115km, a peanut butter sandwich and opinionated people

(Well actually I ended up eating more than that... a snickers bar and a protein bar too.)

So I was out riding, pretty early, it started out overcast, but you could feel the sun poking through the clouds. I was overdressed, but I'd always rather be hot than cold. Anyways, the legs didn't feel peppy, they had no juice, there was no fast turn over and no power to get up hills quickly. But I was excited to get out there and spend some hours solo on my bike.

I prefer riding on my own. It's a very intimate time for me and my mind, I enjoy allowing my thoughts to take me to the places I never go throughout the week, the places that may be a bit hidden, the places that I sometimes don't even know exist, until I stumble onto them from peeling back the layers of the onion.

Interesting side thought: What is the difference between "me and my mind"? Is this the question all religious/spiritual people try more fully to comprehend...? Where would God fit there?

Anyways, back to my ride... I was thinking about something someone had once told me: "Susanne, you have a whole life of experiences, why don't claim them?" At the time, I totally wasn't listening to what that really mean. But, now, as I was taking my second lap of Stanley Park, I was beginning to wonder: what did she mean exactly? I stopped and had my first half of the peanut butter sandwich ... yum!

So I started thinking about the people who were sure of what they thought and not afraid to tell anyone. The people who dole out the advice, the people who always have an answer, the people who will tell you quite vividly what they think on any topic, what they think about the latest trend, how best to shop for fruit and how exactly you should peel a potato.

I always feel two ways about these types. Part of me greatly admires them, because I wish I could be sure of everything, and part of me can't stand them.

You see, I grew up in a very opinionated family. I am the youngest of four kids, and along with my parents, everyone in my house, except for me, was loud. I have read, that the youngest of a family with many members, will tend to be more of an observer. As I grew up, I was always either too small or too young to be part of the 'big kids things' - so I tended to be more of a tag along, desperately trying to keep up with cooler older siblings. I did a lot of listening and I did a lot of watching. I heard many opinions about many things, and I heard many sides to the same story. So I got to understand that there was never one way to slice things - that there are many ways, and usually each way has its own merits.

After a couple loops of Stanley Park, I was through with thinking of my family and how it all began, I was on my way to Horseshoe Bay and I was onto thinking more about me... what a surprise!

So I was an observer of life, I preferred to take it in, rather than dole it out (except when I blog about it all later on...!). And so I began to think about the people I truly admired. Well they weren't the people who told you their life story shortly after "Nice to meet you, my name is Susanne..." I often find that the people who have the most to say, are the ones you need to "take with a grain of salt". (Wherever did that expression come from?)

Now this lady who told me I should "claim my life experience", was she saying that I need to be more assertive? Is that really needed? I knew she was speaking to my sometimes quiet nature and fear of saying anything at the risk of sounding stupid. That's not to say that I'm shy, nor does it mean that I have nothing to say. But I do find it hard to talk about myself, I'd rather ask a lot of questions to find out what others think. My mom called this "false humility", I am not so sure, though she may be right (just one more thing I am not so sure of... and one more example of opinionated person!)

I stopped to pick up some more gatorade (I was sweating myself silly, as the sun was out in full effect) and a snickers bar and a cliff protein bar. I jammed my snickers-snack into my mouth, rode to HSbay and set my sights on Cypress.

Yes, my mom, has opinions. I often think I moved to the other side of the country to get away from them! Something she admits herself. I spoke at my grandma's funeral about the juxtaposition of these two ladies in my life. You see, my grandma epitomized the strong silent type. I said: "From the one I learned to speak out, from the other I learned to be silent."

And I think that is the point. As I rolled slowly to the top of Cypress mountain, very slowly indeed, after I downed the last of my gatorade, the other half of my sandwich and the last bar, I said: "Well, there has to be a happy medium."

On the way back home, I realized I really like it when people ask my opinion, but I also like it that they have to ask (it's a pretty rare occasion!). Because I value best the opinions of people from whom I have to ask to get it.

It was over 100k, and I was actually starting to feel strong in my legs, and I powered my way home on the last leg. And of course my mind began to wander still.... maybe this is more of control thing? Maybe I just don't like being told something, I'd rather ask for it when I feel like hearing it.

Well that's food for another a ride.