Ten Thousand Miles

The day I bought the bike (bottom), and 10,000 miles later (Top).

Yesterday, I passed a milestone, 10,000 miles on my motorcycle. Just under two years ago, I decided to learn to ride, and almost as soon as I started, I nearly quit.

I got thrown off the bike in day one of classes and scared the hell out of myself, and my instructors. That night I made the decision to finish the class, get my license and become a competent rider. Only then would I allow myself to quit riding IF I decided it wasn't for me. I would not let fear be the deciding factor.

Twenty one months ago I bought my bike and began riding daily. First in parking lots, then the mile and half to work, then longer. The first time on a highway above 35 mph, the wind, the speeding cars, the huge trucks, was terrifying. Now its routine.

I ride alone, I didn't have buddies or a club to ride with, so it was a few months before I felt confident enough to venture OTP. By the end of the summer I took my day trip, 200 miles. There's a special kind of courage to wonder out into the unknown alone. You have to have confidence in yourself that you can handle whatever comes your way.

I still ride every day. Every step out my door is preceded by the question: Can I ride the bike? Rain, sub freezing temps and the need to carry anything that won't fit in my backpack are usually the only things that answer that question with a "no."

Now I've done ten thousand miles! (On a bike that only saw 2,000 per year before I got it.) Riding through the steep hills and curves of the North Georgia mountains yesterday, still gave me moments of anxiety and challenge. Finding the right gear, leaning a little more, remembering to brake before the curve, NOT in it, managing front and rear brakes -- Riding take thought and purpose and skill.

But unlike two years ago, I didn't have the terror in the pit of my stomach. I knew that if I went down, I would survive. Ego, and probably body, bruised, but I could handle it, because I'd handled everything the road had thrown at me for 10,000 miles.

I give myself permission to quit riding now.

But I choose to continue anyway. Its who I am now, its a way of life for me now.

I'm also reminded now, that I'm entering my third year of riding -- The most dangerous years. Riders in their third year are the most likely to have an accident, more than cautious newbies, and far, far more than seasoned vets who continue on beyond year three.

I told myself, when I began, that I would remain cautious through this year, that I would not let hubris bring me to tragedy.

I see other riders in shorts and t-shirts, in minimal helmets, no gloves, etc. I feel the heat in the summer and think it would be great to go without a jacket, that my boots are thick and hot -- That I don't look "cool." But I also know the cost of a small mistake without protection can be huge, and that even if I do it all right, someone else might hit me, or a mechanical failure could bring me down hard.

I ride to feel alive, I do not want to die doing it... Or get maimed or crippled. I realize I always run that risk, but there's no need to multiply.

So I enter my third year of riding with a renewed sense of purpose to my riding. To get better. Be more aware, become more skillful, to push my limits more.

And I ride on.

Suches Loop and Unexpected Challenges

At Neels Gap, GA, almost finished with the Suches Loop, before I got really challenged.

Yesterday I passed 7000 miles of riding since I bought my motorcycle last year. I guess 7000 isn't really a milestone, but I did pass it while on a day trip to Suches Loop in the north Georgia mountains. The Loop is 11 miles of winding mountain roads that involves 318 curves, its sometimes called the "Georgia's Dragon's Tail."

I had the day off, and the weather was looking perfect, so I took the opportunity to drive the two hours north of Atlanta to experience the loop for my first time. I went solo, as always, I don't have any close friends in Atlanta that ride. Heading out solo on a motorcycle for any distance away from home always produces some anxiety. But it also creates a real feeling of accomplishment when you get home. 

I was a little anxious about this trip. Curves are one of the funnest parts of riding, but also can be the most challenging, especially when faced with back-to-back curves, sloping roads, blind curves around cliffs and through woods, long drop offs, narrow roads, down hill sharp curves, spots of gravel and whatever else the world wants to throw at you. Driving a bike through such roads takes focus and really test the skills of an inexperienced rider. Which is what I was looking for. 

Despite the perfect weather forecast, I did decided to take along my chaps and a rain liner for my Kevlar mesh jacket (it provides protection in a slide, but no protection from rain without a liner). It was a good call.

