Winter Blues and Winter Fixes....

I'm a four season rider in the Pacific Northwest, where it is truly possible to ride all four seasons.  However, that doesn't mean it's a good idea to ride every day.  We do get the occasional snow and ice, and the past two years, I've hit ice patches commuting to work that woke me up, but luckily didn't send me down.  This year, I've been trying to be a bit more responsible about which days I choose to ride,, and taking four wheels if it's iffy.

This means rather than riding daily, I'm riding 1-2 times a week, and I feel it in my energy levels.  I'm starting to think I've got an adrenaline addiction; without riding, I'm a bit more sleepy when I get to work, and a bit less perky at the end of my day.  But, our winters are usually mild, so I also keep hoping we've gotten the snow out of our system for a bit, and I can go back to riding daily after the new year.

However, it's not all doom and gloom.  To get my fix in a different way, I've started working on a Women's ADV magazine.  http://womenadvriders.com/  This has stretched me in a dozen new ways already, and I look forward to stretching in even more directions.

It has made me ponder the difference between my blogging and magazine writing.  In blogging, I'm journaling, and sharing with the thought that perhaps someone else has felt this way, and might be interested in reading a fellow travelers perspective. Or they have never felt something I'm describing, but reading about it broadens their perspective. Or perhaps no body reads it, but I've gotten to process my feelings in writing, and I can move forward in a new way.  For the magazine, I am always thinking about my intent and my audience.  I want to write things that either inspire or inform.  It's no longer about my process, but about reaching out and communicating.  I've also realized that my photography skills and equipment may need some upgrading to do a better job.  And, as someone who is frequently writing about working on a bike as a novice and riding skills, I'm really working on how to effectively communicate my experiences in those areas.

Another piece of fun that has happened is that we bought a little 1996 Geo Metro to meet my occasional commuting needs.  Nathan and I have gotten to do some tinkering on it, and I got to drive it in said snow, and made some discoveries.  Having grown up in California, I never learned to drive in the snow.  Even living in Spokane for 5 years, I learned that I had no idea how to drive in the snow unless the roads were plowed.  However, hanging out with Nathan and riding a motorcycle off road somehow accidentally taught me how to drive in the snow!  My four point basic lesson was 1) stay calm.  I've had lots of experience learning how to keep myself calm while riding, and it translated to driving in the snow.  2) Keep your momentum up.  So many cars were abandoned during our recent snow storm due to people getting stuck on hills.  3) Be smooth on the controls.  This is related to staying calm.  When I am all tensed up and panicked, I tend to jam on the brakes and give too much steering input.  When I am calm, I just gently nudge the car where it needs to go.  4) Brake, then turn.  This is something I learned in motorcycling that somehow I'd never learned before.  Using these skills and sticking to main roads (I know the unplowed hills were an impossibility) I safely made it home with not a single scary moment.

The sun is out today and tomorrow, so I'm hoping to shake some of these winter blues with at least a sort ride.  Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all my friends and family!

Doing the ride of shame....

I can't believe I'm going to put this out there, but when I was learning to ride I really could have used some stories like this from experienced riders, so here goes...

The punchline: I dropped my bike, on the street, at a stoplight.

Phew. Bandaid ripped off. Ouch.  Here's what happened...

Tuesday morning, a totally normal dark and rainy Oregon morning, I'm on my way to work.  I'm at a stoplight not far from home.  The light turns green, and without thinking, I put my feet on the pegs, roll on the gas, let out the clutch, like I have well over a million times before, and.... The bike dies.  Before I even know what is happening, the bike is falling, and I can't get a foot on the ground to stop it before it was past the point of no return.  So, we fall, and I am glad I'd just purchased D3O hip armor for my pants.  I stand up, pick up my bike (thank goodness I can do that, because while it was AWFUL that there were other cars watching this, not a one even put their car in park to try to help) hop on, turn the bike on, and this time, carefully roll on the gas, let out the clutch, and bam. The bike dies again.  (I'm ready this time, it doesn't fall over.)  I take a moment to be thoroughly perplexed, look at the mileage on my odometer, and decide that while my odometer says I have 30 miles to ride before reserve, perhaps there was an oops with that in the not too distant past, put the bike on reserve, again start it, and carefully roll on the gas and let out the clutch, and I am off.  For about 3 feet, because the light is red again.

