This Saturday morning, I gave myself a small break by waking up at 6:10. The past week had been exhausting with no time for afternoon rest, and last night, I was shaken when my little one choked during a meal. After washing up, I meditated for over ten minutes and then went to the field to practice Ba Duan Jin and some traditional exercises. Then, I set off on my first riverside bike ride—something I had planned and looked forward to for a long time.
The Ride Begins
I originally thought I would only ride for about half an hour. I haven’t been cycling long—I used to only start moving after sitting down, and even then, I wobbled a lot. These days, I can slowly push off and pedal, though I still sway and sometimes bump my knees. But any progress is good, and I don’t ask too much of myself.
As I turned onto the riverside path, two leaves drifted down, as if welcoming me and my bike. That little moment lifted my spirits. It was overcast, the views were lovely, and with the leaves and a gentle breeze, everything felt just right.
Facing the Wind
The longer I rode, the harder it became. What started as a pleasant breeze slowly turned into a headwind, like a barrier on my path. It made the ride more challenging, but I could still handle it.
The Hardest Part: Riding Back
The real test—the part that made me want to stop and walk—was the return trip. It felt like riding against the wind the whole way. The gusts were strong, and with my unsteady skills, every pedal stroke became a test of will. I kept talking to myself, setting small goals: Just make it another 10 meters… now 20… now 100. In the toughest moments, I yelled out like someone unhinged: “Legs, move!” “I need a tailwind—give me a tailwind!” “Go, go, don’t stop!” I didn’t care what anyone around me thought. Maybe I gave them a laugh. Maybe they thought I’d lost it. But in that moment, all that mattered was hitting those small marks—10 meters, then 20—until I finally rode safely back to campus.
Finishing Strong
As I sped through the school gate, the security guard teased, “No class today—what’s the rush?” But it wasn’t about rushing. If I slowed down, I knew I’d have to gather my courage all over again. It was better to push straight through to the end.
When I finally stopped, I felt truly happy. The ride may have only lasted 50 minutes, but it was a complete success. I saw lovely views along the river, passed wall murals and flowers tended with care, waved to morning runners and other cyclists, and said good morning to an elderly street cleaner. Most of all, I overcame myself—my fear, my hesitation, the urge to quit.
Why fear? Because my skills are still shaky. I’ve fallen before. I still get nervous around people or cars. But I got on the bike and rode—and that alone is a step forward. Why hesitation? Because that headwind made every push forward a struggle. I had to cheer myself on just to keep going.
Looking back, once I pushed through the hardest part, my mood lifted. The ride began to feel easier. I stopped thinking about quitting. I felt capable again.
In many ways, life is like a bike ride. There are tailwinds and headwinds—more headwinds, really. Some people face real storms. But if you hold on and keep going, you’ll find a better, stronger, more confident you on the other side.
May we all find the courage to overcome ourselves, reach our goals, and live happily.