About 30 minutes from my destination, in the middle of nowhere, under mostly blue skies, a cloud decided to open up and dump buckets on me. Fortunately, I could see it coming about a half mile off and was able to pull off on a side road under a tree for some shelter. I pulled on my rain gear and saw blue skies ahead, so I pulled back out onto the four lane state road and continued on. 

I hate riding in rain. I avoid as much as possible. Besides just being uncomfortable, its scary. Helmets don't have windshield wipers, so visibility is impaired along with tire traction, and braking becomes far more dependent on the less powerful rear brakes. I've gotten caught out in the rain a few times, but only on city streets. The worst was in stop and go traffic, where I basically just got soaked for an hour. This was my first time riding on a highway at speed in the rain. Fortunately, traffic was light and the road was long and fairly straight.  

A few minutes later, the rain stopped and I kept riding until I was dry. Challenge faced and conquered! On to the curves!

I stopped for gas and headed into the mountains, north of Dehlonega, GA. The Appalachian Trail passes through this area. Its mostly national forest and park, lots of green trees, parting for occasional overlooks -- and LOTS of curves. 

The first stretch wasn't bad. I arrived at Two Wheels of Suches, a burger joint and camp ground for bikers only. What I didn't know was that the restaurant was only open Friday through Sunday, so I wasn't going to get the burger I had planned on. Having missed my chance for lunch in Dehlonega, I opted for a soda and candy bar from the gas station across the road and figured I'd get food after finishing the loop. There really weren't any other options. 

I headed up Wolf Pen Gap Road, the heart of the loop. This is a well maintained, if narrow, two lane road where the curves come fast, with banked roads, steep drop offs, switchbacks, steep dropping curves and lots blind curves. It was challenging, constantly managing the brakes and shifting up and down between 2nd and 3rd gear to manage speed and power as I went up hills, then engine braked on steep declines. 

One of the most critical skills of motorcycle riding is managing brakes and turning. Bikes have separate front and rear brakes, which affect the handling of the bike differently, and which must be handled differently in the event of a skid. Braking and turning both require increased traction, and tires only have so much traction to use. You cannot brake hard while turning, that's a good way to wreck. One of the cardinal rules of motorcycle riding is brake before the curve, accelerate (slightly) through the curve. Needless to say, coordinating both brakes, gears and throttle through constantly changing directions and elevations tests ones ability to keep it all upright. 

Add in the distraction of cliff faces and long drop offs, plus on coming traffic and you have another issue: Target fixation. One truism of riding is that the bike goes where you look. If you get fixed on looking at something that scares you, like an on coming car as you go around a curve, your body unconsciously tends to steer the bike toward the car... Or off the cliff, or where ever it is your mind and eyes have fixated.  This is the mental, and emotion challenge, of riding something like the Suches Loop. In my opinion, its the more critical part of the equation. You must be in control of your mind.

I'm proud to say I managed it all, including a few unexpected things, like spotting a gravel patch at the apex of a downhill set of switchbacks, which I had to navigate around at the last second while avoiding an oncoming car that was very close to the yellow line, with a drop off on my right. A scary moment, but I was impressed with how calmly and smoothly I handled it. Of course, my instant of self-congratulations was short lived because I had to immediately lean the bike the other ways and enter the next curve. Focus.

At the end of Wolf Pen Gap Road, I turned south onto Georgia 19, which is still a curvy mountain road, but wider (three lanes in some places) and most of the curves are not as intense. Following this up hill, I finally stopped at Neels Gap, the top of the mountain, for a scenic over look and to stretch my legs and hips. 

The view from Neel Gap, GA

From there, I figured it was relatively easy riding to the bottom and on to lunch. I head down through more curves. But those fluffy clouds had other plans, and I found myself looking down hill, into steep declining curves on fairly new (read "slick") black top as rain began to fall.

It was the kind of rain that you see like a curtain crossing the road ahead. Only I didn't see it until I rounded a curve and it was right there, and I didn't have time to stop. I found a spot to pull off under a tree where it seemed a little dryer to decide what to do.

Decision time: Wait it out, or make for the blue sky in the distance.

I had two choices, wait it out under the tree (which wasn't providing much protection), or brave the wet, curvy mountain roads to try to get out from under it. I could see blue sky not far away, but with all the switchback on the road, who know how far the drive actually was?

