Advice From 21 Year Old Crystal

We’re winding our way into fall, and I’ve been convinced by my daughter to join her in some decluttering before her move away from home. As I was cleaning out a big storage closet, I came across an essay/short story I wrote for my English 101 class forever ago. I was surprised that more than 34 years later, I still seem to be the same person. I don’t think that there were health or life coaches back then, (or not that I knew about,) but there are signs in the story that I was already interested in mindset and goal setting. 

I think that my assignment was to write a short story using similes and metaphors, so I compared a long bike ride to moving through life. I’ve been feeling a little like I’m pedaling into the wind in my current life, so the story helped reassure me that it will likely ease up soon!

I think there are good lessons in the story of my ride, way back when I was still a fairly new cyclist and only 21 years old. It’s almost exactly as I originally wrote it (on a word processor), though I couldn’t help but make a few grammatical changes. Enjoy! 

Circles, English 101, May 8, 1991

The day is sunny and warm with a thin layer of clouds stretching across the sky.  The spring time sun energizes me, waking me from my winter slumber.  I will need the energy as I’ll be on my bicycle for the better part of the day.  

I know most of what is ahead of me.  I see my day beginning at the Markleeville Hot Springs, warming up with rolling hills for about the first ten miles.  The top of Monitor pass will be my next destination.  I know from experience that it will be long and difficult.  I hope to distract myself with the scenery and whatever else I can find so that it won’t seem so long.  

Once at the top, I will be looking forward to the long descent down to Topaz Lake, although I have never traveled that stretch of road before.  If I remember correctly, the highway from Topaz Lake to Gardnerville is a gradual downhill.  Once in Gardnerville, I face another climb back to Woodfords, but at least I’ll be back on familiar terrain.  At Woodfords, I’ll be almost to my final destination of the hot springs, just ten miles more.

As I arrive at the hot springs, I am apprehensive knowing that I've never ridden this far before.  I don’t know whether my body is ready to do this.  Tourists are arriving at the hot springs.  Maybe I should join them in laying in the sun by the pools.  It certainly would be easier and more relaxing.  I decide not to think about it and keep my mind on my task of getting myself and my bike ready to go.

I get on my bike and start pedaling.  The slightly cool air flowing across my body reassures me that this will be an enjoyable way to spend the day.  I set my mind on getting to the bottom of Monitor Pass.  I’ve broken the ride up into short segments in my mind.  I hope that while concentrating on completing the shorter segment, I’ll suddenly find myself at my final destination.  

This is like having long and short term goals in life.  Reaching the short term goals are stepping stones of accomplishment to more challenging aspirations.

I progress steadily towards the bottom of Monitor Pass.  I feel my muscles warming up.  On my right, the East Fork of the Carson River rushes past.  This is another hint that spring is arriving and the snow is melting up top.  I am overwhelmed with spring fever.  The idea of longer days and warmer weather excites me.  I turn a corner and see the road sign that tells me that it’s almost time to start the ascent and the hard work.

Monitor Pass begins fairly flat as the road winds to the left.  Once I go around the corner, I know it will steepen, and I’ll be climbing slowly with no breaks for about eight miles.  This is when the right mindset is required.  I must not think about the climb.  I try to think about school and formulate a list of assignments that I must complete over the course of the weekend.  But most of the time I think about more pleasant thoughts like what I’ll do once school’s out for the summer.  

Every once in a while I look at the road curving up the mountain ahead and my thoughts turn back to the tough climb.  As I near the top, there are several parts of the road that are deceiving.  As I look up, it looks like the road flattens just a few hundred yards ahead.  Luckily, since I’ve climbed this road several times before, I don’t get my hopes up because I know that it doesn’t flatten out and gets a little steeper.  This is similar to school in that I’ve almost reached my goal of transferring to university, but I still have the hard work ahead of me to prepare for finals before I can reach this goal.

I’m getting hungry, I think about stopping, but force myself to keep going to the top.  If I stop, I might not get started again.  I keep convincing myself that it’s only a little further.  Sometimes it helps to be your own mental cheerleader when trying to complete a difficult task.  I finally reach the top.  I get off my bike to rest and eat a snack.  A rest is like taking a vacation.  It’s necessary to prevent burnout.  I sometimes have to force myself to take vacations.  It seems to be much faster to push through without stopping, but I’m learning that life is much more enjoyable and stress free if breaks are taken.

