A Big Goal & Doing vs. Becoming
I DID IT. I FINALLY DID IT.
I finally accomplished a deeply significant goal of mine for the year, but I haven’t known how to put words to it, and it’s been throughly frustrating me. This morning I had a lightbulb moment, reading the following on setting New Year’s goals:
“Instead of a list of things you’d like to accomplish, which are sometimes out of your control, what if you made a list of traits of the person you’d like to become, which is mostly within your control?
Go sky diving vs. Become a brave person
Sign up for a painting class vs. Become an artist
Volunteer at a non-profit vs. Become a caring person”
Reading those words, I immediately knew why I didn’t feel right just telling about what I accomplished. It wasn’t nearly as much about what I did, but who I became in the 2 months leading up to it, after spending 2/3rds of the past year a sick, weakened, deeply lonely, and throughly disheartened shell of myself. It was about redeeming what felt like a wasted year, a year that I didn’t know how I would survive let alone be able to imagine thriving at the end of.
So what did I do anyway? I went and conquered all of Mohican. 24 miles on the mountain bike. 2,600 feet of climbing. 3 hours and 15 minutes with no real rest, just a few pauses still on the bike for water and half a protein bar. Done.
It was a goal I decided upon at the beginning of October. I still have absolutely no idea what compelled me to come up with such a ridiculous goal considering I had barely ridden all summer, and the two trails I had managed in the weeks leading up to that decision had left me nauseous, in pain, shaking, and at one point on my knees trying not to pass out halfway through the second trail. But for some reason those rides sparked a fire, and once I had the idea in my head it was settled, and there were two months to get there and get it done. Those two months passed with an insane amount of stubbornness, pain, and joy in the preparation, and the goal was conquered. It was only upon finishing those blessed 24 miles that I realized it was never about Mohican itself.
It wasn’t as much about the miles ridden at Mohican as the miles ridden in the months leading up to the ride, miles that would be my teacher for more than I would have ever imagined. It wasn’t as much about finishing the goal as it was having the courage to speak the goal into existence to begin with, first tentatively, then with stubborn determination, after a year of fear, weakness, and failure. It was about starting to believe that I can do whatever hard things I set my mind and body to, instead of believing those hard things were reserved for the more competent and naturally gifted.
It was about learning that pain is not the enemy, that pain is rather a voice I can chose how I listen and respond to, that pain is not something to be avoided at all costs, that pain is not something that dictates my life anymore. It was about finding deep satisfaction on the other side of suffering, and learning to gladly choose the suffering on purpose, to lean into the suffering, to really trust the outcome in the midst of the pain. It was about not resenting my body for its limitations, but giving thanks for its abilities while asking for just a little bit more. It was about learning to plaster a smile on my face while suffering my way up countless hills, not the timid and insincere smile of a lifetime of pretending to be fine, but a true, deep rooted grin growing from the astonishment and gratitude of a body once again able to work hard.
It was about learning that I do have a place in this wild and wonderful mountain biking world, after a lifetime of believing I don’t belong in any remotely athletic endeavor, let alone the community within it. It was about somewhere along the way shedding the layers of who I thought I should be and figuring out I can show up in this community as myself…and that would be accepted and enough. It was about the moment of pulling my makeup out a couple months into the journey, and it feeling unfamiliar and unnecessary instead of needed. It was realizing that my femininity is inherent, sweatiness and all, instead of being something I have to put on, be it in a certain demeanor or specific attire. It was realizing the qualities and traits I value and want others to value have absolutely nothing to do with the neatness of my appearance, the fanciness of my clothes, or the properness of my demeanor. It was about becoming more fully myself, and discovering exactly who that was along the way.
It was also very much about Steve, who led me not just around Mohican to accomplish the final goal, but also through the months leading up to the goal. For those who do not have the privilege of knowing Steve, he is someone who has pushed through more pain than most of us will ever fathom just to exist let alone get on the bike time and time again to log the high miles he does. He is an incredible human and talented mountain biker who possesses an absolutely astonishing amount of strength, grit, and determination, and somehow even greater amounts of patience, generosity, and pure kindness. Earlier in the year we befriended each other casually, but he suddenly found himself among the deeply significant souls in my life when he saw me struggling on the bike mid-September and immediately understood. Before he probably knew what was happening, he was deeply entrenched in the journey, maybe even the reason behind the goal. It was about having him, with all his strength and competence, look at me, with all my issues and weaknesses and fears, and speak belief into me. It was about seeing his example of pushing through much worse, and deciding to grit my teeth to follow, time and time again. It was about him calling me capable when I felt inadequate, it was about him calling me determined when I felt weak, it was about him believing in me up another hill, through another mile, when I didn’t know if I had it in me. It took months for me to untangle and start to believe everything I just wrote above, and Steve believed much of it for me until I could. Driving home after he led me around Mohican I cried deeply grateful tears, realizing the prize wasn’t accomplishing Mohican, but my gaining a friend such as this in the process. Mohican would have been empty had I ridden it alone.
So here I sit, at the tail end of 2021, knowing full well I failed at the list of goals I set at the beginning of the year about doubling my photography income again, accomplishing this, doing that, blah blah blah. Instead I am merely here, which in and of itself is a small miracle and would be almost enough. (Read here for the battle of choosing life this year.) But no, I also get to be alive, more fully alive, than I have been in years. The past few months have been more full of life than than past few years, and have allowed me to become more fully Emily than I knew possible. The journey is not over, but that there is part of the beauty. What satisfaction is there in being finished? Life continues around the next bend, up the next hill. It’s not what you accomplish, but who you become along the way. Keep pedaling my friends, and if you can, find someone faster and with a heart of gold to chase, too.
…and even though it was about becoming, I do have to say, DAMN did it feel good rolling out of that final mile of Mohican. 10/10 do recommend. 😁
Nothing but smiles after finishing Mohican with my mountain bike Jedi Master and dearest of friends. Then, snapshots of some of the miles preparing the way to Mohican, always chasing his kind lead. I can practically feel my gritted teeth and the grin plastered on my face, just looking at all of these rides. Boy is it good to be alive.
P.S. A special thanks has to be given to my deeply loving husband Josiah too. He does not share in the insanity of the bike, but he chose to love me, which is just about as crazy. Credit must go to him delighting in me when I came home from so many rides so full of life, of him throughly abolishing me of all guilt for not being “pretty and clean and a good housewife.” It was he who encouraged me to chase that which made me feel fully alive, celebrating the victories and listening to the endless stories of near defeats. It is he who makes me feel most fully seen and accepted.