Near the end of my afternoon ride, I heard my name. I turned: someone I hadn’t seen in a while. I’d asked about him at a neighborhood diner, where he was a regular and I occasionally get take-out. Turns out, he’d had a series of medical issues that turned out to be less serious than he’d thought.
We’re the same age: only a few weeks separate us. He knew that I am a cyclist but, until today, he had never seen me on my bicycle. “Where are you coming from?”
“Oh, not far. Just Randall’s Island.”
“Just” Randall’s Island?”
Depending on which route I take to and from, and where I ride on the island, I cover about 25 kilometers. That, to me, is “just getting some fresh air.” To him, however, it seemed like an excursion. Mind you, he joined the Navy out of high school and, after a couple of tours and an honorable discharge, kept his fitness with weight and marital arts training.
One of the great things about midlife, at least for me, is that I have lost any desire to impress anyone. The people I tried to impress, which I confused with gaining respect, either couldn’t be impressed, at least by me (usually for reasons that had little nothing to do with my or their actual accomplishments) or, I would realize, weren’t worth the effort.
What I haven’t expected is something I experienced today with that man: I was surprised that he actually saw something I did as out-of-the-ordinary, let alone worthy of praise. He, and others I’ve met during the past couple of years, like “Sam” and “Carrie,” have life experiences very different from mine and have done things that, while they don’t confer status, are things I’m not sure I could have done.
I pedaled “only” to Randall’s Island today. But it turned out to be just the right ride.