I decided to ride and face my fear. I knew the real risks were higher than on dry road, but I also knew they were not as high as my anxiety riddled brain was screaming. I had learned, and had some practice, with rain riding techniques and the roads were mostly free of other cars, so I set out.

Ten minutes or so later, I was on dry pavement that hadn't seen a drop all day. I had faced the challenge and over come it.

Challenges come in different ways in life. Riding a motorcycle, like many other things, is objectively a skill that anyone can learn. Taken in progressive steps and with practice, the skill can be mastered. But the real challenge is overcoming your fear. Your mind gets filled with images and ideas of everything that can go wrong, and you think about that, instead of what you need to do to be safe.

I chose to ride the Suches Loop to challenge my fears. I knew I was capable of riding curves. I wasn't trying to take them at full speed or prove what a bad ass I was. I just wanted to prove to myself that I had the skills and experience to take curve after curve after curve, of all variety of sizes, slopes, lengths, diameters, etc. And I did, the small fears of falling, of skidding, etc, that I feel every time I get on the bike were still there, I just had to push them down and focus on the task, like I do every time.

But the unexpected challenge of rain... That brought up a whole other level of fear. I would not have faulted myself if I decided to wait it out. It wasn't what I had set out to do, I had not mentally prepared myself for it, and it wasn't "do or die." I 'm glad I decided to face that fear, too.

There are challenges in life that we choose, like riding the Loop, and there are those life chooses for us, like riding in the rain. But a challenge is a challenge, whether we choose it or not, it is faced the same way: with courage and thought. Courage to acknowledge your fear, and thought to navigate the challenge safely.

The more challenges I set for myself in life, the more easily I find I can overcome the ones life throws at me. And that is how I create an amazing and interesting life for myself.

This is How I Learn... Everything

I'm sure it hasn't escaped my one reader, who ever that is, that my motorcycle is at the core of this blog. It wasn't meant to be that way, but the two came into my life at about the same time, so there it is. If this blog goes on long enough, that may change, but until then...

I've been struggling with getting my carburetor tuned properly. Since wrapping the exhaust pipes and removing the airbox, there have been issues. Mileage has decreased significantly, there has been "popping" in the exhaust when I throttle down, power at first seemed to increase, but has since declined, power does not increase smoothly as I throttle up... I could probably go on, but those are the main things.

So I've been approaching it from different directions. Trying different tuning approaches from various sources, some solved some issues, but increased others. Nothing seemed to solve them all, which proper tuning should do. I initially looked at all the issues from the perspective of how they related to the air-fuel mix, but when that continued to yield unsatisfactory results, I changed my approach.

Last week, I took one obvious symptom, the popping, and searched to see what other issues it might arise from. It turns out, it could also result from a poor seal between the cylinders and the exhaust pipes. Since I've removed the pipes several times and never replaced the gaskets (they're supposed to be replaced every time! opps!) I ordered new ones. (BTW, exhaust is closely related to the air-fuel mix, so this would be a contributing factor that needed to be fixed in order to get tuning corrected.)

They arrived today, so I set out to replaced the old ones... Only there weren't any. Apparently, I either lost them without noticing (unlikely) or the previous owner didn't replaced them when they put after-market pipes on the bike. Whatever. I put the new gaskets in, and the popping stopped. So I tuned the carburetor following the factory recommended procedure, using a new digital tachometer I also bought (my bike does not have one of its own) and got better performance immediately.

But now there's another problem... maybe. When my initial problems began, one mechanic suggested increasing the main jet size, so I did. It didn't make sense at the time, but I knew less then. Now I know that that may be the cause of my reduced fuel economy, So I have to go back, remove the carb and reinstall the smaller jet.

All this trial and error is annoying, but I realize its also the way I tend to approach and learn everything I do. I jump in, tear things apart, fuck with what's working, generally mess it up, and try to get it back into equilibrium, only different from how it started. Its messy and time consuming, and I tend to go over somethings dozens of times. But in the end, I understand them, and know things I wouldn't have if I hadn't been so messy about it.

I've never been one to just accept what I'm told, I need to know why. If I wanted to be a mechanic professionally, I would got to school for it, and dig very deep into the how and why of all these things. I'm not going pro, so the time and money for school aren't in the cards. But, I am giving myself a useful education on this particular subject, and it will be followed by another.