Now, as a new rider, three years ago, it wasn't unusual for me to kill my ninja at a stoplight, but this has not happened for as long as I can remember.  So, for the rest of my ride, even though there was no way most of the rest of the Portland could have seen this happen, I'm hanging my head in embarrassment about what happened.  Walk of Shame comes up on my playlist, and I think yes, I'm doing the ride of shame.

As an update, the gas is behaving normally, no leaks in the fuel system, and the bike is running great, so I just have to assume something messed with odometer setting while we were working on the bike last weekend.

So, internet, you decide, do I lose my badass biker card?

Be where your feet are....

Sometimes, maybe even usually, I learn much more from my clients than I feel they learn from me.  This week, someone shared a quote "Be where your feet are."  Sometimes things take up residence in my mind, and replay in many situations.

There is something so concrete about being where your feet are, while my mind wants to wander to where my feet were, or where they will be tomorrow.  This is something I have fallen in love with in motorcycling; letting your mind wander can lead to some very scary situations, so my attention is consistently brought back to the present.

Yet, as humans with full and varied lives, we have to plan for our future, and the past sometimes does continue to affect us.  Would it be healthy to only be where my feet are, all the time?  I spend a lot of time listening to adventure rider radio, hearing people who let go of everything, and just ride, for a period of time.  My hubby and I have done this, but only for a couple weeks at a time, so by the time we really let go, it's almost time to start thinking about coming back.  It sounds like some people eventually can live the reality of being where their feet are, day in and day out.  "I'm out of money, I'll stay here until I get some, and then move on."  Others realize as their finances dwindle or checkboxes are marked from their goal list, they are drawing closer and closer to the end of an adventure, a way of living, their current life.  They must contemplate what is next for them.

How can you know what is right for you, when you have only lived one way?  Planning for the next goal, the next dream, the next adventure?  So much of my life was spent thinking about my future.  Motorcycling gives me a reprieve; just be where my feet are.  Counseling does the same thing; it is a rare moment that in a counseling session my mind will wander; I am usually 100% focused, both on the detail of what I am being told, holding the memories of stories from the past, holding the goals the person has stated for their future, and holding the space to allow people to reweave their lives into a tapestry they can love.  In grad school, I had a teacher that told us we can get swept up in our clients story, but it is our job as therapists to be the one in the room with at least one toe on the ground.  That groundedness, that space, is something I give willingly and naturally to others.  But, with a life, house, bills, kids, dog, how can I just *be* right now?

This brings me to a common concept I work with clients on, that holds very true for me.  It is about intentionality and choice. Perhaps we can live a full and happy life by balancing the present with the future (and even the past) if we are intentional about where our thoughts are in the moment.  When I find myself ruminating about something that has happened, I remind myself that I am not being where my feet are, and that is ok.  That past has taught me something for who I am today.  When I am caught up daydreaming about our next adventure, I let myself know that too is ok.  I am choosing to use this time thinking about my future.  And, when I find that my lack of presence is affecting my relationships or wellbeing, I can remind myself to bring my attention to my feet; because that is the foundation for the rest of me, in this present moment.

Perhaps my future will include more days where I am simply existing where my feet are, because I am less tied to things that pull my attention into the future.  Perhaps my future includes extended motorcycle travel, in which I wake up, throw a leg over the bike, and say "I wonder where my feet will take me today?"  In which I will stay present, explore side roads, smell flowers, eat local food, talk to local people, and let them tell me the best direction to point my feet.  But meanwhile, I will enjoy the stories of others living that life, and appreciate where my feet are today, snuggled up under a soft and adoring puppy.  With friends and family and chores and work that I adore completely.  And daydreams of places far and near that I wish to explore.

