Something Wicked This Way Comes.... Or not.

When I was about 10 or so, I had just figured out that my personal space - my home - could be invaded.  I don't think anything happened, at least I don't remember anything happening, to cause that realization.  It was just there.

One night, with this thought fresh in my head, I went to bed. My bed was on the opposite side of the room from the door, with a good view of the door. I thought about how I wanted to go to sleep, knowing that at any moment, someone could come through my bedroom door and.... and... do what, I don't know, but they would be a stranger and they wouldn't belong and it would be bad.  

So I chose to sleep facing the door.  It frightened me to think of the terrible things that could happen, but I decided that I wanted to be able to face whatever was coming head on.  So with great trepidation, I rolled onto my right side and faced the door. Eventually, I fell asleep.  Nothing bad happened.

I survived.

Several weeks went by like this.  I intentionally faced the door to confront whatever danger might come.

Then one night,  I thought about it again.   I then decided I was brave enough to put my back to the door.  To sort of trust that no one would come though the door that would do... would do... would do something terrible.  It was a big decision and I fought with myself for quite some time.  It frightened me to think of the terrible things that could happen that I wouldn't see coming.  Finally, however, I did decide to do it.  Nothing bad happened.

I survived.

Why bring this up now?

The day I started riding, I was scared to go out the door and onto the street.  The thought of leaving my street was terrifying.  I don't know why.  I am a grown woman and our neighborhood and those near us are nice, with nice people.  I just was.

Nevertheless, much like facing the door, I got on the bike and I rode.

Nothing bad happened.

I survived.

And the next day and the next ...  I survived them all.

Then came the day that my wife was able to ride with me and again I was terrified.  I had never ridden a bike with her before.  What was going to happen?  I was really quite nervous.

Nevertheless, much like turning my back to the door and trusting, I got on the bike and rode with her.

Nothing bad happened.

I survived.

My childhood memory came back to me on Monday morning when, for the first time in a bit, I had to ride on my own.  I found myself transported back to that decision point in the bed that ultimately boiled down to "Could I do it?  Could I trust myself enough to do the thing that scares me?"

And so I rode.

This week I have ridden 5 out of 6 days so far, which is a new record for me. This week I have ridden 25.1 miles.   A total of 163 miles since I started, with over 12,500 feet in elevation gain.

My number is 242.8. 

And I will ride again tomorrow.