Lessons Learned From Drafting

Yesterday was my birthday and to celebrate I entered by first bike race. It was a 90 mile race around Lake Winnebago, here in Wisconsin. Prior to this I had only ridden in a couple of 50 mile charity rides and so I had no idea what to expect given that this ride was much longer than anything I had done before, and because it was a timed race as well. I knew there would be hundreds of serious bikers there given the fact that a $20,000 prize was being offered to the winning rider if he/she set a new course record (which did in fact happen). I have never considered myself to be a serious biker, but that might change after my experience yesterday. I trained quite a bit for yesterday’s race, but most of my riding was done solo, or with one other person, usually my wife. Before this race, I had never ridden with a pack of riders. Soon after the 1,500 riders started the race yesterday, we formed ourselves in to packs depending on our pace, and I joined a pack of about 30 other riders who rode most of the 90 miles together. As I rode in the midst of this large pack of riders, I very quickly learned about the power of “drafting.” I was soon flying along at a speed that I would have previously thought impossible for me, and surprisingly wasn’t even getting tired. I kept thinking this was too good to be true and that sooner or later I was going to “hit the wall” and slow way down. My fears never materialized and I finished the race two hours earlier than I had expected.

Today I read an article that reports that riding in a “peloton,” the french word for “pack” requires 30%-40% less energy than riding by yourself. I now know how true this is! Members of our little peloton each took turns riding in the front for ten minutes at a time, but then were able to “rest” in the pack for the next 50 minutes. When I finished I was less tired than I have been after many of my solo 50 mile rides.

The message for our personal wholeness and wellness seems rather obvious here. Riding solo requires much more energy than riding with others, where all share a turn breaking the wind. This fact is always true in biking, but becomes absolutely essential when the headwinds are strong. The same is true in our personal lives. Any time we are going through a period of stress or transition, facing a strong headwind, we will find it even more necessary to face that stress or transition in a pack with others. If you are dealing with the stress of sending a child off to school (whether it’s kindergarten, middle school, high school or college), going through a job change/loss, going through a transition to retirement, dealing with a health issue, going through a divorce, or whatever the challenge may be, find a pack of fellow “riders” who are riding the same road as you are and ride together. Take turns “pulling” in front of the pack, and then take your time in the the pack letting them pull you along.

Family, friends, congregations, neighbors and colleagues are all natural “packs” to turn to when we need support for our ride. But as I learned yesterday, people who were previously strangers can also turn up at just the right time to lend support when we need it most. This explains the power of a 12-step group, a cancer support group, or a parents-to-be birthing class.

I’m still on a high from my experience yesterday, and know that it couldn’t have happened without the support of others. It has renewed my commitment to find similar packs of support for other aspects of my life. I hope it will inspire you to do the same. And if you want to get a pack together and go for a long bike ride, I’m ready any time.

Don't Be A Jarhead!

There was a fascinating and ultimately heartwarming story in the news this week about a black bear cub that almost died from having a plastic jar stuck on it head (see the attached picture--do an internet search for “jarhead bear” to read the whole story). The cub, along with its mother and a sibling, were foraging through trash in a local dump near Weirsdale, Florida when it stuck its head in a plastic jar which became stuck on his head, thus earning him the name “jarhead.” Neither the cub, nor the mother, were able to rid the cub of the jar. Local Department of Natural Resource experts knew that if they were not able to catch the cub and remove the jar, he would soon die from starvation or dehydration. Numerous sightings by the public led to an all out effort by the DNR to try and save this cub. Their efforts were resisted though by the mother and the cub itself, who clearly did not trust that those seeking to help had good intentions. Attempts to trap either the mother or the cub, failed. Finally, just when time was about to run out for the cub, there was a chance sighting of the bear family. Quick action allowed a DNR warden to shoot the mother with a tranquilizing dart, which in turn allowed the warden to scoop up the cub and remove the plastic jar from his head. Even in his physically depleted state the cub put up quite a fight, but in the end the jug was removed, and the family was released into a less populated area.  