Choose to be where your feet are, or not.  But choose.

Adventure girls need downtime too, even when they don't want it...

A couple days ago, I got up like everything was normal, started getting dressed, and zow!  A muscle spasm in my back.  I'd never experienced anything like it. All the tools I teach my clients? Yeah right, breathe... Breathing freaking hurts! Stretching wasn't happening.  And I had to wake Nathan to reach the Advil, because my arms wouldn't move over my head.  Don't catastrophize?  Whatever.

Luckily advil and ice calmed the spasm, and I was able to start implementing the tools.  Don't catastrophize; this doesn't mean you are never riding your motorcycle again.  Slow deep breaths.  Stretch.  A little more.  And more.  Good.

I worked a short day, saw a chiropractor for the first time, and spent Friday on the couch, watching Gilmore Girls and blogging.  By Saturday, the pain was manageable, though my back was stiff.  I stretched and yoga-ed first thing in the morning, and headed to the Torque Wenches meeting.

What I discovered is that I suck at downtime.  Time alone I'm good at.  Put me on a bike in a helmet alone for hours, and I'm happy.  Put me in the woods, actually, with little to do, and I'm happy.  Put me on a couch for 10 hours, and I go STIR CRAZY.

People plan this stuff...."I'm going to do laundry and binge watch TV tomorrow."  Thank goodness I hadn't blogged our ride yet, or I'd have been out of my mind.  Reading wasn't the best option, because holding a book or phone was challenging for my sore upper back.  Though now that I think about it, I can read on my laptop with kindle.  Noting that for the next time I'm forced to take downtime.

So much of life is about Balance.  The night before this happened, I was busy planning every minute of the weekend 15 different ways to run by Nathan to see what he thought.  Perhaps the muscle spasm is a sign that I need to slow down a bit.  Stop falling off my motorcycles.  Stop planning every minute.

The other good part was that I got to hang out with Moto.

She just can't stop being cute.  

I'm not sure exactly what life is trying to teach me right now.  Perhaps I'm too stubborn to hear the lesson, but somewhere out there, I think there's a message... Next weekend Orygun Run, the weekend after California, the weekend after Camping.... Maybe I needed a quiet weekend and wasn't giving myself the time.  It's hard, when the weather is so ideal and the bike is calling my name.  

It has made me realize how far outside of my routine I have gotten since coming back from Utah.  No yoga, very little home training.  I set my alarm for 4:35 for Monday; I was going to go sooner, but the chiropractor recommended waiting a bit.  Yoga will start again.  I also was able to practice my yoga poses at home, at a slow and gentle pace.  

I am on the mend, but I think the lesson that always needs to be relearned is balance.  I cannot do to my body the things I do if I am unwilling to participate in daily training.  And I also need to look at the possibility that I am overscheduling myself. Being mindful of these two things, I will stretch and ride and move forward, until the next ailment lands me on the couch... hopefully with good balance, that will be postponed for a while.

my inferiority complex and how it gets me into trouble...

Since I have been riding, I have been a bit... cautious.  Some might call it slow (heck, if I was to ride with previous versions of me, I'd call it slow).  And with this, I started to think of myself as slow.  And I fought against this.... I wanted to think of myself as learning, cautious, riding my own ride, riding in my skill set.... all of these were true, but I still internalized the idea that I was slow, and I had a negative connotation with it.

On our most recent trip, I got to take my xt 225.  It's a long story as to why, but the awesome part is that it is a little, light bike that is MAGNIFICENT off road! However, for someone who has an inferiority complex around speed, riding 4000 miles (only 1000 off road) on a 225, with someone riding a 650, was.... triggering.

The first time this got me into trouble was on a freeway in Nevada.

