Yesterday I was riding a few flowy back roads, and I realized something.
It didn't come to me at a stop sign or after I pulled over. It came in the middle of the ride, with the bike moving. That's where most of my best thinking happens, and it's the reason this column exists.
Here's what I realized. I would always move toward the next thing in life. Never enjoying the things I achieved. Only relief that I got something done, and then I'd get stressed out about getting the next thing done.
Instead of enjoying where I'm at in life.
That's the whole thought, and it's a simple one. But it stuck with me after I parked the bike, so I want to stay with it for a few minutes and write down what I've been chewing on since.
The loop
When I look at it plainly, it's a loop. Pick the next thing. Work toward it. Get it done. Feel relief, not because I enjoyed getting there, but because it's finally off my plate. Then the next thing shows up and the stress starts building all over again.
Get it done. Relief. Stress. Next.
Written out like that, it doesn't look like much fun. But from the inside it doesn't feel like a problem. It feels like being responsible. It feels like getting things done. There's always something that needs to happen, so there's always a good reason to keep your head down and keep going.
That's what makes it easy to miss. When you live in a loop long enough, you stop seeing it as a loop. It just looks like how life works.
Relief isn't the same as enjoying it
I think I had those two mixed up. Relief feels good, so it's easy to believe relief is the reward. But relief is really just the pressure letting off. It's the weight coming off your shoulders. It isn't the same as enjoying what you did.
Enjoying it would mean stopping long enough to look at it. Seeing what got done and letting it count. Letting a good thing be a good thing, instead of a box that got checked so the next box could get started.
For me, the only thought after finishing something was: good, that's done. And right behind it: okay, what's next. The thing I worked for never really landed. It just cleared space for the next thing to worry about.
And if every finish line only ever feels like relief, then the good parts of life go by as stress with short breaks in between. That's where the loop leads if you follow it all the way out.
The bike already does this right
Here's the funny part. On a good road, riding already works the way I'd want life to work.
On a flowy road, you're always looking ahead. You look through the corner to where you're going, because that's how you ride a road like that well. Your eyes are on the exit before you're halfway in, and the next bend is already lining up behind it.
But you're still in the corner. You feel the lean. You feel the tires hold and the bike settle. You roll on the throttle at the right moment and the bike stands up and carries you into the next one. You're looking at what's next and you're completely in what you're doing, both at the same time. That's the whole reason a road like that feels so good. One corner hands you off to the next, and you're there for every single one of them.
Off the bike, I only had half of that. I had the looking-ahead part down cold. I was always looking at the next corner. I just never felt the one I was in.
Why it took the bike moving
I don't think it's an accident that this came to me on the bike and not sitting at a desk.
When you're riding, you can't check your phone. You can't answer one more message or knock out one more task. The road wants all of you, right where you are. Your hands are busy, your eyes are busy, and somewhere in all of that your head finally gets quiet. That's when the real stuff floats up. Not the to-do list. The stuff underneath it.
Parked, I probably would have been planning the next thing. It took the bike moving for this one to get clear.
That's what this column is for. The best thoughts come from actually riding, not stopping. Sometimes it takes the bike moving for something to get 100% clear.
Where I'm at
So what would it actually look like to enjoy where I'm at?
I don't think the answer is to stop moving. Moving toward the next thing isn't the problem by itself. Never enjoying what I already did, that's the problem. The next thing had turned into the only thing, and being here didn't count for anything.
On a road, nobody rides with their eyes glued to the front tire. You'd run wide in the first corner. You keep your eyes up and you know where you're headed. But you also feel the corner you're in. You let it count.
Maybe enjoying where I'm at looks a lot like that. Keep my eyes up. Know where I'm going. But take a second at the end of something to look back at it, and let it be a good thing before I go chasing the next one.
I don't have this figured out. It was one ride and one thought. But it was a clear one, and I don't want to lose it, so I'm writing it down here.
If you ride, you probably know the feeling at the end of a really good road. You get to the stop sign and the first thing you want to do is turn around and run it again. Not because you're chasing something, but because you were there for every corner of it.
That's the feeling I want more of. On the bike and off it.
This one came to me with the bike moving. Most of the good ones do.