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December 18, 2006
the grace to go slow 
There is nothing like commuting to work on a morning where it's 30 degrees out there to make you feel like you can do anything.
I rode Pinky, my three-speed. I had a lot of stuff to haul today: christmas paper, gifts to be wrapped, my usual cache of clothes to change into, etc. So I felt rather festive, riding around with christmas paper rolls sticking out of my pannier. And since it was cold, there weren't so many folks out on foot or on bike.
I read something over the weekend that has reverberated over and over again: Grant me the grace to go slow. Especially at this time of year, everything seems feverish. But does it need to be?
Riding Pinky is one way of going slow. It's also just a fun bike to ride, as it's pink with lots of chrome, and a big front basket that I've attached silk flowers to. And the ride in went without much happening. No one threatened me with their car, I chatted with lots of folks as they were on their way whereever it was they were going, and I managed to not fall over on the ice. That last thing is huge, really.
I just had a bad day on Wednesday, who knows why, and so I am cycling home, and I am still fairly miserable. The ride home is a maker or breaker: usually, I feel better after the ride, but there are just some days, infrequent, where I feel much worse.
Where we begin our story, I could really go either way. I'm on Wheeler Ave, which is a bus-only road with a bike path, heading up the hill. Wheeler always has a lot of debris in the bike path, and while I have the number to call, and I have a cell phone, I'm always too wanting to get home to actually stop the bicycle, find the number, and find the cell phone.
I'm riding, and I hear my keys hit the ground. Wha? So I go to stop the bike, and somehow manage to get a tree branch in the chain, and then somehow I end up on the ground, still on the bike. It was one of those slow motion falls, so I have a few bruises but it didn't really hurt anything really but my pride. And of course, there were a number of people who saw it, so I could feel good and mortified.
So I get my keys, I zip up that pocket (honestly!), and get started again. And there, 10 ft later, is a big pile of glass. I look over my shoulder to see if I can pull out into the bus lane, and I see the cops, barrelling up the hill. So I stop again.
From that point on, I felt kinda shakey on the bike. I brought it in to the bike shop on Friday for its annual maintenance, and they fixed it all up, but they adjusted the seat, and I tried riding with the seat as they had set it. Way too high, I could barely reach the pedals! It took several tries to get it back where it was supposed to be. And that whole ride home, I was cautious; not because of others, but because I was afraid my balance was just off.
But on Sunday, I finally went for a long ride on Pinky. It was good, and I regained my confidence.
As I think about going slow, it seems I should also think about going small. I've got so much stuff, I'm overrunning the house. And there's only two of us there. It's nuts. So I've been slowly tossing things. I filled a couple bags over the weekend, and I've spent the morning cleaning the office. I just want to get the slate clean, is that too much to ask?
Posted at December 18, 2006
Comments
I just started reading a book about how to sustain a book-length writing project. Chapter Five is called "Slow Is Fearless," about how fear and anxiety makes people rush through projects and life in general because they want to get through it before it all falls apart. As soon as I saw that chapter title I thought of this post. :)
Posted by: Holly at December 18, 2006 8:42 PM