It takes a village to ride a bike.
You usually get these notes from me at 10:15am (or somewhere thereabouts; UTC+Military time is really difficult for me to calculate for some reason, and that's the time my newsletter service is set in); so I apologize for the delay. My schedule is a whirlwind now that the semester has started again and it surprised me to realize in the middle of church today that it's September 15th!
Which means it's now been two months since I road my bike 206 miles from Seattle to Portland in 90-degree weather. It was so amazing to challenge myself like that, and...I haven't been on a bike since. I'm still experiencing intermittent but severe, throbbing headaches, likely from "biker's neck," which is like tennis elbow, but in your neck when you hold your head and shoulders in the position you have to when you're riding a bike for way too long. I don't really miss being on a bike - all that training I did is kind of insane to think about - and I'm now thinking about my net major athletic event being something swimming related, though I may do RAGBRAI (biking across the state of Iowa) with my uncle in the next couple of years.
And yet, I miss the STP still. The STP had intimidated me since I moved to Seattle almost 20 years ago, especially when I tried my first century ride - what was supposed to be Camano Island back to Seattle after a church camping trip - and I had to stop at 85 miles because the pain in my wrists made it too difficult to squeeze the brakes. And if it hurts too much to stop, you really shouldn't start. (#PullQuote?)
Anyway, I trained for a year and learned how to lift weights in the meantime, though I don't know that the personal trainer I worked with was really the best fit for me toward the end. I think I need more specialized help - read: I'm a woman, and I need someone who understands cycles - and, honestly, I think my body composition is actually worse now than when I started over a year ago. I have definitely gained weight (some of it is muscle, yes, but for sure not all of it, frustratingly enough), I don't look like I've gained muscle, and I still don't know how to make sense of the world of nutrition, especially with my major food restrictions.
The relationship with my trainer started out great, and to be fair to my trainer, I didn't really voice these concerns to him, but that's partly because I didn't think I would feel heard or understood (and there are reasons that are both on me and on him for that). Partly, it's because weight gain is really difficult for me to talk about and partly it's because I believe I need someone with more specific knowledge about my whacko food issues to actually help. And I'm finally giving myself permission to find those people.
Last year was about facing obstacles - not even necessarily fears, just challenging long-held and oft-repeated stories we have about ourselves and our limits (in this instance, the "I can't do the STP"). check. This year is about giving myself permission to build my village the way I need it and the Lord guides it to be. So, no more guilt helping. No more "Everyone else has set boundaries with them and I'm the only one they have left" (how's that for a killer story? Super humble, right?). No more saying yes because "the only thing I have to exchange for relationship is my boundaries because I'm not actually likable or desirable to be around" (I've got stories for days!). No more chameleoning until I volcano (read: people pleasing because I don't trust I won't be totally alone if I don't give everyone what they want from me and then exploding out of resentment, overwhelm, and feeling totally invisible and uncared for myself). No more neglecting myself because I think it's the virtuous or most helpful thing to do. It took a village to ride a bike. And it takes a (maybe different one) village to get back on one.