Love Ride

In an earlier post I talked about the struggles I went through during my first year of teaching. I talked about how I second guessed my profession, how I sought help, and how I had a family and friend base that really pulled me through. That may sound a bit dramatic to some, but teaching is HARD, y'all.

One of the many things I did to help bring myself out of the funk I was in was to tag along to an indoor spinning class with my friend Marisa.

Prior to April 2017 I was a pretty active person. I was a runner, I enjoyed yoga, and I loved taking on a 21-Day-Fix challenge every now and then. Working out was an escape for me. It was something I did for myself, by myself, or at least with adults only. Not only was it an escape, but it felt good. As my good friend Elle Woods put it: "Exercise gives you endorphins, endorphins make you happy, happy people just don't shoot their husbands...they just don't."

When I hurt my knee all of that stopped. If I did anything overly active I would pay for it with a swollen, aching, leg. When the powers that be finally decided surgery was going to be my only option, I became even less active. I assumed I would have the surgery, recover in 4 weeks, and be ready to go. Unfortunately, I was pretty off base with that assumption. Not only was I totally off base, but my doctor informed me that running was probably out of the question.  In the midst of a year that was already spiraling for me, this was just another drop in the bucket.

When Marisa asked me to go to the Cyclebar with her, I was hesitant. I hadn't worked out in so long, but I was a competitive person at heart. I wasn't sure how my mental health would hold up if I failed at something else.

"Spinning can't be that hard..." I thought to myself. So I went.

Five minutes in I was looking for an escape route.

"How can I get out of here without anyone noticing?!" (There was no way, btw)

"Am I going to drown on my own saliva?" (My mouth had become so sticky I honestly started thinking that I might asphyxiate)

"Where the hell is the AED?"

"I am going to miss my kids so much..."

Twenty-five minutes in I realized that I was not going to die. And if 25 other people were sweating their asses off right along with me, I was probably over-reacting with the imminent death thoughts.

Thirty-five minutes in the instructor started telling us a story. She talked about the previous week when she had been having a hard day. She said that because the day was hard, she was doubting herself and others around her. She was feeding herself negative thoughts about who she was and what she could accomplish.

In the middle of her story, she started crying. She talked about how she witnessed the compassion of complete strangers, and how it helped her remember that the good in this world always, always, always outweighs the bad. It helped her realize that a bad day, week, month, or year, didn't have to define who she was or how she tackled life.

And then I started crying.

The tears could have been my body's way of telling me that I wasn't going to physically survive much longer so I better get off the damn bike.

But, more logically, the tears were because, there I was: Struggling. Unable to find my way. Feeling out of control and lost. And the cycle instructor was literally talking to me. She was telling me exactly what I needed to hear, when I needed to hear it. That was not a coincidence.

Marisa taking me to that class? Not a coincidence.

Me surviving long enough to hear Michelle tell her story? Not a coincidence.

This past Saturday I was lucky enough to be a part of a Love Ride that the Cyclebar put on for one of their instructors. This instructor has been through hell and back over the last few weeks. The Love Ride was an opportunity to show her how supported she is, along with her entire family, through this incredibly difficult time.

I do not personally know this instructor. I do not have her phone number, we don't hang out. But I signed up, because I relate to her, because I wanted to help her, because she is a total rockstar.

I can't begin to put into words the emotion that was running through that class yesterday, but I can promise you that there was not one person who didn't choke up- not because anything sad was happening- but because the love that was pumping through the veins of every person in that class was loud.

We were all there, for one reason. To get Anna through this time in her life, where she was struggling, feeling out of control, and needing peace. And we met her there to support her and remind her that as a cycle family, no matter what, we support each other. And that, my friend, is no coincidence.

Some people wonder why I love my cycle class so much. It's hard. It's sweaty. It's usually pretty early. And it can get pricey. But there is not a price I can put on the type of family and the type of community that exudes from that place. There is not a price I can put on the fact that, whether they know it or not, they helped me through a tough time in my life. There is not a price I can put on witnessing the strength and the love and the hope that is given to each rider, no matter their place in life, on every ride.

Until next time,

XOXO Aly

P.S. If anyone wants to help Anna and her family, here is the link! https://www.gofundme.com/SpinksFamily