Dad: “What happened to the bike? It’s just sitting in the basement like a museum piece. I don’t see you ride it anymore. What happened, is it packed up for the winter?”
Yikes. This is what I feared: My bicycling habit falling off.
On the one hand, it wasn’t supposed to go this way. I was supposed to be one of those cats who bike every day, wherever I have to go. But… something happened.
My energy level has completely fallen off. A combination of short daylight hours, minimal chillout time, poor nutrition, and the stress and responsibilities of wrangling a pre-schooler have wrecked my carefree habits. Walking has become my way to zone out; sometimes it seems like bicycling takes too much effort.
I can commit to biking for one hour a week. Certainly that’s not too much; there are 168 hours in a week. I’ve gotta take some time for me, to get away from the life and strictures I’ve created for myself. Tomorrow I’m off — I’ll hit the road then.
As well, not riding has become a habit — a downward spiral caused and perpetuated by lethargy. I love my bike, and I’ve spent a lot of time and cash building it up and making it durable and making riding very sustainable. Grrrr… fall and wintertime and spring are supposed to be my seasons to hit the roads. Instead, it became my time to rustle up the kidlet when the afternoon came, enjoy the last drops of daylight on the drive home, carry his sleeping body up the stairs to nap, catch a shower, and prepare his homework, heat up dinner and prepare for bath time and bedtime.
Even mornings are so tiring that the last thing I want to do is look at my bike, an emblem of lighter, freer times. Rise early, bathe, iron a shirt, iron his school uniform, nuke a bottle of milk, and coax him awake, and coax him into brushing his teeth, freshening up, putting on his clothes and going to school, with minimal whining. Some days are better than others, especially at his early age.
And when I’m not doing all that, it’s my time to catch up on all the many household chores that I otherwise missed. The danger of running things on autopilot is that the days fly by. Seasons fly by. And many joyless months fly by, just doing the routine, minding the clock, sticking the little one into school, and then putting the little one to bed because… “tomorrow’s another day.”
On a deeper level, I don’t bike because I’m not excited about being in NYC anymore. I never intended to be here this long, for 15+ years after high school. Once I get out west… I’ll explore, by bike.
I just turned 33. Whoa. Jeez… that was fast.
It won’t be long now. The graduate program deadline is approaching — time to get back to work on composing my admissions packet. I completed composing the edited version of my video work to send off, complete with opening and closing slates with my contact info, and a kick-ass DVD menu. I’m very happy and proud to have something worth sending off to the school of my dreams. Now, all that remains is my treatment and my statement of purpose.
I’m scared, but I’m calm. It’s not that I’m scared because I don’t think I can do it — I’ve just got a bout of nerves because I respect the attention and work this kind of an undertaking requires. Let’s go.