I did this with carpentry, with bartending, with writing, working on my car (fuel injected, not carbureted, or I'd already know this stuff), and with scores of other things in my life. If you were to study my relationships, you probably see that the numerous long and short term relationships also fall into that pattern (not on purpose, but still probably true).

This is how I learn -- by doing. By getting dirty, and making it real and tangible, not theory.

My Rules for a Fulfilling LIfe

"So what do you do when you get to that point in life where you don't have anything to live for anymore. Or you feel like you have no purpose, except to go to work?"

That's the question a friend of  mine asked on Facebook the other day, and it struck me, not because I feel that way, but because I don't. In fact, I had to think really hard to remember a time when I did feel that way. Which made me wonder why I don't feel that way, because I know its a common thing for a lot of people.

Years and years ago, when I became a single father, I decided to make being present as a father my priority, over making more money to give my child a "better" life. At the time, I was struggling to survive on $250 a week with a kid. I told my employer I would not work past 5pm or on weekends. At first is was really hard, but eventually, that choice led me to work with people who supported the decision and that turned into a work life and eventually a business that supported me as a single father. 

Fatherhood was the reason I had, but I don't believe its the cause for my having the fulfilled life I do now. I used fatherhood as a socially acceptable reason to not bow to the pressure to work more and more and to make money a priority for my existence, but one does not need to be a parent to make those choices.

I joke that I have a lousy work ethic. I want to work as little as possible to have a life I enjoy, and I don't want to work now, so I can have a good life later, I want it now. Over the years, I've developed strategies and habits that have helped me create a life I truly enjoy on a daily basis. In simple terms, here's my "rules" for a happy daily life (in no particular order):

• Get a job that inspires you. Sounds simple, but it might mean giving up your career, or not doing what you studied in college, and you might not even know what that job is! But if you're job doesn't regularly satisfy you on an emotional and intellectual level, get a new one, and keep moving until you find one that does. Some times its the job itself, other times its who you work with and for, and your ideal job might not be one your partner or friends or family think is "worthy" of you. Whatever it takes, do it, because you spend a third of your time at it, so make it rewarding.
• Don't work so much. Set boundaries with your job. What those are is up to you. Choose things outside of work that are more important to you, and make it clear to your employers that those come first. For me it was my son at first. Now its my free time, and certain events I want to attend, like Burning Man. Whatever those things are for you, set firm and reasonable expectations and stick with them. It can be hard to tell your boss "no," but if they respect you, together you can figure out how to make it work (and if they don't, then find another job).
• Get your finances in order. Many people think this means earning more money to afford things (which breaks the above rule), or cutting out fun things (which makes life pointless and dull), or both. Honestly, it depends on you and your particular situation, there's no single magic bullet for this. Having debts and worrying about your bills constantly erodes your quality of life on a daily basis. If you need help with this, seek it out, there are non-profit resources available. (I will write about my solution in another post)
• Try new things. New foods, new music, new ANYTHING. Develop the habit of saying yes, and don't be afraid to admit, after you tried it, that you didn't like it. Take pleasure in discovering something you didn't like! Take pride in saying "I tried it!" instead of being the person who sits back and shakes their head. It doesn't need to be big things, everything counts. 
• Learn new things, your way. Pick something you want to learn and start. Read books, take classes, watch online videos. Whatever, just get started. Anything counts. 
• Learn to quit. This is a big one. Our culture is big on finishing and following through and "quitters never win, and winners never quit!" Its bullshit. A wise person knows when something isn't working, and changes course. If you don't like the class you're taking, stop. If you're job isn't fulfilling, look for a new one. If you always wanted to ride motorcycles, and after a ride or two decide its not what you thought it was, then stop. There is no shame in having tried and realized its not your thing. The only shame is in not having tried. This applies to relationships, too. Don't stay in one that isn't working, no matter how long you've been in it. Not everything is meant to last forever, move on.
• Be selfish. Two of the most acceptable reasons for anything you do need to be "I want to" and "I don't want to." This doesn't mean be a self-centered person, it means not to be entirely other-people-centered. Find balance, and include yourself in your choices. You have to stop viewing your life as other people might see it. In today's world, people tend to think other people's lives are amazing because of their posts on social media, and you might want your life to seems amazing to. That's living for other people. If you love sitting on the couch reading, just do that. It won't look awe inspiring on social media, but it will make you happy.
• Take care of your health. A lot of things in life feel better when you're healthy. Just waking up is better when you're healthy, because you sleep better. You don't have to go nuts with a radical diet change or get a personal trainer. Start small and make little changes that will accumulate, but do something to improve your health, whatever it is now. 
• Reflect. "A life unexamined is not worth living." Think about your experiences, you choices, how they turned out and what you can learn from them. Again, even the little things count. You will learn about yourself, and that will guide you to a more fulfilling life. 

