No one did that for me, so why do that for them?
My friend was way ahead. I had lost sight of him on the trail. Anxiety crept in. Will I know which turn to take when I get to the next intersection? This was common on rides. He was always faster than me. I wanted to be as fast as him. I wanted to be able to keep up, to be included. I was too unsure of myself, when I caught up winded, to ask for him to slow down. "How dare I ask him to slow down?," I thought.
Maybe this is how my relationship with my dad was. I wanted to be included in what he was doing. He never asked me to come along. He was always keeping to himself. In sight mind you, but miles away. Where was he?
Now I ride alone. I see a cyclist up the road and its on. My heart pounds. I tense up. I pour myself out onto the pedals. Is he/she is my dad. I will catch up. I will blow by them. I will make them say who is that, look how fast he is!
I can't wait to get home and tell my dad how my ride was. How good of a rider I have become.My dad taught me to ride when I was 6. It was the last meaningful thing he taught me. He was an alcoholic.
My dad died several years ago. Cancer. He smoked right up until he wasn't healthy enough to do it. I had no relationship with him. I felt hollow when he was dying. He lived like he was hollow. At least in front of me.
I am looking for him still. I am looking for him inside me. I am disconnected from others, hiding inside myself. Hiding inside my bike rides. Alienated, alienating.