Oh yeah, disclaimer, if you worry about my safety, do not read this blog post.  Yes, this means you, Mom. ;-)

In Nevada, the freeway speed limits were 80/85 I believe.  Faster than the xt was capable of going.  But, there were these huge uphills... followed by these LONG downhills.  On a downhill, the bike was going faster, and faster, and faster... I think we got up over 80.... and then it started to wobble.   My normal strategy to correct a wobble is to roll off the gas, and then back on.  This seems to transfer the weight and control back to the rear tire and straightens the bike right up.  Well, on this very long downhill, the bike was going faster than the engine, so rolling off the throttle did nothing.  In a speed wobble, the brakes will land you on the ground pretty quick (again, by my understanding) so the only option is to breathe, and ride it out.... Usually, a wobble is about 10 seconds long.... This one was at least 30.  30 of the LONGEST seconds of my life.  And probably Nathan's, as he watched from behind, slowing down so he wouldn't be riding over me if I hit the ground. (my interpretation.)  After an eternity, the bike stopped wobbling, I slowed down, took the next exit into a gas station, and then let the feelings come.  Lesson learned... never ride faster than the engine can propel me.  Got it.  Speed demon in check.  For the moment....

Then, outside of Bryce Canyon, we were riding easy off road.  SUPER fun.  Nathan was riding at a relaxed rate on a KLR, so I was, on my little light bike, actually almost keeping up with him, sometimes.  (You can tell what a big deal this is to me.)  I came around a corner, and there was a beautiful view.  I stopped, and snapped a quick picture.  Then I remembered about keeping up with Nathan, and got back on the gas. I was cruising along, looking toward my next corner, paying no attention to the tree shadow I was entering... which unfortunately had some substantial windfall on the ground.  WHAM!  20 miles an hour upright to zero miles an hour on my right side. Everything hurt.  I tried reaching Nathan, then tried honking my horn, but he was too far away.  I knew if I waited he'd come back, but.... Well, I'm a little stubborn.  My entire right side aching, I hauled my bike up and climbed back on.  Apparently intact, I (much more slowly) made my way down the hill.  I was still determined to make it to the part of the ride we'd set out for, and we did, but it was a slower, more painful journey than if I'd just been a little more... me.  Careful, cautious, skilled.

My last moment, the moment that led to big changes in my motorcycle life, was on a hilly road in Idaho.  Nathan passed a semi.  I wanted to pass the semi.  I waited until it was clear, and entered the lane of oncoming traffic.  It was downhill... The semi picked up speed.  I picked up speed.  I was wide open throttle, past the midpoint of the semi, when I realized the truck I'd seen way off in the distance was WAY bigger than a small speck in the distance.  As a matter of fact, it was becoming quickly clear that I was not going to get in front of the semi before the truck was going to need the lane I was in.  The semi was not slowing down, but I was only gaining on it in inches.... I was about to the cab when I moved onto the yellow dotted line down the middle of the road.  Still wide open throttle, I held by breath as the truck flew past me going the other direction.  I was still inching forward, and the semi must have tapped the brakes, because I was FINALLY able to get in front of the truck.

Overcoming my fears and anxieties has led to a decrease in my caution.  I'm by no means reckless; this decrease in anxiety, and even caution, has actually been incredibly helpful in multiple situations.  Actually, even though it led to all of the situations above, my ability to manage this motorcycle anxiety also helped me to cope with these situations as they were happening.  Except for the off road one... That one was way too quick to manage anything.  But in both the street situations, I got myself in over my head trying to keep up/go faster/ not be the slow one anymore.... And once I was in over my head, even though everything was going wrong, I was mentally calm and centered. I believe this in the moment calm kept me from doing things that would have made either of these situation worse... Especially hitting the brakes, which has always been my instinct.