In a nut shell, that's it. I could expand all that into a book (maybe I should!), but in essence, that's it. None of them is that difficult on their own, and chances are you already do some of them. Together they will improve your life exponentially.

The fact is, having a fulfilling life is not a difficult thing. We are built to be in love with life. We just get caught up thinking that we are supposed to be happy doing what makes other people happy, and that's not true. How boring the world would be if we all like the same things! What would we talk about? Seek out YOUR happy life, don't try to replicate someone else's.

If you're feeling like you lack direction in your life, you don't need to make a radical change. Just commit to making a small change every day.

There's a parable about a prince, who decided he would toss a pebble, every day, into the river he walked past daily. At first is seemed like nothing, and he did it. Eventually, he thought it was pointless, and he considered stopping, but his mentor convinced him to keep it up. Over time, the pebbles accumulated, into a large pile in the river, which noticeably changed the course of the river. The tiny daily effort of the prince built into a big change. That is how you build a fulfilling life from where you are, with a small consistent effort. 

Midlife San Crisis

I spent yesterday and this morning working on my motorcycle. A month or so ago I wrapped the exhaust pipes in fiberglass, the result was a change in the tuning of the bike, it didn't run as smooth and my mileage dropped from over 50 mpg to about 40. I understood why, it had to do with trapping more heat in the pipes and increasing back pressure and blah, blah, blah.

I knew I'd have to make changes to the carburetor,Yesterday I installed a velocity stack and re-jetted the carb (see post here if you want details), but by the end of the day, after about 30 miles of riding and tuning I still couldn't get it quite right. Carburetor tuning is a tricky thing, and I'd never done it before, every car I ever owned had fuel injection.

This morning, I pulled the carb off again, opened it up and changed one of the jets again. Once it was back in, it only took a few miles of riding to get it tuned right and the bike was riding like it hasn't in weeks. I took it out around town and put another 30 miles on it just for the pure joy of riding. Neighborhoods, city streets, highways, stop and go, cruising, throttle wide open, working smoothly up through the gears or full throttle, 1-2-3-4! Just riding my ride.

There's nothing quite like riding a motorcycle, especially one that's running perfectly, doubly so for one that you've been elbow deep inside to make it your own. Which is what brought me to where I am now, writing this.

When I was a kid, in the late seventies, Star Wars was a big deal for me, I owned dozens of the toys. But my fondest memories were of riding my bike down the street to the community college and scavenging cardboard from the dumpsters to build my own space ships and secret bases for my Star Wars figures. As cool as the manufactured ones seemed on TV, they never lived up to my expectations, but when I built something out of cardboard and glue, it never failed to be prefect -- at least in my eyes.

It was about that time I first heard the phrase "mid-life crisis." I was a pre-teen and it didn't mean that much to me, I just knew adults said it half jokingly when ever someone's father bought a sports car, or some other "toy."

Eventually, I came to recognize it as meaning a man, usually  in his late 40's or early 50's, who society believes is trying to relive his youth through flashy cars and younger women and generally "not acting his age." People said it behind some poor guy's back and giggled at him. Its a derogatory term, and one I've come to believe completely misses the truth for many men of every age.

Underlying the "juvenile" behavior of such men is an assumption about what they should be doing, how they should behave, and what should make them happy. Which is backed by the blanket assumption that everyone should be fulfilled and satisfied by a fairly limited set of ideals, usually career, wife, kids, house and a week or two of vacation every year -- The one-size-fits-all life path.

