Keep Pedaling

I get some personal emails as a result of FoodShed Planet where I have truly moving conversations with people who were strangers not long ago. And some would say, we are still strangers, having cyber-relationships which are nothing more than mirages, false connections in a disconnected society.

But I beg to differ. And here's why.

Six weeks before I turned 40, I got a unicycle. Leaving the bike store with that unicycle under my arm was one of the happiest moments of my life. The possibilities! The challenge! The sheer silliness of it all! The morning of my birthday, at precisely my birth moment, I rode halfway around the track on that unicycle to the thunderous applause of my family. While learning to ride, I literally found out what balance truly means in more ways than one. In fact, I've learned a bunch of lessons since then.

1. Get over the fear of falling by learning to fall gracefully.

After learning how to just sit on the darn thing, the next thing you learn on a unicycle is how to fall. You sit there, with your hand on the previously-white wall in your hallway, and let the seat drop forward, falling effortlessly, miraculously, on your feet. Then, you do it again, letting the seat fall backwards. Again, you’re on your feet. You practice this for hours so that when the day comes when you finally leave the wall and pedal an actual rotation or two, you can fall with ease and confidence, knowing you will land on your feet. Okay, fine, it doesn’t always work out that way, but you learn. Fast. Especially that it’s far less painful to fall forward.

When I get book rejections or lose a potential client opportunity now--which I do, a lot—I try to remember to fall gracefully and to use whatever knowledge I acquired from the experience to move me forward in my career, and more importantly, in my life.


2. Relax your back, remember to breathe, and keep pedaling.

When you stop pedaling on a unicycle, you stop. Period. There is no coasting. Pedaling must be constant. And when you’re focusing on teetering up there on that seat and basically trying not to kill yourself, it’s sometimes hard to remember to keep those leg pistons going, like a duck in water.

When I first started riding, I had to sing songs to remind myself to pedal on each beat. This required so much thought that I would forget to breathe and would tighten up my back until it was a total knot. Yoga techniques help with both these problems, which is why I often refer to unicycling as uniyoga—besides, it’s the ultimate balance pose! If you want to be truly challenged, try tree pose on a unicycle. And when life tenses me up now, my breath is the first thing I think of.

3. Lean into the wind or get blown right over.

I used to ride several mornings a week, all year long, through all kinds of weather. Rain, snow flurries and scorching sun were no problem. Wind was the problem. Here, I had to remember what I learned in that church basement in New York City where I took those budget sailing lessons many years ago. The instructor walked in with a fan and said, “Today we are going to learn about wind” and he proceeded to blow it at us from various directions and attempt to teach us the proper ways to jib and jab.

So now, when the wind blows, I try to figure out which way the fan is pointed and react accordingly. My arms are the sails. I raise and lower them slightly, making minor corrections, until I once again maintain equilibrium. When the wind blows straight at me, there is only one defense, however. I must lean forward into it and keep on pedaling. Likewise, when adversity hits in life, I see it as wind to which I must simply react by either making adjustments or leaning into and plowing through.


4. Keep your focus on where you want to go, not where you are.

I heard once that heads weigh something like ten pounds so if you keep moving your head around, you throw off your balance. Focus is everything. On the unicycle, I lock my eyes on a mid-distance point ahead of me and go towards it, although my ears stay tuned for sounds in the Now so I can tell if a dog runs up behind me (never fun) or respond to a jogger who wants to chat (which is often).

In my daily life, I keep mindful of my big-picture intentions—to fulfill my purpose for today, to honor the abilities I’ve been given by using them for good in the world, and to be a positive bridge to future generations.

5. Don’t worry about how silly you look. Who really cares?

I’m a mini-van driving suburban mom (although, didn't I used to be sort of hip at one time?) I live in a neighborhood where we have to get the color of our shutters approved before repainting. I don’t know how many people ride a unicycle in this country, but here in my town, no one does but me, as far as I can tell. Riding a unicycle is a little out there. But, you know what? Once I got out there, and once the high school kids stopped heckling me from the windows that overlook the track, unicycling became the most normal thing in the world for me. I was free. Truly free.

I can skip wildly down the street, sing out of tune while washing my car, jump awkwardly off the diving board at the community pool, laugh from deep in my soul, and even allow myself to be vulnerable to criticism and yes, even rejection. It’s okay. It’s part of living my life out loud. Even though my shutters are a lovely shade of blue.

6. Celebrate the joy of achievement, no matter how truly useless the skill.

I can do something today I couldn’t do a few years ago, and something most people have never tried to do at all. Each time I have a setback in my life, I remind myself, “Yeah, but you can ride a unicycle” and it always make me smile.

I took this photo after riding my unicycle in a nearby basketball court. And when I looked back at it, I saw this freaky shadow. You have to admit--it is most definitely a gardener with a shovel. A little, alien-looking one of course, but a gardener. And for me, the message is clear. My gardener friends around the world are reflections of who and what I am. They are ways that I find support in an unsteady, challenging world. And through our connections, we are not alone. We can keep pedaling, awkwardly, on one wheel, as the world spins out of control around us. And we can celebrate the freedom we have found with each other.

Yes, reaching out to strangers was a risk for me, and believing our relationships are real is probably even riskier. But, when I see the good it has brought to my world--and the good I hope we are bringing collectively to the whole world, I ask you, what's not real about that?

Keep Pedaling