Free the Feet!
GUESS WHAT?????!!!!!!!
Today I was able to ride my bike into town!!! Last night Nate had me try on my biking shoes that clip onto the pedals. I needed to see if the shoes would push too hard on my toenail which is doing much better but is still tender and healing. The second I pushed my foot in, the pressure of the shoe caused instant pain and discomfort. Nope. Ain’t happening. As I looked up at Nate with complete discouragement he quickly asked “Do you want me to change it back to the normal pedals so you can wear your comfortable tennis shoes and then you can still bike into town?” It’s been two weeks of not being able to run or bike and Nate knew my mental morale was diving into the dark side.
He’s a genius. And fucking awesome. “Yes please!” I enthusiastically replied. Maybe there is hope on this horizon after all.
Here’s the strange part though: Going back to regular pedals kinda wigged me out. I have gotten so used to being clipped to my bike, that it felt weird to be able to lift my foot off the pedal anytime I wanted to. One would think that after spending my entire life on bikes with normal pedals, this would be easy to transition back to. But no. Hell no. You see, being clipped in means that you not only push down to pedal, you also pull up. It’s a serious whole-leg workout. And after spending a couple of months in absolute fear, struggling to learn how to clip in and out, and finding myself face down on the concrete stuck to my bike many times, I have finally gotten used to it. It’s become natural and I don’t really have to think about it anymore. As I headed out today, I wondered what it would feel like to ride with regular pedals. I felt strangely scared. And for good reason. It was scary! My feet kept randomly lifting off the pedals, which threw me a little off balance, which made my heart jump, which made me wonder how the hell people stay on bikes without being securely attached to them! I was like “Oh my god, what if my body just decides to bail and jumps off into the ditch while I’m cruising down a hill at 25 mph? How am I supposed to hold my body onto this precarious piece of transportation? I need some stability! This freedom of feet doesn’t feel like a very wise decision. Where’s the duck tape when I need it?”
Anyways, the good news is that I managed to keep my feet enough under control that they chose to stay to pedal me all the way into town. And although it was a challenging adjustment, I had an absolute blast being back out in nature and feeling the wind on my face and the road beneath my tires. And as I rode, I thought. I wondered. I processed. I mused.
I find it so interesting that the human brain finds comfort in the things we get used to. It took me a while to make new pathways as I learned to ride with clip pedals but once I finally got it, it felt normal. And though in many ways it’s probably safer to not be trapped on my bike, it felt dangerous being unclipped. It felt unpredictable. The freedom actually felt scary.
Growing up in the village, I always thought I was living in the safest place on earth. The leaders told us that on a regular basis. That we were the luckiest people on the face of the earth. One of the musicians even wrote a song -- using those exact words -- that we all sang every week. So, yeah. It was definitely brainwashed into me. After 26 years of that, it was really scary moving to Colorado away from a place that I felt safe in. From all I had been told, the world was an evil place just waiting to attack me. One of the things I wanted right off the bat was a watchdog. I was terrified of being home with the kids and Nate being at work. I imagined wicked people would sneak up the second Nate left and do lord knows what. So we got a puppy who turned into a fabulous watchdog and still is today. But the wicked, sneaky people never came. Only some Jehovah's witnesses every week whom I made friends with and gave them a painting off my wall because they liked it. They were kind, and I felt bad that they had to be knocking on people’s doors. I figured they at least earned themselves a nice painting. ;)
But that wasn’t the scariest thing. The scariest thing by far, was when we moved to MO, the shit hit the fan, and we realized that we needed to completely relook at everything we had ever believed. It’s not easy changing what you believe. Our brains had been hard-wired for many years since the time we were born, to see life a certain way. Questioning everything was shit scary. I didn’t know what was up and down. I didn’t know what were lies and what were truths. I didn’t know if I could ever trust myself to know. And honestly, more than three years later, I still don’t have it all figured out. Mostly I have gotten okay with not having a concrete way of seeing things. I have allowed myself to be curious and not have to have all the answers. Who really does anyways? I have become somewhat comfortable with being uncomfortable, if that makes any sense.
The village trapped me. It told me what to do and what to believe. There was absolutely no thinking for myself. No using my voice. No questioning. No freedom. But somehow, that trap gave me a sense of security. I didn’t have to wonder what I should or shouldn’t do, I just did what I was told. It was predictable. And humans like predictability. It feels safe.
Discovering myself and taking my freedom was so fucking scary. Like my feet flying randomly off the pedals. I didn’t trust myself to keep my feet down on the pedals. Like free falling. I felt like I was grasping for the pull cord but I couldn’t find it. Slowly though, with a lot of intention, counseling, and taking time to heal, I started to enjoy the feeling of freedom. The wind in my face, feeling like I am flying. That’s how it feels on my bike sometimes. Maybe that’s why I dig biking so much. 🙂
Nowadays, I wonder a lot. I am curious about life; about why I think what I do and why I react the way I do. I muse about other people and how they see life. I try to catch myself when I find myself judging others and I remember that we all get to choose. We all get to choose the way we think and the way we behave. We are all wired differently. My goal is to stay fluid and open to continued growth and learning as the world changes and evolves. I never again want to be so hard-wired that I find myself trapped in the security of others' control.
My freedom is mine. I will no longer hand it over to anyone else. Even though it can still feel scary at times to allow myself the freedom to build a life I love but others disagree with.
There is one thing I am sure of: I have grown to love my freedom and taking it has been worth all the blood, sweat, and tears. I am committed to empowering others to also find their freedom. I truly believe it’s why I am here. My story is hard but I will use it as an opportunity to help others.
I love each of you. Your story matters. Your freedom matters. You matter.
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