So... where was I going with this.  I guess the knowledge that my inferiority complex is pushing me to take risks that I ought not can lead to some better choices.  And, the good news in all of this is that while I LOVE the xt.... we came home and the very next day, bought a faster bike.  Now, I am not pushing my bike to it's very limit, it can go faster than my brain can, so I'm safe again!

a funny thing happened...

In the last couple week, something happened.  I can pinpoint the exact ride when I realized it, even though it's been a journey, not a destination.  Two weeks ago, when I was be bopping around Portland, I realized that I had gotten bored with being scared.  For months, since I had gotten the BMW, every time I took it off road, or looked at a narrow u-turn on the street, I could feel the pit in my stomach, my hands would shake, and I'd get fuzzy in the brain.... somewhere between mild panic and terror.  But, that day, I was on my own. I ended up in some awkward needing to turn around situations (ie, I must get a picture of my bike in front of that awesome brick wall, or oops I turned down a dead end road.)  I followed street signs that indicated worse and worse roads in Portland, and rode through rutted mud.  I didn't turn on my GPS to find my way, but instead explored based on whichever way struck my fancy.  And, I realized that spot in my stomach where the fear started was hollow.  I had the urge to drive up on a sidewalk and take a picture, so I did.  Then I realized I was on my own and in a predicament, so I just had to get down off that sidewalk, no other choice.

I came home wanting to write about it, but (ironically) was scared that the fear wasn't really gone.  So I waited.  Did some more riding, playing, challenging myself.  We took our bikes to Millican Valley last weekend, with the intention of getting me some off road practice (without pouring rain was the perk to driving that far.)  Nathan fully expected to spend the weekend on gravel roads.  We did ride gravel roads.  It was so much fun!  Way more fun than riding while managing a pit of anxiety in my stomach and shaking hands.  We found a large hill.  No problem.  We found a puddle... Ok, that didn't go so smoothly, but at least it was a soft mud landing. We did the same gravel road over and over, my confidence building each time.  We did that gravel road at night!  That was a feat... I can't see well at night, but my awesome headlight kept me on track.

The next day we started on gravel roads, but I was up for the next challenge.  How about green trails?  So we were of.  The trails out there are sandy dirt, firmed up by the moisture, with gentle, wide bermed turns.  We did that, and at each intersection, Nathan would check in with the group.  We all wanted to keep going, so we did.  The trail, though still rated a green, took a turn for the more extreme... a patch of rocks to pick my way through, a larger patch of larger rocks to pick my way through... Slightly deeper sand.  It was fascinating... Evidently, the boredom with being scared stuck, but there were some well rehearsed pathways in my brain doubting my ability.  I stopped, decided that my only option was to actually ride it, and then I picked a speed, picked a line, and found my way through more complex rocky sections.  The sand tried taking me out, but a slip of the clutch and a roll of the throttle kept me going.  Even the major rocky section Nathan stopped to warn me about was not a problem... steady speed, lean back, ignore the fact that it sounded like the rocks were trying to remove my skidplate, and go!   Fist pump and a F*** yeah as after that one.

I can't say for sure the fear is gone, but it's at least on an extended vacation.  Meanwhile, I'm building positive experiences and seat time.

After this weekend, on a seemingly unrelated note, I had some time in my expressive arts therapy group to do some creating on the theme peace, love, and serenity.

My art is simply self expression; I love sending it to Nathan, just to share.  He texted back "they both have holes."  Hm.... very much how I felt when I had been looking for that unfamiliar pit of anxiety over the last couple weeks.  Like everything around it is there, where it is supposed to be, but something is missing.  How funny the subconscious can be....

Deeper reflection...

Sometimes, it seems people are apprehensive about hanging out with a therapist. Sometimes, I wonder if anyone really knows what I do.  I also find that people wonder what the outside perspective of a therapist can bring to the table. Today, I was struck with a parallel I just had to write about.

