Show up, sit in, shaddup and listen

Sometimes sitting in is the best thing you can do

In cycling there is a concept called ‘Sitting In’. Often this refers to sitting in the group, or peloton and not doing the work. Letting the aerodynamic force of the group pull you along.

This morning I went on a group ride I normally don’t do by way of an invitation from the group organizer.

I explained my road bike was being worked on. “No worries”, he said. Just ride your gravel bike. Trust me. You will be fine.” Since the pace was a bit slower and the distance a little shorter than my normal Saturday work, I agreed.

Often, what we think we know, limits us and keeps us from growing. It surely keeps us from experiencing anything new and wonderful.

Sometimes lessons in life are writ large and unmistakeable, like a Banksy work that shows up across the street overnight. Others, are a bit more subtle and sometimes not what you expect to see or experience. As was this morning.

I expected a ride at a slower pace than usual with a group that was not my typical team members or racer friends. Nor was it yet another solo structured training grind. On the ride to the ride, I was thinking about the structured training work I would miss by doing this. Maybe I should bag it and just default back to the normal routine.

At the apex of my self negotiation, I found myself rolling into the parking lot. I was committed. “Well, just sit in today. Different change of pace.”

That it was.

I was able to listen to an acquaintance, whom I had not seen in years, talk about being a full time caretaker for his father, who he moved into hospice. I listened to him break down how he had to give up on his passion as a content creator (and a good one at that) to focus on his avocation and his father. The emotion in his voice as he shared the details of the work. And work it was. Emotionally and physically taxing.

We talked about the sharp feelings that came when I grew frustrated about not having free time to ride. He mused that soon he’d have a lot more of that.

This is where the conversation waned, as I am sure he was thinking about the approaching death of his father and perhaps his own mortality. We talked about times he had with his dad over the years. Small things which were a patchwork of memories that made up some of the experience he had between father and son.

I mentioned a podcast in which I heard, something profound, which I shared.

“Change the way you look at things…instead of thinking you saw an aging parent who lives nearby, two weeks ago, what if you told yourself you might only see them 10 or 12 more times on this earth. Would you do anything different?”

We both agreed that we would. This holds true for my one remaining parent and the lies I’ve told myself about being busy.

Another conversation, this time a bit further up in the peloton, focused on my previous company. The one that caused so much trauma. The one that caused me to believe I was a failure. This conversation went a little like this, “what a genius idea. I saw it in action a number of times and always marveled the minds that had to create a solution to such a vexing problem.”

He went on for a few minutes about as an attorney, how much he enjoyed trying to understand how it worked. It had invigorated him and he still thought from time to time that there were always solutions to paradoxical problems, if you looked for them differently. It had given him great joy.

I replied, “yeah, but it didn’t end well.”

He laughed and said, “was it really the end? Of that chapter perhaps, but the story I am betting isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”

He was right.

Yet another talked about the fright caused when she joins a ride where she thinks she isn’t adequate enough. I shared a brief story about a friend of mine. She is a pro gravel racer and she struggles with imposter syndrome.

I replied, “most people people feel that way at some point, including people you think have no reason to whatsoever. Believe it or not, often it is them more than others. You just can’t see the fear and the mental chatter because of the glasses and helmet, but it’s there. For most of us anyway. “Hell, I feel that way all the time.”

She looked at me, shook her head and said, “No, that is not possible. I don’t believe that for a second.” She went on to talk about how her participation in the sport gave her so much joy. Being outside on a beautiful morning. Putting in the work. Being able to ride with someone like you.

“What? Like me? I am nothing special. I replied.” She then said to me something I will not soon forget.

Listening to your stories, the races you go to and do. The people you’ve met or know. You travel in a little circle which sits just outside of an even smaller circle. You get to participate in something that only a few get to do and the rest of us just read about. Or day dream we are doing when we are out doing our regular Saturday ride. Being able to ask questions and experience…like I was there, as we talk, is a gift. What you are talking about is a whole other world. Oh, thank you for treating me like a racer today! (I had been giving her a hard time as riders often do when sitting in).

I had never thought about what she said. She was right. I took for granted many of these experiences, because they were now normal to me. She had reframed my view of things and given me a reason to appreciate and find gratitude in these experiences.

While I listened, finding so much happiness in her joy, I realized that we often get stuck in our own habit loops. We should short circuit them on occasion. Suspend what we think we know. Do something different. Maybe a little uncomfortable. Maybe just go and sit in.

We each have more worth than we think and more to give than we often do. If you have a chance, just show up, shaddup and sit in.

When we do, we can learn so much from others that is worth appreciating. If we hear it.

As well as ourselves. If we allow it.