Recognizing Tailwinds

Because they are a long stretch of islands with one huge body of water (the Atlantic Ocean) on one side and another huge body of water (the Gulf of Mexico) on the other, the Florida Keys are really windy.  The wind comes from all around, blowing palm fronds madly, sending birds hurtling through the air, and thrusting intoxicated vacationers off piers and into the ocean.  As I'm sure you can imagine, this level of windiness makes for some very interesting bike riding.

Over the past several weeks, I've realized something interesting about the way I experience biking.  When I'm riding with a tailwind, I don't even notice that I'm being assisted.  I just bike along like, "Tra la la!" without thinking of the benevolent force that's giving me a boost.  Helpful as it is, a tailwind feels like nothing.

A headwind, on the other hand, is quite noticeable, in that it is horribly torturous and evil.  When I turn into a headwind, I immediately transform into Boo-Hoo Biker.  I sweat profusely, gasp for air, and jut out my lower lip like a two year-old.  As the wind does its best to blow me backwards, I curse air and everything it stands for.

Here I am utilizing a green plane to represent Boo-Hoo Biker

My aunt once said that she wished people could experience a lack of pain as acutely as we experience pain.  If you sprain your ankle or tweak your back, you know it.  It bugs you constantly, and with each movement you lament your injury and feel like crap.  However, if your ankle or back doesn't hurt, you don't notice.  You simply go about your day, like Al riding with a tailwind, not thinking, You know what?  My ankle and back feel just fine!  How delightful!


This manner of experiencing pain, or no pain, creates a mode of existence in which we feel grumpy when things go wrong, but don't recognize or appreciate when things go right.  This is a problem, because it leads to one honing the ability to feel sorry for herself while ignoring opportunities to be grateful.  And that's bad.  Self-pity coupled with complacency is a combination destined for disaster.

In that same vein, it's problematic that things that are bad for us can cause no pain, while things that are good for us sometimes do.  Take, for example, smoking meth vs. climbing a mountain (or, say, riding into a headwind).  What kind of flaw in evolution creates beings who feel perfectly fine (or even absolutely fabulous) while poisoning their bodies and destroying their brains, but feel exhausted and miserable while they're building muscle and strengthening their hearts?

I've decided to stop trusting my pain receptors so much.  Sometimes they're just not very smart.  Therefore, I plan to stop whining in the face of pain.  Recognizing that some pain is good for me, I will appreciate challenges, even if they're painful.  Instead of thinking, Fuck you, headwind!  Die!  Die!  I'll try to think, This headwind is helping me get killer legs, and I'm fighting heart disease!  Woo hoo!

Seriously, this is awesome.

I also want to make a point each day to acknowledge my lack of pain, and how miraculous it is that, with all of its complex circuitry and opportunities for failure, my body is managing to function quite well. 

It's time to start recognizing tailwinds.  When I'm biking along merrily, not getting slammed in the face by an unrelenting wall of air, I need to take a moment to think, A tailwind is pushing me along right now.  That's cool.  Similarly, I should take time to appreciate the more abstract tailwinds in my life - the cast of characters (friends and family) who make me laugh and check in with me to make sure I'm doing okay; the air, food, and water quality I have the privilege to enjoy; the comfy, warm bed I get to sleep in each night...the list goes on and on.  I have a shit ton of tailwinds, and they tend to go unnoticed despite their awesomeness.

I know it's not New Year's, but it is Pi Day, so here is my Pi Day resolution:  I will work to recognize tailwinds and appreciate headwinds 3.14 times more exuberantly than I have in the past.

:)  Happy Pi Day, folks.