In reading responses to yesterday's blog, my hubby came up with a theory:

Nathan Fant If I were to guess, you probably got going too slowly and the back tire slid down the camber of the turn. In order for momentum to overcome the tiny amount of friction available to keep your wheels in line you have to go fast enough for friction to overcome the pull of gravity. In this case, gravity pulled your back tire downhill more than the front due to the differences in friction between the two tires.

Nathan Fant To summarize, if you don't remember hitting the brakes, you probably didn't. It's more likely you were going slow enough for the back tire to lose grip on the ice and cause the front and rear tires to be rapidly out of alignment. More practice sliding the back tire and steering into the skid as well as looking down the trail/road and going a little faster are needed.What it brings to mind is the difference, for me, between self help and therapy. I don't hold that one is better than the other, just that the process can be quite different.

Using this for my example, I have read a lot about riding a motorcycle. And taken classes. And watched videos. I watch and analyze good riding, hoping to increase my skills, and sometimes I analyze crashes, to figure out what went wrong. Most of this falls into the 'self help' category. Incredibly useful for my growth.

But in this process, I am only working within the limits of my learning. This is where a trained and somewhat objective observer can be helpful. In this scenario, it was my husband, but in therapy, it's the therapist who is outside of the situation, offering a fresh perspective to help you grow.

(The example below is entirely fictional.) 

In self help, a person may discover that as a middle child, they often tried to keep peace in the family. Post holidays, this adult child may come into therapy, disappointed in how their holiday unfolded; despite their best efforts, they couldn't get everyone together at the same time, and their older and younger sister ended up angry at each other. This well informed person may have examined their peace keeping patterns, and drawn the conclusion that this pattern again inflicted their holiday happiness. This person may gloss over the details in therapy, wanting to get to the heart of the issue 'how do I stop trying to make everyone happy, and enjoy my holiday?' This is the logical conclusion... The lasting discontent could very well be frusturation at recognizing this long standing pattern. Yet the therapist is curious; this discontent doesn't have the same flavor they have explored in the past. What else is going on? When did the discontent start? As the client talks, they hold their stomach. The therapist asks them to stop, breathe, and focus mindfully on what is going on in the clients body. The client bursts into tears. She and her husband had been trying to have a baby, and in the middle of all of the holiday prep, found out their recent try was unsuccessful. They chose not to tell the family, and barely had time to comfort each other in the hub bub. Once the tears have subsided the therapist can reflect the situation back to the client. The client can clarify and make sure they are seeing the situation in the same way, perhaps probing other details coming to play in the bigger feelings. Once shared, the therapist may ask the client the underlying need, how she can ask her partner or family for something different, or how she'd like to continue to process her grief. There's no one way to proceed, it's the process of building the shared experience that provides the guidance.

Self help and self teaching can be wonderful tools, but sometimes an outside perspective can provide a different lens. With that different lens, a deeper knowledge of self can be reached, and perhaps new behaviors are chosen.

In reading my husband's response to my blog, I was struck by the usefulness of the perspective of the person not on the motorcycle. I often get hung up on the fact that I want my felt experience to be understood, and in his comments he showed me that he heard me; and offered a fresh lens to view my experience through, hopefully leading to a productive new behavior in the future. Not only is he my partner, best friend, co parent, and  mechanic, he's also my Moto-therapist.  ;-)

Good night everybody... Another blog post is already percolating...

making the unconscious conscious, and other lessons....