My life never followed that exact path, but then I never wanted it to. My life also didn't follow the path I wanted for a long time, either. At 20 I became a father, by 23 I was a single father. By the time I was 30, I owned my own growing business and was raising a school aged child on my own (not to dismiss the help and support of my family, just saying I didn't have a wife or girlfriend living with me to share the responsibilities or financial burden.) At 33 I bought a house. I had a career, a family, a house, I took a couple vacations, life was good.

But it was not fulfilling.

That's not to say I was miserable all the time, there is a lot of gray area between utter and complete misery, and blissful happiness, I liked my job, most of the time, I had a good set of friends, I had hobbies I enjoyed. But I didn't have the freedom I expected of my life when I was younger.

Having a child, particularly alone, limits your freedom, and freedom is what I wanted from life. Freedom to explore, to be creative, to try new things, go new places -- to walk away from whatever wasn't fulfilling me. You can't do that when you have a child. Sure, you can do some things, but if those aren't the things that fulfill you (and they mostly weren't) then you're stuck.

When my son left for college, I left all that behind. The house, the business, the Midwest, I walked away from it all and started over with a girl half my age in a new city. I stumbled around for a few years, broke, often unhappy, not sure where I was headed, but oddly fulfilled. Even in my misery I was fulfilled.

For the last few years I've pursued things that interest me for as long as they interest me. Sometimes I walk away from them because I loose interest, but at least I know that it wasn't for me, because I tired. I tend bar and sleep til noon, I have no drive to buy another house or have an expensive car (I love my beat up old Jeep!) I bought a motorcycle at 44 years old, I go out drinking with 20-somethings and party til dawn frequently. I usually work 3 or 4 days a week, and don't care about "career advancement" because I don't want the responsibilities, I'd rather have time to take day trips or tinker on a project in the middle of the week.

If I were 25 this kind of behavior would be expected. People would say I was getting it out of my system or sewing my oats before I settled down. At 45 many surely point and giggle and whisper "mid-life crisis," behind my back.They're wrong.

In fact, I think for most men hung with that label, its wrong. The simplified mold doesn't fit us all. I never wanted a wife and kids and career, my mother will tell you I said as much in kindergarten (I wanted to be like my Uncle Jimmy!), I might not have expressed it as clearly then, but I felt it.

The crisis in my life came when I had to fit at least part of that mold. I had to settle down into an existence I was told should fulfill me, and yet I was unfulfilled. For years -- more than a decade -- I believed there was something wrong with me, that I wasn't happy because there was some flaw in my psyche. If I could only let go of my foolish ideals, and "grow up," I could be happy.

I now believe that many men go through life equally as unfulfilled, but due to the emotional self-castration our culture forces on boys, they never even face the empty feelings they have. Some drink or do drugs, others are abusive, others quietly retreat into silence in front of the TV or spectator sports (believing they're too old to participate). They either wither and die inside, or they rage and seek escape in unhealthy ways.

Until the day comes when enough is enough and they leave part or all of it behind, seeking to find the happiness they once knew in their youth by doing the things they did in their youth. Where else would you start looking for happiness than where you last felt it?

At these times they no longer identify with the man they've tried to become, they seek a new identity, their authentic identity, the one they've been told is wrong for all their lives. And our culture calls them fools, and laughs at them for it. We laugh at them for trying to be happy -- for not finding happiness where we told them they must.

This is why I reject the idea of a mid-life crisis. Its not a crisis, its a self-rescue from a quiet, desperate crisis one has been living for years, perhaps decades.

Not everyone finds happiness in the same things, and that's ok. My happiness is not a threat or invalidation to yours. If what fulfills me doesn't fulfill you, then go find your own way, and I'll find mine. The sooner, and younger, you find the courage to walk away from things that don't fulfill you, and to admit to the world your path is different, the happier you'll be, even if its a difficult path. (This goes for men and women, by the way.)

As I cruise by on my motorcycle and flirt with that 20-something girl, you may giggle, but you shouldn't, because at least I'm trying. I may find these things don't fulfill me ultimately, or having satisfied the desire, I may move on to something else equally as funny to you, but at least I tried, and I know and don't wonder anymore.

I've been elbow deep in my own life (and will be many more times, I expect), tinkering and modifying it to fit my tastes and trying to getting it running perfectly. As fun as riding a motorcycle is, nothing compares to riding a life that fulfills you.

