Recently my husband and I took a fast trip to Abingdon, Virginia to kick around, enjoy some theatre, and ride a portion of the Virginia Creeper trail. We were supposed to go on our obligatory Halloween/Anniversary weekend ghost tour too, but that got sidelined for a long list of boring reasons.
Anyway, I was pretty pumped about the Creeper trail excursion. If you’ve read my book, you know about me and my love/hate/empowerment/discouragement relationship with riding a bike. My road bike, Flo, and I continue to have our adventures, although I haven’t done nearly as much riding as I’d like since OBSG was published. Since this particular picturesque rail-to-trail isn’t paved, Flo stayed home, and we arranged to rent bikes for the ride.
At said bike-renting spot, I was given a choice between a mountain bike and what the world-weary, appropriately unkempt proprietor described as a “comfort” bike.
Hmmm. Something in me perked up at the idea of a comfort bike. It sounded…smooth, easy, uncomplicated. Truth be told, I still, to this day, get the jitters when I ride in unfamiliar territory (and ok, yes, sometimes even when I’m in my own neighborhood). I can still manage to fall on a bike while completely stationary – or before I even hop on. This comfort idea was most intriguing. Why make things harder? Decision made.
He ushered me over to a plain, gray, somewhat unloved-looking bike known only as “S2”. She seemed like she could stand to make a new friend, and so as soon as we adjusted her large, super-padded seat, we were paired for the trip.
Not actually S2 – as you will learn, I wasn’t in the mood to take pictures.
Comfort and I also have a complicated relationship. It seems like whenever I tell myself I can relax and take the easier route with something, nothing goes as planned. The year I opted to make reservations for Thanksgiving dinner instead of cooking, they started closing down the restaurant 10 minutes after we arrived (and there was no turkey left).
The horse I chose for my first-ever ride (“Don’t worry, hon, this is Brownie, the gentlest one of the bunch!”) decided that jumping every rock, ditch, and log we encountered would be a cool thing to do. By the time “gentle” ol’ Brownie and I got back to the barn, I felt like every bone in my body had been removed, tossed around in a burlap sack, and reassembled backward.
Then there was the time I was the 1 in 20,000 mother-to-be for whom an epidural did not work. Enough said there. The comfortable choice seems to be something I live to regret.
And so it was on this ride. S2, bless her little gray heart, was anything BUT comfy. The length of trail we rode was all downhill, but that gigantic padded seat was also a slippery padded seat. Like oil on ice slippery. I kept sliding forward and hitching myself back and pedaling just to be able to stay on. The handlebars and brakes appeared to be made for someone with Sasquatch-sized hands (I can barely reach an octave on the piano). It was next to impossible to get the gears shifted; the numbers so long faded from the mechanism that I had no clue what was higher or lower.
The trees were beautiful, the river gorgeous, and the weather perfect, but I was a sore, stressed-out mess by the end. Why oh why didn’t I go with a mountain bike (since we were, after all, riding down a freaking mountain)?
OK, we did get a few photos.
Comfort and ease are tempting states of being, aren’t they?
How often do I encounter someone who wants to take a seemingly more comfortable way with reaching their goals or managing their challenges?
- “I just need you to give me all of your time management tricks and tips, so I can quit being late to everything.”
- “Let’s skip that spot over there in the corner (i.e., the spot that used to resemble a desk) and sort these chess pieces. Or maybe just have a cup of tea?”
- “I’ll just bag all this stuff up for now, stash it in the closet, and deal with it later – we don’t need to waste time with it today.”
- “Look! I found this article on 10 Super Easy Ways to Get Organized! I don’t think we need to schedule any more sessions.”
You might be entranced with cutting corners to get something dealt with faster, avoid the discomfort of digging into the challenge, or make decisions. But in that process, you may be working with the wrong tool, overlooking an important step, or buying into someone else’s method – which may or may not fit your particular situation. Famous last words: “All I have to do is…”
It’s almost like a weird shade of procrastination – trading in the immediate comfort and relief for later distress and confusion. Or worse. That bag of stuff in the closet that seemed so easy to stash at the time will inevitably come back to bite you…like when you forget that your computer charger or the key to your storage unit happens to be in it.
