A Declaration of Freedom

So, my last posting talked about expanding my horizons. Living outside my self-imposed limits. Taking a few more (well-chosen) chances.

And I started that process yesterday:

I hadn't touched my unicycle since before my diagnosis last year. And during most of my treatment, I simply didn't have the energy to ride. And by the time my radiation and chemo treatments were done, I was on blood thinners and concerned that I might fall off my uni and start bleeding uncontrollably. Maybe "frightened" is a better word than "concerned."

And I missed riding. And I especially missed the early Saturday morning riding sessions that members of the Turks Head Jugglers had held for years. (Not that often, mind you, but maybe four or five times a year...) And I knew that these sessions would not start up again unless I took charge and scheduled them.

So last Friday, I sent an e-mail off to those members of the THJ who might be interested in unicycling: please join me at our regular riding place tomorrow morning. Understandably (as everyone had less than 24 hours' notice), no one showed up.

That is, no one but me. Which was fine. I had three unicycles with me -- just in case -- but didn't expect any company. Which was a Good Thing Not To Expect, since I didn't have any company.

But I rode! And I rode well!

As I rode, I thought to myself: "I haven't fallen off a unicycle and bled seriously for years, so why was I so concerned about this?" And it dawned on me that I had been letting fear dictate what I could and could not do. Irrational fear. Incapacitating fear.

For the last 6 months and more, I told myself that I could resume riding when my body was totally healed and off the blood thinners. But it has recently occurred to me that that day may never come. And if I waited for that day of total healing, someone would likely inherit my unicycle after I die. And it could wind up hanging in someone's garage and never get used again.

As I rode, all the little tricks you need to stay aloft on a uni came back to me one-by-one: Keep your posture perfectly upright. Keep your weight on the seat, not on the pedals. Turn by looking in the direction you want the uni to go. Trust your body to make all the necessary adjustments to keep you upright and moving. Stop by letting your body fall slightly forward as you grab the back of the seat. (This will allow you to remain standing upright with the uni safely in hand -- keeping it from bouncing off the pavement.) Relax as you ride.

And as I rode, I felt unshackled.