The Daily Scare - Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love My Fear

"Do something every day that scares you."

 -- Mary Schmich

 (not Eleanor Roosevelt) 

This is a lesson I've tried to apply in my life for years, but its so general, that it can be difficult to understand exactly how to employ it. For me, it took learning to ride a motorcycle to finally crystallize in my mind the best way to really do this.

When I first heard this years ago, I thought it meant doing something NEW that scared me everyday. The problem with that, is that I tended to look for big, new things I hadn't done before and that becomes difficult to keep up. Often time, big things, like skydiving for example, take a lot of time and effort to set up and follow through on. Its impossible to do something like that every day. 

This spring, I decided it was time I learned to ride a motorcycle, which is a big thing, not an every day level activity. It was something I'd long wanted to do, and had made various excuses to put it off for years. That time was over, the time to do it had come. So I signed up for an MSF class. I bought a riding jacket, complete with armor pads to protect myself, and ridding gloves. I had ankle height hiking boots, to protect my feet, so I was good to go. The class provided the helmets and motorcycles. 

The day of the class I was a little nervous, but mostly excited, and I expected to do well. I'd studied all my materials, read the course book cover to cover. I'm in good shape, generally athletic, and I got a good night's sleep. I was ready. 

The class consisted of classroom and practical riding on a closed parking lot. The classroom work was easy for me, I'd read the whole book, I knew the materials. The riding seemed easy at first, too. We started with starting the bike.

That sounds simple, but its a little more complicated than starting a car. Everything on a motorcycle comes with a higher price of failure. You're not protected by a metal cocoon with airbags and safety belts. You DO have several hundred pounds of metal and plastic between your legs capable of moving very quickly. Pop the clutch in a car and the car jumps and lurches and stalls and its embarrassing. Pop the clutch on a motorcycle and it could go rocketing off, possibly with you on it, out of control until it falls over, possible with you still on it. You could not only break the bike, bending the handle bars, scratching the paint, etc., you could hurt yourself or someone else very seriously. So you take extra steps with everything.

By the time we broke for lunch we were cruising around the lot in first gear, everything was fine. 

After lunch, things were getting more and more complicated, each skill building on the last. As we started up the bikes and moved out to line up for the next skill, I accidentally throttled the bike hard. I began to panic, but followed my instructor's first lesson, "The clutch is your friend." So I pulled the clutch. With the throttle open, the engine revved up high, screaming loudly and terrified me. The bike was still rolling, and I was panicked. I didn't think the clutch was working, so I let it out to try it again. 

Letting the clutch out with the engine racing on a 300cc sport bike is the perfect recipe for a wheelie, which is exactly what the bike did. The front wheel popped up, straight up into the air, throwing me off like a bucking bronco, and sending the bike careening forward into a fence. Fortunately, no one else was hurt. 

The incident scared the living shit out of me. My instructors nearly bounced me from the class, rightfully so. I was boarder-line, I was becoming a danger to myself and others. Nervously, I finished the day, having lost confidence in myself, I was re-thinking the entire motorcycle idea. Maybe this wasn't for me? Maybe I should stick to cars?

I showed up the next day and finished the class. Still anxious about the power of the bike, I was cautious about everything I did. I passed the written exam with a perfect score and got the lowest possible score on the practical riding exam to pass. Literally, one point lower and I would have failed. 

Humbled, I headed home. I stopped on the way home and bought a helmet. Leaving the class I wasn't sure I was going to continue riding, but spending a couple hundred dollars on a good helmet would force me to keep going. I made the decision that when I learned to ride safely and confidently, then I could quit. Buying the helmet was a commitment to that. I would prove I COULD do it, then not doing it would be a choice rather than a default.

A week or so later, new license in hand, I went to buy my first motorcycle, a used cruiser. Less powerful than the sport bike I'd learned on, but bigger. When I took it for a test ride around the owner's neighborhood, I did a similar thing to the accident in class. I lost control and ditched it in someone's front yard. No one saw me, the bike was fine, so I rode it back and bought it. 

I had a buddy drive it home a few days later. I was not ready for the 45 minutes on the highway. I'd never been out of 2nd gear before. 