You and I have the capacity to be jarheads as well. There are several different ways I could go with this story (such as the danger of sticking our noses where they don’t belong,) but the point I’d like to lift up has to do with how stubbornly self-sufficient any of us can be when we, or someone we love, needs help. In the case of the bear, both the cub and the mother strongly resisted anyone who tried to help them. You and I have the capacity to push others away when we are in need of help, even when doing so will certainly prolong and even magnify our suffering.

Here are just a few examples of how any of us can be a jarhead: a person loses their job, but is embarrassed to let others know and so they isolate from friends and family; a new parent is overwhelmed with stress and feels totally inadequate as a parent, but also chooses to hide this from everyone for fear of judgment; a spouse is hurting, but instead of talking to their spouse about what they are going through, they push their spouse away by becoming irritable and critical; a person is worried that they are developing an addiction, but do their best to hide it from friends, coworkers and family--and other family members are doing all they can to deny the condition and block anyone’s efforts to help. In each of these scenarios the person who is being a “jarhead” is clearly struggling and in need of help, but is actively resisting the very support and help they need, even though their resistance both magnifies and prolongs their suffering. So what are we to do? Are we to buy a tranquilizer gun and shoot a dart at people we are close to who need our help, but are actively resisting us?! I don’t think so. The lessons to me from this story are twofold.

First, if I’m in the role of the person who is trying to render help, I need to persevere with patience waiting for the right opportunity to offer help. This can only happen according to the other person’s needs and time frame, and not my own. Secondly, if I’m in the role of the person who is hurting and and in need help, I need to remember not to be a “jarhead” and to allow others to assist me much sooner rather than later. My very life may be dependent on such help!

Learning to Shift

A good friend of our family was in town recently for a conference. While visiting, she was excited to tell us that she had recently decided to take up road biking so that she could ride with her husband, who is already an experienced biker. My friend works out on a regular basis and certainly knows how to ride a bike, and so she anticipated that she would adapt quite quickly to her new sport. In turned out she was both right and wrong about that. She found it easy to ride the bike, but quite difficult to figure out the shifting.  

Her new road bike has 21 gears or speeds and she had never ridden a bike with more than three previously. First, she had to figure out what the left had shifters controlled versus the right hand shifters. She had to figure out how to get into gear 5 or gear 14 or gear 21. This was hard enough, but there was more to learn. Next she had to learn out on the open road, when to use what gear. What gear do you use to go down a hill or up a hill? When do you shift into a lower gear as you approach a hill? She found if she shifted either too early or too late she lost valuable momentum and the climb up the hill become much more difficult. She eventually realized that she could only learn the art of shifting through miles and miles of experience on her bike. There was no simple formula of when to use which gear, but rather she would have to get the “feel” of when it was the right time to shift into a different gear. She was excited to report that in just the three weeks since she had purchased her bike, she was already making good progress.

During our visit our friend was also telling us about her son who is going off to college later this month. The topic had now changed to a whole different kind of shifting. A big hill is just ahead for my friend and her husband, and their son. Since neither of them have done this before, the shifting is bound to be a bit awkward at first. I remember when each of our children went off to school. I tried to pretend like I could ride right through this transition and I minimized the amount of shifting that would be required. Of course when I did this, I soon found myself out of breath, and forced to slow down and give this important transition the time it would take to work through.

When it comes to our emotional and spiritual wellness, the more gears we have available to us, the better off we will be. Knowing when to slow down and when to speed up, and learning the art of shifting back and forth between the full range of emotions, from sorrow to joy, will help us better negotiate the hills and valleys we face. Learning to gracefully accept that “to everything there is a season” is the heart of much wisdom and wellness. There is one more thing that every cyclist soon learns that also has direct application to wellness. Biking long distances is made much easier when you ride with a group, because each person takes turns breaking the wind for those behind. As you and I continue to perfect the art of shifting in our lives, may we also remember the importance of finding others with whom we can share the ride.

Overcoming Homesickness

Summer is associated with many activities, and one of the most popular of those activities is going away to camp. If we don’t have a child ourselves who is going away to camp this summer, we most likely know someone who does. And we can certainly think back to those exciting times when we were kids going off to camp. As exciting as the feelings of going to camp are, there are times when just the opposite feelings arise and the child experiences homesickness.  

