Life Lessons Learned on the Trail
Dear Rudy,
You asked for stories about travels in which one's blinders come off,
causing you to see the world differently. My blinders came off relatively
close to home.
Several years ago, I was a newbie mountain bike rider and was, well, less
than mediocre. I couldn't seem to stay on the trail. Trees jumped in my
path. I couldn't seem to dodge a rock. The harder I concentrated, the harder
I hit an obstacle! One day, as I was struggling to stay on a mountain trail
just a few miles from my Salt Lake City home, I kept thinking, "Why is this
so hard? I rode bikes as a kid!"
Finally, my riding companion stopped, turned around, and looked at me with
exasperation. "Janice," he said, "don't look where you don't want to go."
The front wheel, he explained, would follow my eyes. "Don't look at the rock
-- look at the space between the rocks. Don't look at the tree * look at the
ground beside the tree. And BY ALL MEANS, don't look OVER the cliff."
As he said that, I had one of those cosmic "ah-ha!" moments. That bicycling
axiom has become my metaphor for living my life, for choosing happiness. I
had spent much of my life focusing on what I did NOT want. I was inexorably
drawn to it, like a bike to a tree. But then I told myself, no. I will look
where I WANT to go.
Rudy, thank you for your inspiring lessons from the road. I hope you enjoyed
my lesson on the trail.
Janice
Salt Lake City, Utah
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