Missing Mother Nature

My wife, daughter and I are in northwestern Minnesota, staying with some wonderful friends. Today's plan was to head to Itasca State Park and do some biking. We could not have picked a better day! The sun was beautiful, the temperature stayed in a wonderful range, and the whole group had a fantastic time. Our friends have two boys, one a year older than our daughter and one a year younger. They all get along well, and today all of them held their own biking for close to six miles. Add to that the decent hills we all had to climb at times, and I admit that they impressed me. We made a great stop for lunch at Douglas Lodge, a beautiful historical site in the park. I HIGHLY recommend the Wild Rice Salad - it was delicious. We then biked the nearly six miles back, let the kids swim and even watch the children (and my wife) build a wonderful sand castle.

The entire day has served as a reminder to me that I need to get outside more. So often, I cut myself off from everything as a result of the narcolepsy. Fearing that I will push too hard or that I will wear myself out quickly, I avoid doing "extra" things. I LOVE hiking and biking through beautiful parks, yet I rarely do that any more. Certainly, some of that is the result of making other choices, which I often enjoy, but I do turn down plenty of chances simply because I am afraid. I definitely know that I don't like explaining how the narcolepsy tires me. I also dislike the feeling that I am a burden to others because I get so wiped out. Rather than risk those things, I often look for ways to back out (or simply decline the invitation in the first place).

In fact, I almost did it today. Some small part of me wanted to just stay at our friends' home while everyone else went biking. Fortunately, that voice was tiny. What was not minuscule was the voice screaming at me when something went wrong with my bike upon our arrival at the park. The stem of my rear tire ripped out. Worse, it was likely my fault. My wife was trying to inflate the tire and I am positive I told her the wrong way to do it. Nonetheless, my entire rear tire was flat and beyond repair. My immediate reaction was to bail on the ride. I honestly told everyone to go. Our friends then let us know that there was a bike rental and repair place at the next stop on the park drive. I did convince everyone to get started and told them that I would deal with the tire and go from there.

Yes, part of me still wanted to scrap the whole thing, but I mustered my courage and drove to the bike place. It was even closer than they thought. I still felt horribly sheepish, because I needed help (yes, I know that is foolish, but I am who I am). As I turned to look for a parking spot, I noticed that everyone else was waiting at the bike shop. I was furious, mostly because I was already dealing with it, but also because I still didn't want to be a burden. I eventually found parking and figured they had headed out. As I carried my bike toward the shop, I saw my daughter and wife and nearly melted down. I figured they had decided to wait for me and sent our friends ahead. The pressure of the entire situation came close to consuming me.

My interaction with my wife was more than tense and all due to me. It turns out the husband, when he realized that the bike shop was so close, figured he could get back to fix the tire before I left the other lot. I tried to apologize to my wife, but we both needed time (I did approach her a few more times throughout the day and all is well). The husband soon returned from his jaunt to the other lot. While my ego and energy were in tatters, I did accept the help. He fixed it in a matter of minutes. Then, we all set off for our excellent day.

While I certainly wish that none of the problems had happened, I am also grateful that they did. I need to learn how to accept help. I need to let others do things for me. Beyond that, I must recognize that sending everyone else ahead without me is not being brave and thoughtful. It is being selfish and cowardly. My family and our friends would have been worried about me and certainly would have missed me the entire time. By letting our friend help me, I allowed this excellent day to happen. If I had been wise enough to do it immediately, my wife and I would not have need me to apologize repeatedly. I do hope that old dogs can learn new tricks because I honestly want to do that. The best thing in all of this is that I not only opened myself to help, I remained open to enjoying the day. Certainly, I am tired and the narcolepsy crept in a times during the ride and the lunch, but I would have deeply regreted missing this day.