“Sometimes the only way out is through.”
Recently I reconnected with an old friend. My trail bike. I’d often glance at it hanging on a hook from a rafter in my shed, promising myself that one of these days I’m going to take it out for a ride.
Today was the day.
Not too far from home is a large state forest with miles of trails and unpaved fire access roads, a natural habitat for trail bikes to explore and wander. It had been years since my last ride here but it felt like I hadn’t missed a beat as I headed off on my adventure.
Heavy rains over the past few days made the dirt roads a bit muddy in places, but mud always makes trail bike riding more exciting, more primal. Getting filthy is part of the process and before too long mud was pretty much everywhere. I guess the kid in me has never outgrown his fascination with mud.
As I got deeper into the woods the uneven nature of the roads were partially flooded from the rains. As much as I enjoy mud, I would navigate my bike around the edges of these deep puddles adding a bit more intensity to the ride. But at one point, the road was completely flooded from side to side. Impassable.
Unless I wanted to get very wet.
With trees bordering both sides of the flooded road, I stopped and assessed my options. The “puddle” was a good 30 feet long, I had no idea how deep it was, and there was no dry alternative to get around what was in front of me.
“Sometimes the only way out is through.”
Sitting on my bike contemplating the words of Robert Frost, I knew that to get beyond what was in front of me I would need to go through what was in front of me. There really wasn’t any other option other than giving up and turning back. And I wasn’t about to give up. Not fully aware of any unseen rocky hazards lurking in the muddy water, I simply pedaled my way into the water, hopeful I chose a safe path and eventually got to the other side. I’m not sure when my boots will dry out, but I made it through.
Sometimes life works the same way, doesn’t it? Sometimes on the road of life we find ourselves standing in front of challenging emotional puddles of murky water filled with unseen jagged rocks with no way around them. I’ve certainly had my share of those moments, often stuck, often paralyzed by the fear and uncertainty inherent with those moments. Often I would distract myself, convincing myself that the distractions were me taking some meaningful action when in reality the distractions proved to be nothing more than an avoidance of the undeniable task in front of me. But no matter the distraction, there I was, still standing at an emotional crossroads fearful of the challenges of moving forward.
Looking back through my life, these moments came at times when there was something I needed to learn through experience. Standing uncomfortably on the edge, often I’d struggle with the challenges of moving through what was in front of me. But it was in moving forward, as fearful as I was, where I learned the things about life and myself which were foundational moments of personal growth. There were many times I never trusted myself to move forward, but the experience of willingly walking through the fears enough times has allowed me to trust in my abilities to move forward when moving forward is my only real option.
Like wet boots and legs caked in mud, moving forward can still feel quite uncomfortable.
But it’s a far more desirable discomfort than the familiar discomfort of being stuck where you know you don’t want to be.
Two pains.
Which one will you choose?
Photo by Kody Goodson on Unsplash
Peter Mis LivingHalfFull.com 