Taking my time. Riding a bike.

In a world consumed with the unsettling feeling of constant ‘corporate’ ladder climbing; I’ve had the pleasure of falling off the route at a young age… a few times. This ‘route’ typically being conjured up by the age of 18-22. At that age our decisions are heavily biased with family, religion, relationships, and society. Most haven’t left the comforts of their hometown, friend circles, or even state. A key factor that’s missing would be ones sense of self. This definition of ‘self’ is still that which has been molded by our upbringing, fitting quite nicely in a confined little box. What I’ve come to terms with is that I don’t really fit into a box, and when the walls start building up around me, I want nothing but to break them down.

This has rung true in a lot of my life, and with my recent jump I’m trying to work on being more mindful of taking my time. Bringing me back to that little word I believe should be in the 4-letter category; patience. Knowing that all my choices I’ve made good or bad, thought out or rash, have all lead me to where I am right now… and that is exactly where I need to be.

What has stood by me through these constant life re-routing is my bike, well a few different bikes… but two wheels nonetheless. Of course, family and friends are always and will always be there; but time on my bike is the one place where I feel like I can think clearly and process the input, criticism, and all else that’s thrown my way with my lofty goals. These goals that may not be completely understood by everyone, but to me they give me a purpose. A purpose that is far from my original plan, but a purpose that will continue to grow and change… with Time. Patience. And a bicycle.