Midlife Unpacked

There is nothing quite as delightful as hurtling down a hill on a bicycle, I think to myself whilst whizzing down a particularly long and winding one in the countryside of Berry.

I’m not particularly fast and I’m definitely not a risk taker, but even I love the feeling of freedom that comes from freewheeling at speed down sweeping, traffic-free roads. Maybe it feels like childhood, unshackled from care or concern and the constant “what-if” mantra that I seem to have inherited age about 13.

My Strava stats tell me I hit 54km at some point. Cyclists will know this is not actually very fast. The professionals seem to manage to do that going uphill on a bad day. But I’m not them. I’m me – older, heavier, more anxious, and new to this game – and that speed, albeit for merely seconds, feels eye-watering. 

Naturally, going downhill requires a lot less work than going uphill. Uphill is a trudge. It’s hard and slow and full of mind games. It hurts your lungs and legs and makes you wonder what you’re doing out of bed.

The thing is, of course, if you want the joy of the downhill, you have to put up with the slog of the uphill.

I ponder this little piece of philosophy as I’m humming my way down a hill, a smile as wide as the Nile plastered to my face, the wind whipping up my hair, my hands shuddering on the handle bars and my fingers feathering the breaks probably more than I should. Endorphins shooting through my system, I feel happy and free.

When I’m going uphill I don’t have time for luxuries like reflecting on the meaning of life. Mostly I think “pull up” and “breathe” and “God, I need to do more hill training”. And also, “what the heck am I doing this for?”. Usually I feel a bit miserable. The value of the hill, it seems, is only apparent in retrospect.

Unfortunately, the thrill is over in a fraction of the time it takes to get to the top in the first place. Such is life!

There are other life lessons here.

From the viewpoint of 50 plus years, you see the landscape you’ve already walked is replete with hills. The uphills and the downhills. Life, it is clear, is bumpy and textured – at least if it is interesting. A life lived all on the flats is boring, much like a bike ride, with no challenge and no thrill and nothing much in it to stoke the inner glow. We need hills.

Climbing the hill is an age-old trope of success. We have to make our way to the top, the story goes, to feel like we have conquered this thing called life. It is, by definition, a struggle. If we sacrifice, work hard, have grit and determination, perseverance and tenacity, ta-da we arrive at the top!  We get the view, and the reward of accomplishment, and are reminded that without a struggle there is no such thing as achievement.  

Blah blah blah.

That’s all probably true, but it’s not the point I want to make. My point lies in acknowledging the fluidity of life. Life is not static. Yes, rewards only make us feel good about ourselves when we earn them. But we tend to think of success as a destination -a place we aim to arrive at. As if, upon successfully conquering your mountain, you get to stop and unpack your tent. Make yourself at home. Put your feet up and watch the view with a nice gin and tonic. And maybe you do, but not for long. Because life is moving along around you. Leaving you behind. In real life and in cycling, the glimpse from the top, the feeling of achievement, is momentary.

(Picture is from The Kepler Trail – New Zealand, same lesson, different mode of hill climbing)

The point is not that we have to work hard, but rather that everything passes. Everything changes. Both the slogs and the thrills. It is about perseverance and tenacity, but it’s also about freewheeling and indulging. And neither of those things are permanent states of being. Nothing lasts forever.

A good life – a life well lived – lies in the journey itself. The uphills and the downhills. And the willingness to get off the flats.

Success is not an emotion. Elation, despair, joy, tears, frustration – they change all the time. Success is the knowledge that, overall, you’ve lived the life you want to live. You’ve not been put off by the uphills, and so lost out to the downhills. You’ve not stuck only to the flats where it is safe and boring. Instead you’ve sought to dream a little, strive a little, risk a little, and follow your curiosity to see what lies on the other side of the mountain.

And you’ve taken time to get off your bike, throw off your clothes and run naked into the sea under a moonlit sky because you feel like you just must (yes, sans the bike, Mozambique, too drunk to care about sharks – what would my children think!).

Not to put too fine a point on it, but life moves inexorably towards death. It’s inevitable.

We start out as a single cell organism that is fused into being through an orgasm (how cool), bursting with life, with opportunity to experience things. That’s all we have in the end. That’s all we are – the sum of our experiences. Not our memories (for they fade too), but the moments, good and bad, that we chose to live in.

A life lived both sides of the hills, at least in retrospect, seems to be the recipe for living a life you loved.

Onwards

Sharlene