YOU ALWAYS HAVE MORE THAN YOU THINK YOU HAVE

Life is like riding a bicycle — in order to keep your balance, you must keep moving.

— Albert Einstein

Do you remember riding your first bike? If you didn't have a bike, think about a time when you tried something new and how many times you practiced to be good at it. How did it feel as you hopped on your bike and thought, "Wow! How in the world am I going to keep my balance and not fall?" How many times did you crash or skin your knees and elbows? A lot of times, I imagine, if you were like me! My knees were always scraped or bruised from the many attempts to keep my balance. But in the end, it was worth my effort and time.

I vividly recall how, when I first began riding a bicycle, my older sister's bike was too big for me. I could not even reach the pedals from the seat. I was so short that I had to sit on the frame of the bike or stand up all the time to make the pedals turn. This made bike riding difficult for me, but I was willing to deal with a little pain to experience the joy and freedom of being on a bike.

During this period, I discovered the "Don't give up" mind-set each time I fell off the bike. My pride and ego would suffer, but they didn't hurt as much as my knees and elbows did. Yikes! It was quite painful having to ride a girl's bike, if you know what I mean. Despite my friends' teasing, I was determined to make it work because I enjoyed it so much. I didn't care what they thought as long as I was riding.

My bike allowed me to experience my first taste of freedom: traveling wherever I wanted to go. All I needed to do was to pedal and steer my bike to the destination and watch out for the cars.

Most of my rides were to a small hobby shop in my neighborhood. The shop was a couple of miles from my home. It seemed a long trip by bike, but I remember how great it felt to have my own transportation and know I could go as far as my body could take me. My friends and I enjoyed riding to this store because it had models of the cars and planes we dreamed of owning someday.

Sometimes we would carry our kites to a vacant field and fly them all day long. We would enjoy the clouds passing by, imagine different characters in their shapes, and eventually fall asleep while lying on the ground in the warm sun.

Hanging out with my friends, riding my bike, and enjoying the natural world outdoors are some of my best memories. I would bet that you've had similar experiences. But not all of us grew up playing outside. More people now are caught up in social media and spend more time indoors on their electronic devices. If this sounds like you, I would encourage you to step outside more often and connect with nature and with yourself. It is easy to lose oneself to digital communication and not live in the present moment.

At age fourteen, for my first job as a paperboy, I woke at the crack of dawn to fold and rubber-band the papers. Then I'd deliver them by bicycle. Some days were rough, especially when it rained or snowed. The paper had to be delivered daily, without fail.

My dad was willing to drive me around in the car when it rained, but he was not able to do so all the time. Riding in the rain for seven blocks to compete my route was kind of cool. I rose to the challenge of keeping my balance while carrying a huge sack of papers on the bike. I felt like Santa Claus as I carried bundles of papers that, most likely, weighed more than I did!

Riding my bike was teaching me lessons that I never knew I was learning, such as perseverance, endurance, mental and physical strength, digging deep into my reserves, courage, and faith.

I called on every one of those lessons when I rediscovered cycling over seventeen years ago. It all started at a health fair, I realized that many years in a sedentary job had allowed my six-foot frame to grow to 216 pounds, with a thirty-six-inch waist.

I looked like a doughboy.

In a classic knee-jerk reaction, I signed up for a two-day, 150-mile charity bike ride. I was terrified when I signed the registration form. My heart pounded rapidly, and my hands sweated just from thinking about how long and challenging the ride was going to be. I remember looking at my wife, Tricia, and asking her, "Do you think I can make it?" She reassured me that it was possible. In fact, she believed in me more than I believed in myself. I went on to survive the ride and have never looked back.

What activities have taught you your greatest lessons?

As adults, most of us have the responsibility of balancing children, spouses, family members, work, bosses, coworkers — all the factors we must manage. These demands can overwhelm us at times. Life can sometimes be a challenge, but you have to keep moving in any direction you can. If you did stop moving, life would become boring because you would not be not challenging yourself or learning new skills. You wouldn't have the life you were meant to live.

At some point, you may say, "Enough is enough," or "I just can't do it anymore." You feel as if you've reached a threshold where the pain is so intense that you tell yourself it is time to give up. Your body may be in such pain that your mind screams, "I can't move another muscle — just stop what you're doing to me!" How often have you made a similar statement and then later realized you made it through anyway?

It is your mind that tells you, "No more," and that you've reached a saturation point, the end of the road. Marriages can fail when one partner has reached the point of frustration due to differences or challenges or has just fallen out of love. This is a tough road to follow when you feel that you're the only one out there. Without support or someone to talk to, it can be a challenge. But you must keep pedaling to maintain your balance.

Giving up is like watching the light go dim in your life. The joy and fun of doing something that pushes you to your perceived limit becomes unbearable, so you click into the off position. Life can appear so challenging in your mind that you want to quit; you just don't care anymore. This is when you really need to dig into your reserves and claw your way out from the deep cave that you may be entering.

Several years ago, I was out on a bike ride with a group of friends. These guys rode really fast, so it was tough for me to keep pace with them. We had ridden close to sixty miles when we stopped at the top of a hill to take a break. It was a hot Texas summer day. I was completely exhausted, or at least I thought I was. As we stood around, eating and sipping from our water bottles, we started talking about our ride and how beautiful the route was.

I told the guys that I couldn't make it...