So rather than being taken for a ride with promises of ease, what if you took a moment to consider a different way? Maybe, a way that seems like the rougher trip, the adventure you didn’t ask for, the road less traveled? Uncomfortable does not have to mean impossible. It often yields the stronger result.
When have you gone for what seemed like the most comfortable solution or choice? What happened?
Forgive me but I laughed out loud at some of your pain. I know and relate totally to your experience. I am one who loves to have everything planned out ahead of time. I plan. God laughs. On my vision board I even have the saying – Plan to go off the plan.
Thanks for sharing.
Laughter is most welcome here! I think my bigger challenge is when I go off the plan I know is probably best, in service to taking that easier way out. Following my intuition, even when I don’t like it, is always my best move. Thanks for commenting, Jonda!
When working with clients, I found clients, saying I will place this here “for now.” The “For Now” item will be left in the area when I would return on the next visit and usually the visit after that.
However, I do find that as I get older, I want to do it more simply and streamlined instead of what my mind or others say I should do. I relate to your bike experience. My husband and I often ride on trails. As we age, listening to my body has become paramount when I ride. On Saturday, we went on a bike ride. It was a beautiful day, but I had shoulder issues earlier in the week. So, instead of riding on the gravel trail near our home, we drove about 15 minutes to a nearby town and road on the paved trail toward the city – a total of 15 miles. Those modifications allowed me to ride longer and faster with little pain. While we had the ride planned, I like to allow for flexibility in the plans.
I’m glad you are encouraging laughter here, as you did with Jonda. You also made me laugh as you described outcomes from some of the “comfy” decisions you’ve made.
It makes me think that at times, we aren’t ready to weigh the choice fully. Meaning, we want to make the choice, aren’t necessarily equipped or ready to suss out the full implications of that option. Something sounds good at the quick glance and then, well…something unexpected and undesirable happens as a result.
For me, I’m thinking more along financial lines. When faced with a choice, often there is a decision I’d make if money weren’t part of the equation. And then there is another choice which factors in time implications and the financial piece.
I remember in the early years of my marriage, Steve and I noticed how differently our families (his folks or mine) made their decisions. Steve’s family always chose the route that was least financially costly. It was never the easiest and involved elaborate plans and help from various family members. They didn’t have the resources to choose solely based on what was most convenient.
My parents looked at what made the most sense from a time perspective, and often ignored the financial piece. They had the ability to do that, which not everyone does.
From observing all of them, I tend to look at all of those variables when making certain choices. What will the time implication be? What will this choice cost? If time and money weren’t factors, what would my ideal choice be? And, if those are an issue, what would my best (given the parameters) choice be?
No right or wrong. Sometimes the easiest choice is the best one. And at other times, as you so beautifully described, it’s not. But the best part is we get to learn from all the choices we make- the good, bad, and disastrous.
Oh, I have to admit that personal comfort is a big motivator to me. I always want to choose what is comfortable/warm/safe/familiar. I love my comfort zone!
At the same time, some of the greatest accomplishments of my life have happened far away from that cozy spot. You’d think that I would look at that, learn from it, and be more adventuresome. Somehow, it doesn’t seem to happen.
This is a great little story to remind us of the fact that comfort can actually be uncomfortable in the long run. So great!
Somewhere between comfortable and impossible is the reasonable challenge, the stretch that brings satisfaction. You are absolutely right in all of your points, and you were freaking hilarious in your descriptions on everything from Brownie to the comfort bike. (But oh, your poor mommy-to-be experience!)
I’m a fan of the comfort zone, though in retrospect I know when to recognize that I should have zigged or zagged instead of taking the easy (lazy, ignoring-the-problem) way. But you are correct in ever statement you’ve made, and your description of the way clients approach this is spot-on.
I love that you are sharing all the ways that you intentionally sought “comfort” but an oops happened. You are on to something that we likely seek ease and comfort for ourselves. This post gives me thoughts about the easy and challenging decision-making paths. That is something to add to my decision-making as I usually work from purpose and meaning first.
Purpose and meaning are absolutely key – I have to keep those things in mind too! Thanks for stopping by and for the thoughtful comment, Ellen.