just something different to do. Then came the day where I finally got my very own fat bike. Margaret. That wonderful first ride with her where every magical moment I ‘try’ to ride and I don’t quite get it right is met with self-acceptance.
My positive coach is the only one in my head. “You’re just getting used to this.” Or, “Great effort just being on Perry Hill. Great job!!!”
Then comes day four. My positive coach’s voice has grown quiet, while gremlins of self-doubt and criticism seemed to have found a megaphone in my head. “What the hell, I run these trails all the time!” Foot slips off the pedal stopping forward movement for the gazillionth time in an hour. “I could freakin’ walk this faster!”
I move to the side of the trail and watch as this kid glides his bike past me like he’s on some kind of darn magic carpet ride. “You alright?” he asks. That’s right — he’s not even out of breath.
I want to ask him if he saw my confidence on the trail, maybe rode over it? To top it off, this kid is actually enjoying himself. “Fine,” I gasp, “just new to this. Let me watch you climb.”
“Sure!” He smiles that innocent young smile that you WISH was filled with arrogance, so you could hate him, but you know he’s only trying to help as he rides off up the rooty, rocky trail with the grace of a synchronized swimmer.
“Come on.”
Margaret isn’t celebrating my strengths. She’s not awarding me with any slaps on the back from my new mountain bike community, or the occasional ego stroke that could pump up my self-esteem. In fact, Margaret is doing just the opposite. She calling Me into question — my ability to govern my emotions into question (we’ve already had some ‘emotional’ conversations). She refuses to celebrate or emphasize my strengths on the trail like ultra running has for me. Margaret, my new and incredibly stubborn mental-emotional tool (I know, it’s just a bike, but still…) isn’t building mental-emotional resilience for me…
She is, however, allowing me the opportunity to build it for myself.
Margaret is unfamiliar (I’ve never ridden trails. Don’t know what gears to be in, when to pedal…). She’s uncomfortable (the seat hurts, position hurts, different muscles hurt). She calls my abilities into question (I run these trails, why can’t I bike them!?!). Yet, all the while she is giving me an opportunity to improve (well I got farther than yesterday); build patience (remembering no climb I ever do while running was perfected overnight); stay in the moment (you fall a lot harder and a great deal more often if you don’t pay attention on a bike).
The point is, my resilience, physical, mental, emotional, is always better served, created, and grown from doing the uncomfortable or less familiar things. Margaret is a great tool because she is just that: a challenge. Not one that I’ve grown accustomed to, no matter how difficult, but one that demands my attention, my focus, my ability to process my uncomfortable-emotions fairly quickly, while also giving me the opportunity to experience new excitement or joy when I succeed.
We all have expertise in something that helps us build and maintain our mental-emotional tool boxes. Our go-to things that leave us feeling confident and capable. What new challenge have you introduced, or could you introduce into your life that could give you greater mental-emotional gain for the time spent? Consider writing down some of the worst things that could happen if you tried? Once you flush those fears out into the open, and their shadows recede, bringing them into real proportion, write down what are the best things that could happen if you seized the opportunity for something new. New mental strength? Focus? New-found confidence? I would love for you to share what you come up with! ????
