As a long-time runner I spent decades swearing I would never hop on a bike. More and more, however, the idea careening down technical mountain trails began to intrigue me and I finally picked up a cheap box-store mountain bike. I didn't take it on anything beyond a paved recreational path or flat gravel trail but that was enough to prove that the bike wasn't built for more than that. I spent some time on the trails determined to get my quads and backside used to riding. After about a year with that bike, I purchased a nicer used beginner bike which until three days ago, only saw the paved rec paths and flat gravel trails.

It occurred to me that in this journey toward the slightly terrifying downhill rides, I actually quite enjoy hopping on my bike for 10-20 miles on a given afternoon (often with my son). Recently, I even transitioned to riding paved and dirt backroads in the small quiet mountain town I grew up in. All of this led me to craving longer rides and letting go of the focus on learning technical mountain riding (though, I did finally make my first few attempts on the very first section of our local MTB trails - but only after running them to preview the terrain first). Yesterday, I completed my first long ride of 30 miles. It was mostly flat but with just a few rides per month, it presented enough challenge to start a little fire in my heart.

The first challenge was getting out there and doing something big alone. I am certainly no strange to flying solo, but there are times on the rail trail when it is a bit quiet for a section and if you have any sort of imagination it can get the best of you. I thought about my breath, I thought about what stories my mind was trying to tell me and whether they were credible (they were not). My thoughts shifted from dangers on the trails to my pace and whether or not I'd be home early enough to handle all of the responsibilities that were awaiting my return (things no one else expected me to do that day that would not expire, like organizing our food storage container cabinet and decluttering). I told myself I wouldn't be out here forever, even if I made extra stops and slowed down considerably. So I stopped to take some pictures and be present in my surroundings. I am a former professional wedding photographer, but my true love in photography has always been abstract landscapes, macro photography, and what I can only refer to as "mindful" photography.

Ok, well then, what IS mindful photography? It is a tool I use to be more present in my settings and really see beyond the big picture. I use photography as a way to connect and explore quietly, and without changing or adding. Quite simply, I document what is in front of me and change my perspective to change the scene. This fall I will be offering an in-person only mindful photography workshop where we will share in discussion what this concept is and how to use photography as a tool to appreciate even the simplest of adventures for exactly what they are. We will share in a gentle yoga practice and meditation followed by a small outdoor adventure to practice the art of mindful photography.

Low-key sales pitch aside, this practice of hopping off my bike allowed me to focus on the simple experience of the location and day without fussing about pace and distance. It reminded me to focus on my actions, not my outcome.

As I continued on with my ride I eventually found myself with the inevitable discomfort of burning quads. Particularly in the last five miles of the 30 mile adventure where there is an ever-so-slight but very real incline from Eagle Pond to the Danbury Country Store. During this time I once again had to dig into those highly useful meditation techniques mentioned above as well as the concept first introduced to me by one of my own yoga teachers, David Breen. That concept is simply that pain is inevitable, suffering is optional.

Before anyone comes at me for throwing out toxic positivity BS, let me break that down a bit. In this context, pain is the physical and mental anguish we feel due to injury/illness/grief/inner turmoil, etc... Suffering refers to our tendency to sink into those feelings, to cling to them with everything we have, and allow them to take over. David has his own blog that I encourage you to read here and this is often a topic which he writes about as a person living with terminal cancer.

As the fatigue set in and the cursing began I laughed, thinking of a story David recently shared with me. I laughed because I came out to have a fun adventure by myself - and it certainly was! I knew heading into this that just like any long run, I'd reach the point of pain, the point of real challenge. I could be miserable, or be grateful that even in this pain, I could continue to push myself and achieve what I set out to. I could have slowed down, I could have spent the last five miles stopping every mile or half mile and sitting in that perceived misery but instead, I chose to push harder. I reminded myself of all the times where things were difficult and I made it through, and reminded myself that the physical practice of yoga would be there for me when I finished.

My regular and continued physical practice is one tool that I believe has helped me remain injury free in all of my physical endeavors for decades. The physical practice of yoga is not "just stretching" it is a supportive practice that includes maintaining strength and becoming incredibly aware of what is happening in the body and where the body is in space (interception and proprioception are two things we take from our physical practice that help us in our everyday movement and in other physical endeavors). I have come across evidence that stretching "doesn't do anything" or that X type of practice is greater than Y, etc., etc....

While stretching might not be necessary and I believe we should all be doing some sort of resistance strength training, I cannot pretend like it doesn't feel good to stretch in the moment. Why else would we so naturally stretch after certain things - particularly sitting or participating in an activity that is dependent on repetitive motion. Aside from that, even just the physical practice of yoga usually asks that we practice awareness of the breath, awareness of the body, and remain focused in the present moment. When you combine all of that, the feeling is so much more than a good stretch. I stand by that statement. I think scientific evidence is great and useful (and often supports a consistent asana and meditation practice), but our personal experiences with things also have to be taken into account.

After any long run or ride it just feels GOOD to move the body slowly in a nurturing and supportive way. After a long ride I love backbends and twists especially, but also love to target the muscles in and around the hips. By then end of this ride my calves, feet, and quads all needed some love. A few of my favorite postures post-ride included camel (ustrasana), wheel (urdvha dhanurasana), dancer (natarajasana), and a twisted wide legged forward fold (parivrtta prasarita padottanasana).

I hope you'll consider how the physical practice of yoga as well as the principles of yoga philosophy and meditation get you through and beyond all of your adventures!