#7 - Managing Expectations
I started the day with to a phone call from an old friend. The conversation led to me citing a podcast I had recently listened to with Christine Hassler the author of EXPECTATION HANGOVER .. after I got off the phone I decided that a repeat of the podcast would be good company for a ride, I didn't know how relevant it would end up being .
It was cold and cloudy morning. The thought of the ride on the lake a few days before still fresh in my mind, Django and I lit out towards the hills. Half way there we stopped to feed some old carrots to the four legged creatures that pockets full of apples have turned into friends.. or at least they seem to know my bike and have come to expect a treat when they see me.
A photo posted by Michael Miller (@mikebikes) on Jan 7, 2015 at 11:19am PST
Like life, I was coasting along, not really paying attention, when I hit the start of the single track , the truth revealed itself .. a super slick glaze of ice covered everything, and the expectation of a blast over the rolling snowpacked trails of the previous day, would not be possible. In fact it was a struggle that I lost more than once , just to keep the bike upright and moving forward .. at one point on a hill to slick to ride, jumping off to hike it , I found myself and my bike sliding backwards down the hill . We struggled along the top trail , not bothering to drop into PINE RIDGE, instead opting to take the trail that lead back by the dog park along the south side of the park. Here I found more expectations to manage. Hitting the cement path again a false sense of security , lured me into its trap . picking up speed one second upright , the next not, sliding for what seem like forever in a tangle of bike, dog , and (unknown to me) contents of exploded pockets. Barely coming to a stop before springing back up, to find that what appeared to be a light dusting of packed snow on the otherwise perfectly plowed trail, was (obviously) the slickest layer of ice ever put down, and I had been riding on it for the last 30 mins .. wondering how I had made it so far with out eating it, gingerly getting going again , steering towards anything that looked like it might add traction, plodding along, carefully. Somewhere around most of the way home, a sound poked through the podcast and the overwhelming feeling that something had fallen from my pocket, that I actually stopped and looked. Nothing ... but the investigation led to the discovery that my keys were no longer in my pocket. A few moments of wondering if they had even been in my pocket, picturing them sitting on the garage floor or hanging stoically in the front door lock, all an attempt to avoid the inevitable turn around ride, backtracking to the multiple locations that they may have be knocked from my pocket - hoping that it was the site of the last , closest wreck.
A photo posted by Michael Miller (@mikebikes) on Jan 11, 2015 at 12:24am PST
I don't know if ignorance is bliss , but the contrast of the start of the ride, oblivious to the treacherous layer of ice, coasting along carefree in anticipation of the single track ahead, and the second half of the ride, tensely tightening grip , cautiously expecting the wheels to go out from under any second, sure makes a strong case that the statement has more than a kernel of truth to it. Keys found, back towards home again, the expectation hangover dulling my senses.
