5 Years after The Pandemic - the Beauty of Exploring

The Trek Marlin 7 continues to provide comfortable meandering on nearby wooded trails. It's a perfect vehicle
for discovering flowers.

Since 2020, I've learned to take nothing for granted, a feeling that still resonates: not our health, our 2020 move to a beautiful location, the ability to travel, or the natural world that continues to provide peace and connection. I have so much to be thankful for. 

Riding with my adventure buddy on the Colchester Causeway; our home and backyard view.

I love to travel by bike, whether driving to ride rail trails or carrying gear for multiday excursions. 

Brewery in North Hampton, NH. Tacos at a food truck in Fort Collins. Real maple creemees only 3 miles from home.

Stops for food and beer are destinations themselves.

Visiting our son in Fort Collins, Colorado, and riding Soapstone Prairie's trails. Riding Pine Creek Trail with my husband in Pennsylvania.

Riding with family is always an opportunity to connect and explore.

After work or on weekends, rides rejuvenate me, whether pedaling along Lake Champlain during daylight or at sunset, even year-round. I frequently visit an icefall to watch its spring-fed metamorphosis. We discovered a local sugar house this spring!

Amtrak fuels adventure opportunities. Take the train to a new locale or use the service one-way and pedal back.

When our axis shifts and world events spiral faster than seems possible, I try not to feel hopeless. In some respects, we've been here before, 5 years ago. Instead, I remind myself, how truly lucky I am.

Simplifying, Eliminating Negativity, and Riding the Dahon

Lately, the Dahon Boardwalk has become my main ride as we're experiencing more spring-like weather. The small-wheeled wonder is just plain easy to ride, easy to maintain, and perfect for 90% of the flattish miles I'm currently riding after work and on weekends. Until I commute daily to the office and back, requiring more luggage capacity, I'm thankful every day that I bought this spritely folder.

I'm so happy that March has brought the sun! It may be chilly - except for the current 60s F stretch - but the blessed sunshine and geese honking overhead are signs of Spring. With a newly built home, we're starting fresh with landscaping. But for the first spring in a long time I don't feel tied to the land. A few bulbs will emerge, that I put in the ground last year. That's enough for now. I may plant a small rhododendron - I love rhoddies - but I feel liberated from trying to maintain a weed-free garden plot.

A year into the pandemic has taught me what's important. 

• Family is number one. And..there's nothing like difficulties to illuminate siblings who are willing to help and those who run the other way.
• Lean on friends for support. Social distancing means we can't hug, but the main thread of friendship carries on. 
• Being outside, every day, is necessary for mental and physical health. 
• This is the time to purge negativity: delete blog links, news items, eradicate books, and other sources that are not positive influences in my life. I keep up with daily headlines, but that's about all I can endure. 
• I cannot be the person who saves the world, so-to-speak. I lack boundless energy like some friends/acquaintances. My mental health rests on helping my family and close friends, interspersed with restful, quiet moments, and of course, a bike ride to clear the mind.
• Regular yoga sessions have helped improve my physical presence. There's no stopping me now!

Compared with how I felt last April, it has taken quite a while to live day to day long-term, being a traveler at heart, but somehow over the course of a year I have arrived in a contented state of mind - some of that has to do with finding employment in the bicycle industry (more on that to come!). Pre-pandemic, I had equated stagnation with non-learning. If I wasn't planning a yearly vacation, or two - I wasn't visiting new places, experiencing different cultures, trails, etc. - I felt like I wasn't growing as a person. I miss traveling, for sure, but it's not integral to my happiness. I can evolve in other ways. like pouring my energy into creative pursuits, whether that's designing a deck, constructing bike bags, sewing mittens, etc. I recently had someone build a shoe bench, that I stained, and I'm currently in the process of creating a top cushion. 

Thrown into upheaval against our will and not by choice, certainly had it's drawbacks, of course. But progress can also be defined by finding the root of happiness. And, even though there is hope on the horizon, I'm refraining from planning a 2021 vacation.

What's one thing that you've learned over the past year?

Motivation During a Dark Season

 

I much prefer moving under my own power. With the experienced I've gained the past five years from winter bike commuting, I have the courage in a 2020 jobless pandemic to continue cycling as the days shorten. It helps to have an objective, of course, otherwise pedaling in 25 degree weather just for exercise is hardly a reason to bundle up, when a long walk or hike would suffice. In another time, I could visualize riding into Burlington to hang out at coffee shops (we moved to suburbia in 2020), but in another time I would've been employed, bike commuting, visiting coffee shops only on weekends during the Coffeeneuring Challenge. So, in this upside down world it still makes sense to ride - for mental and physical equanimity - motivated by errands. I have also embraced night riding again to avoid a crowded waterfront path, but dropping temperatures should soon deter less hardy riders and walkers. 

I'm thankful that between mountain biking on nearby trails and embracing night riding, I have the psychological and physical tools to get through this crazy time.

If you need encouragement, check out the Midnite Bicycle League Challenge.

How is everyone doing as the cold, wind, and darkness descends? Any tips to help other riders continue cycling?

Getting a Grip on Life Challenges - Establishing a Fluid Routine

This time is weird for everyone and I feel especially lucky.

After a major family move that had been in the works since last autumn, we transitioned a month ago - indeed our new house construction was only 6 weeks behind schedule due to Vermont's entire industry shutting down for a period. A strong seller's real estate market bounced back after a minor hiccup so our other home worries will soon be a memory.

Like many others, I've been out of work for months without any indication I will be returning anytime soon. My husband, whose goal was to retire this past June, has continued working, so I'm thankful and sad because it may be sometime before I'm employed again and carry our family benefits. Fortunately, I'm also preoccupied with new and old house tasks, have sewn numerous pillow and cushion covers, altered shower curtains, and continually help my mother's household. Our governor has handled this pandemic with aplomb, conducting 3 per week press conferences to keep the public informed - all with a calm presence. I'm very thankful we live in a small state with wonderful leadership.

Our adult children continue to live with us: a recent high school graduate and a senior at a local college. The eldest son has found online part-time work while assured he will have a mix of online/in-person classes next semester. The other son is recovering from a broken wrist,  wasn't planning on higher education, so he's trying to figure out what comes next. We had to postpone a trip to Colorado where he planned on attending bike mechanic school. At least he's able to connect with friends and get outside.

Living one day at a time has not come easy. I've learned to also care for my mental health - an important topic in the news recently - by going on almost daily bike rides. Some rides encompass errands; some include bringing a picnic lunch. I ride with my husband occasionally, and have also taken up swimming in the lake again. 

Cycling for me, like for many of my readers, is an emotional outlet. Time to reflect and sort through difficult decisions. I believe the simple yet powerful motion of turning one pedal at a time will pull me through this difficult time.