Yesterday, we set out to explore some gravel roads we'd heard about from our friend.  We were accompanied by said friend and his partner, and started the day with a warm breakfast and lots of laughter.  Which has nothing to do with the point of this blog, but set the tone for the day.  We set out on familiar roads, becoming more and more rural as we headed toward skyline blvd.  As we rose in elevation, there were little bits of snow sparkling in the grass by the road.  Pretty.  As we continued to ride, the little bits of snow turned into reasonable piles of snow, especially for Oregon.  We continued, the roads were mostly dry from the past few days of cold sun and local traffic. We finally arrived at our first gravel road.  I had a bit of trepidation; I've encountered bits of ice on the road before, and instinctively stood up, let the bike do it's thing, didn't touch the gas or the breaks, and planned my next move while in motion.  I've also had some challenges getting used to the BMW as an off road motorcycle, though each trip seems to be getting progressively better.  The first times I off roaded it, I would get so nervous my hands would shake.  The last time was quite successful, so I wasn't nervous going into this ride, but aware that those feelings have been around in the past.  The gravel road was 75% clear, 25% patches of ice.  Interesting, still no anxiety or fear.  Ok, let's do this.  I said out loud, No Front Brake.  I've gotten into trouble jamming on the front brake too hard in the past.  I know how to ride, but sometimes my feelings get in the way of my knowledge.  If I remind myself, it puts into my conscious awareness the correct way to off road.  We went down that road until it ended, and turned around.  So far so good!  We stopped on the way back to play in the snow and take pictures.  Lots of fun!  We decided to continue to head to another gravel road.  Challenge level rose... More shade, more curves, more ice.  But, at the end of this gravel road, a jeep trail beckoned, so down we went.  It was actually a lot of fun.  Some nervous moments, but really, it was becoming just plain fun. In the back of my mind, as we went up the curves, I remember thinking "eventually, we may have to come down this" but hope lingered that we'd just continue on and not have to come back. Denial is my friend. We made it to the jeep trail, and Nathan did some scouting... The Jeep trail was quite slick, so we decided to turn around.  Coming back, things got interesting.  The corner where the thought occurred to me on the way up approached; We all stopped.  Nathan offered to ride my bike, but my stubborn streak reared its head.  I watched Nathan do it, I watched Tim do it with a passenger,  I could do it too, darn it.  I started out... so far so good; barely at the balance point, but I didn't have to worry about the bike getting slower going down hill on ice, I just needed to let it coast.  Suddenly, without even thinking about it, I had picked up a small amount of speed.  I don't remember doing it, but I must have just tapped my rear brake.  The rear tire, which had been so nicely in line with the front tire, started to slide downhill, and the bike started to tip.  This seemed to be happening in slow motion... there was a bit of screaming happening (that was me) and in the intercom Daphnie says "Kris is down" and hops off the back of Tim's bike. I let everyone know I'm fine, and consider trying to pick my bike up, but I can't even stand to the side of my bike, the hill is so slippery.  Nathan got it up, and coasted it downhill for me.  I watched him, and knew that was what I'd meant to do!  We discovered a bent shift level, an easy fix.  We met a fellow adventure rider, who said the road on the other side of the mountain was in better shape, so we rode that road too, before heading back to pavement for lunch.

The lesson here is a new flavor for an old dish; I've now had a muscle memory experience of what it's like to hit the rear brakes unconsciously. It ended up being an injury free and low cost learning experience.  Because so much of personal growth depends on making the unconscious conscious.  I have a colleague and friend who used to say "I don't think we ever get rid of our 'stuff'', we just get better at dealing with it.'  I think that's true; motorsports may never come as naturally to me as some of my other skills, but as long as I continue to be willing to delve into my unconscious fears and automatic reactions, my progress continues. And my progress is very important to me.  I fantasize about riding in an undeveloped country with minimal developed roads, or doing a backroads discovery tour.  I am committed to my learning and building my skills.

The other awesome take away from yesterday is that I'm starting to have fun on my adventure bike.  With each ride, I conquer something new; it's not the terrain or the bike that is the problem, it is the internal questions about my own capabilities.  With more experience is coming more confidence, and the inner doubts are quieting.  The more success I have, the more I want to do.  And the more I want to do, the more opportunity will manifest.  I'm delighted to be having more fun.  And, I'm also delighted to be have this opportunity for personal growth; I've never had anything challenge me as much as motorcycles, but I've also never done anything that has really developed my present moment awareness, tapped into my sense of adventure, and given me the deep pleasure and passion that motorcycling has given me.