Something intangible and good happened today during our morning mountain bike ride.
Shyla and I headed out early for our ride, enjoying a few minutes in a golden aspen grove just after sunrise.
After K died, inexplicably, I completely lost my nerve about one of those spots. It's a rock face that is about 4 bike lengths long, and it goes upward steeply. If you don't attack it with power and confidence, you stall out and are in danger of toppling over. On every single ride since K died, I've chickened out and walked that rock face. Let me remind you that I could ride that section pretty easily before she died.
Today, for reasons that I cannot fathom, it didn't even cross my mind to chicken out. I just powered up and over the obstacle. Then, I stopped in wonder. What made me able to ride that section *today* after spending the past 2.5 years being scared of it? Just to be sure that it was real, I decided to ride it again, a second time, and I nailed it again. I was so happy that I have to admit that I even did it a third time.
I don't understand human psychology. But, I did notice that after I lost K, I lost my motivation to push myself to the edge in most aspects of my life. For example, I rode my mountain bike, but without the verve that I used to have. Very gradually, that motivation has returned, at an accelerating pace this past summer. And then today, it all came together - the courage, the heart, and the confidence - to tackle something that has been too scary for me for 2.5 years.
I think that it's a sign that I am finally coming out of the fog. Invisible to me but real nonetheless - I've been gradually finding my heart and motivation again.