Now I look forward to the long steep downhill.  It’s a welcome relief.  After several miles though, my arms begin to tire.  It’s not as easy as I thought, but the thrill of screaming down the highway makes it worth it.  This part of the route is new to me.  I never know what will be around the next corner.  I guess that one never knows what will be around the next corner in life.  Even on familiar paths there could be a rockslide or something else unexpected around the corner.  I tell myself to pay attention, because the moment that I get too comfortable, something unexpected could happen and I could be caught off guard.  I’ve learned that expecting the unexpected is much easier because no amount of planning will prevent the unexpected from happening.

As I near the bottom, the grass gets greener and there are more trees next to the stream that winds parallel to the road.  On a bicycle, I see so much more than I would if traveling by car.  Not only do I see more, but I experience the sounds and smells that I would miss out on in a car.  I see the highway not just as a road to get me from here to there, but as another group of experiences in itself.  The wildflowers are beginning to bloom down near the bottom of the pass.  I enjoy watching the progression of wildflowers up the mountains as the season progresses.

I reach Highway 395 which will take me past Topaz Lake to Gardnerville.  I can see the lake, but as I pedal it doesn’t seem to get any closer.  I finally get to the lodge at the lake and decide to eat another snack.  I had planned on getting lunch, but the lodge looks dark and smokey inside.  I had forgotten that many of the restaurants in Nevada also double as casinos.  I can’t force myself to go inside when it’s so beautiful outside, so I try to satisfy myself with a candy bar and think that in Gardnerville I’ll get lunch.

After a short break, I start again knowing I’m close to the halfway point.  The gradual downhill I remembered from Topaz Lake to Gardnerville, doesn’t even begin for another five miles.  My memory seems to be selective, as I’ve forgotten that there is also a headwind the entire 20 miles back to Gardnerville.  Funny how that happens.  My memory often blocks out the unpleasant parts of my life.  I guess that if I remembered all the unpleasant parts of my life in complete detail, I might not like life as much.  I certainly wouldn’t repeat as many mistakes, but I probably wouldn’t do other things that were mostly enjoyable again either.  So I guess selective memory can serve a purpose.

I reach Gardnerville and the first store I come to is a 7-11.  I pass it up thinking there will be a better place to eat up ahead.  Of course, I can’t find a place to eat on the outskirts of town.  There are plenty of fast food restaurants, but that would defeat some of the purpose of being out on my bike.  As I search another shopping center for a deli, I see a familiar face.  There are some people that always happen to be there when you really need them.  I go to my friends’ house, happy that I let her family attack my fridge when they’re in Kirkwood.  I take a long break at this point.  Then I look at my watch, noticing how late it’s getting.  This ride is taking much longer than I expected.  So I thank my friend and am on my way again

I figure that I only have another 25 miles to go and I’m counting on a tailwind.  The concept of wind confounds me.  How is it that it changes direction just in time for me to head back into it?  A friend once called this wind that’s always in your face, a “pig wind.”  It’s an apt name.  I resign myself to pushing through the wind.  I’m ready to be done now.  It’s been a long day.  I recognize the need to change my attitude.  I begin to enjoy myself again.  This part of the ride is taking longer than I expected.  The hills that wouldn’t have seemed steep five hours ago take more effort to climb.

I reach Woodfords, only ten more miles to go.  I’m not as good at diverting my thoughts anymore.  All I can think about is getting to the hot springs and soaking in the hot water.  Of course this makes the time go by much slower.  I also get hungry again.  My appetite is huge, I want some real food.  When I finally reach the hot springs, I can’t decide whether I want to eat or soak in the hot water more.  I compromise and eat the snack in my car and then get into the pool as quickly as possible.

As I sit in the water, I feel the exhaustion setting in.  I don’t move.  I stare into space.  I’ve completed my longest ride.  I feel good about it.  I’ve come full circle.  I’m back to the same place I started, but I’m a different person now.  Every experience makes you into the person that you are at a moment in time.  That’s what makes every person different and every experience important and worthwhile.  I’m glad I decided to do this bike ride instead of spending the day laying in the sun.  I’m reassured that the best things in life are achieved the hard way.