As much as I love to ride there are days that I don’t. The reasons vary from sloth to injury with a myriad of rationalizations, excuses and justifications in between. Over time I’ve learned nothing is as simple as it appears and whatever is going on in my head is always worth inspecting even if it makes me an uncertain rider.

Independence

I was raised to be independent, take care of things, not complain, and move on. Attendant to that way of functioning in the world is what I call the “know it all” personality that reduces everything to a simple formula with little attention to the details that make every person and experience unique. It may be what makes slogans so seductive – everything from “Just say no to drugs” to “Just do it”. I certainly lean toward the easy solution that avoids the troublesome and messy landscape of emotion. In that place I can become an uncertain rider.

Yesterday morning my head was clogged with concerns and worries creating a swirl of anxious thoughts about everything from the manner in which I would repair a section of drywall in the bathroom to figuring out how to tackle production of 60 online courses when I get back to work. With my brain switching quickly from one thought to the next it was difficult to focus mental or physical energy on anything including riding.

Not Riding

Every rider has reasons not to ride. Those reasons provide the framework to evaluate situations in which our skills, expertise and comfort fit. It’s different for everyone – a framework that keeps one rider smiling may terrify another. Finding personal limits is scary because it may mean you’re different than everyone else. In some riding circles being different is not a comfortable position. The same often applies to life – I think of my return from Germany in 1964 with a brand new pair of suede Lederhosen thinking they were the coolest thing ever. Then I wore them to my 5th grade class…

Self Portraits

I stopped on the way to the Pump Station Cafe to make this self-portrait because I knew something wasn’t quite right and there are times when turning the camera my direction helps diagnose problems. (A gift from long ago via Ralph Hattersley’s book Discover Your Self Through Photography).

So here I am – what do I see?

First, it’s cold outside and I’m wearing jeans instead of my armored overpants. Diverging from wearing all the gear all the time always means something. In this case I didn’t really want to ride and wasn’t sure why I even got on the scooter in the first place.

Second, I’m standing in the water. I chose the spot to park the Vespa based on the photographic possibilities offered by reflections in the water. Not paying attention led me to stand in the water. Not paying attention while riding, especially on a cold, wet day can lead to poor choices.

On Down the Road

On this day I moved on to the Pump Station to write in my journal, eavesdrop on conversations, and slowly sort out my thoughts. An hour later I was at home doing chores. An hour after that I was back on the Vespa with all the gear, riding into the gloom, no longer an uncertain rider.