Last weekend I listened to my own advice and got out of my comfort zone.
I’d posted a blog about the benefits of doing so a little while ago and then ignored myself. Hypocrite or what?
I’ve set that right now. I had a meeting in town last weekend and the others needed the transport. I could have messed about with lifts but everyone else would have had to change their timings. I could have walked the three miles up to the main road and caught the bus. Or I could push beyond those comfortable alternatives and get the bike out.
I can’t say that I didn’t teeter on the edge of comfort and indecision for a while. After all it was ten miles. But conditions were good – the wind was blowing in the right direction and it was dry, even if only just above freezing. Then there was the problem of what to wear in order to combat the cold but not turn up in all weather gear for a meeting. And did I really want to arrive with a weather ruddy face and a sniffy nose?
I gave myself a kick up the comfortable and got over all that. And I’m SO glad I did. I would have missed so much that I actually delight in.
The morning fields were full of Lark song and the occasional gardens I passed full of Spring chorus. I surprised a Munkjac deer who scuttled across the lane and squeezed through a hole in a hedge but not before I got a good look at it. Chaffinches piped their distinctive call from various perches along the route. And even the town gardens when I finally got there were bursting with signs of Spring; birdsong, blossom and blooms.
I have to admit cycling through town was a bit of a culture shock, but that was counteracted by the fact that most of the miles were done and it looked like I was actually going to make it. And in good time. Time enough for the eyes to stop watering, the nose runs to abate, the face to stop glowing quite so beacon like and my legs to recover enough to walk normally.
But one thing that didn’t recover was the buzz it gave me from having pushed beyond my excuses and faced a challenge, from being out in the elements, from physical activity and achieving a long cycle I hadn’t managed for ages, and a change in my routine.
Sore bum and wobbly legs aside, it was absolutely worth it. The boost it gave me lasted for days.
It seems then I do give good advice sometimes. I should listen to myself more often. Do you listen to your advice – all that advice you’re imparting to your children? Or have you slipped, like me, into a little bit of hypocrisy!
Now, what shall I go for next?