I spoke with three different parents this week who were dealing with homesick children away at camp. As I reflected on the many other conversations I had with people this past week, it became clear to me that kids aren’t the only ones who sometimes struggle with being homesick. Adults get homesick, too--they just don’t talk about it very much. In fact, whenever we are negotiating a significant change in life, whether we are 12, 42 or 72, we will find ourselves longing for the comfort of what was, of that which we have left behind. Home is the people and the routines that are familiar to us at any given time in our lives. When we grow or move away from those familiar people and routines, we feel both excited and sad.

One of the reasons we remember our camp experiences so vividly is that they were powerful examples of our first attempts to move out of the “comfort zone” of our family. Going to camp placed us in the “growth zone” and we were justifiably proud to be able to negotiate this transition. We suddenly felt older and more mature when we returned home. We were not the same child who had left home just a week or two earlier.

I looked up several resources on how to help a child who is homesick. The most common advice I found is to first acknowledge with the child that it is normal to feel homesick, and then to keep the child’s attention focussed on the present moment, on the fun they are having at camp. That’s great advice for a camper. Honor the sadness, but don’t dwell on it. Immerse yourself in the present moment and all that it has to offer you. Another good piece of advice was to send something from home along with the child to camp, like a stuffed animal or a picture, to remind them that even though they were in a new and different place, they could bring part of home with them.

We adults can learn something from this advice as well, whenever we find ourselves longing for the “home” of some previous time in our lives. We will do well at those times to honor the feelings of sadness and loss that we are experiencing. We will also do well to immerse ourselves in the present moment, to uncover all the possibilities that it holds for us. We have a saying around here at the Samaritan Family Wellness Center: Change is inevitable, Growth is optional. Here’s hoping that all of our transitions right now, whether we are children or adults, can become life-giving and life-changing experiences of growth.

Flood Recovery

Milwaukee, my home town, made the national news this past week because of record setting flooding. In some parts of the area seven inches of rain fell in a fifty minute period. Several feet of water was common in homes and business that had never flooded before. Some homes were flooded up to through the first floor. A couple of giant sink holes developed, including one that swallowed up a full-sized SUV. All around the city people spent the weekend cleaning their flooded basements. Neighbors helped neighbors haul damaged carpet, boxes and furniture to the curb, where it awaits pick up by the city public works department. The size of the pile in front of a given house is a public sign of the severity of the flood damage the house endured. It is also easy to tell the specific blocks that were hit the hardest because every house on both sides of the street in those blocks have their large piles of debris. As flood victims recover from their suffering, there is at least one important lesson we can learn when it comes to wellness.  

The first, and most important, is that suffering is always lessened when it can be shared. When we suffer a loss, nothing helps more than the ability to talk about it, the ability to tell our story of what we have experienced. Literally everyone I have been in touch with the last four days, whether in person, on Facebook, or through email, has been sharing their flood stories as they work through both the physical and emotional damage of their losses. The raw emotions of anger, laughter and tears have been flowing every bit as much as the rainwater flowed last week. As painful as the flooding has been for so many, there is something very moving about seeing the way so many people have come to together to support one another. Some people have compared it to the weeks after Katrina in New Orleans, or times when our city has been crippled by a major snowstorm.

The asking for and/or giving support to or from our neighbor is relatively easy when we have experienced loss from a flood, or other “natural” disaster. As we have seen again here in Milwaukee this week, that support makes all the difference. This got me to thinking, how wonderful it would be if we could just as easily ask for and offer support when we experience other kinds of losses as well, such as a job loss, the loss of a loved one, or a significant physical or emotional distress. What if there was a way to publicly mark our homes when we were experiencing loss, just as the curbside debris now marks the homes that have suffered loss from the floods here in Milwaukee? All of us in Milwaukee are either suffering from, or know someone who is suffering from last week’s flood. And all of you reading this, wherever you live, are either working through or know someone who is working through other kinds of losses in their lives right now. In the spirit of what we have seen in our area this week, let’s resist the urge to isolate from one another and instead come together as neighbors to help each other recover and heal in times of loss.