Now I had a motorcycle. I'd been reading books about riding skills and safety for two weeks. I'd been listening to pod casts on the same subjects, and watching videos online.Now I had to put it into practice.

My first day out, I carefully rode it to a near by parking lot and began drilling the basic skills. Breaking, low speed cornering, clutching... Over and over and over. 

The next day, I woke up, had breakfast and headed out to do the same thing. The only road time the bike saw that first week was the mile and a half to the parking lot and back, at no more than 25 miles an hour. Then I began riding it to work and back, 2 miles each way. Then touring around town, even getting up into third gear. Every day I pushed a little harder. Every couple days I was back in a parking lot drilling skills. 

40 mph was the the next big scare. There seemed to be a big change in the amount of wind between 35 and 40. It was pushing me harder, buffeting me and bike, trying to turn me and push me off the bike. It was loud and scary. But I got used to it. 

Then I took it out on a little stretch of highway, up to 65 miles an hour! What was slow driving speed for me in my car, was terrifying on a motorcycle. I made it to my exit 3 miles down, turned off, and limped home on surface roads, too scared to go back the way I came. 

But the next day I did it again. Then again. Then again. Reaching out further and further every time, 5 miles then 10. Then came the day I was comfortable at 65, so I took it out for day trip. 220 miles round trip on highways and state roads.  By the end of the day I was exhausted from tension, but I'd also had those moments of bliss just cruising with my machine, the moments every biker rides for.

Over the course of the summer I made a point to ride every single day. My bike is 2004 model, and had 24,600 miles on it when I bought. The previous owners had put about 2000 miles a year on it. By the time I left for my end of August vacation, I had ridden all but two day since buying it and logged over 3,500 miles. More miles in a three months than that bike usually saw a year, and more than many riders ride in a year. 

I made a point to push myself every day. Not to the point of utter terror. I learned to sense my own tension, and to just touch on it a bit every ride. Maybe go a little faster, or further, maybe find a curvy road and practice riding curves. I learned to recognize when a specific skill made me nervous and increased my tension level, like entering a tight turn, the I'd head to a parking lot drill that skill over and over.

I learned to see situations that made me uncomfortable, like fast traffic, and spend a part of each ride in that situation until I got more comfortable. I learned to look for trouble, and spot potential problems and look for escape routes just in case, and practice specific skills that would help in those situations, like swerving and emergency stopping. 

Then the day came when I was riding to a friend's house. I headed up the on-ramp to the highway, twisted the throttle open, shifted up through the gears, merged into traffic, slide over a lane, then another, then another, until I was in the HOV lane, sliding past cars. Only then did I look down and see I was up to 80 mph, buffeted by wind, cruising in heavy traffic, around bends in the highway, and feeling fine. I was alert, aware, but not worried, not tense.

I had done something every day that scared me. It was the same thing, riding a motorcycle, but it was also always a different thing, a new challenge, a little faster, a little further, ride the highway, ride the curves, brake harder, turn tighter. I learned to sense my fear, and to use it as a guide. I learned to read it, to know when it was telling me "this is what you need to practice," and when it was saying, "back off, take a break."

Looking back, I've applied this approach to a lot of things in my life, but I didn't realize it. Now that I do, I can continue to apply it, in a conscious way, from now on -- Doing something every day that scares me. But I learned something else when I learned to acknowledge my fears and to be guided by them.

I learned that the feeling I got that guided me to work on my turning skills, is the same feeling I get in other situations in life, like when I need to apologize to someone when I'm mad. Well, not exactly the same, but similar. That's a fear, too, fear of being vulnerable, of admitting wrong, of setting myself up to be yelled at and shamed. Doing those things also falls under the category of "things that scare me."

Doing something that scares me everyday turns out to be easier than I thought, because every day I find things that scare me, maybe even the same thing that scared me yesterday. It doesn't have to be a big thing, or something I planned. I just need to acknowledge that I am feeling fear, anxiety, uncertainty, and then understand that feeling and figure out if its telling me to move forward and grow, or to slow down and not push too hard. 

Everyone can see the use of using fear to learn a new skill. Now I can ride a motorcycle with confidence, and I have the sense to know when I should take it easy, and when I need to practice, but the end result is easy for everyone to see. Its measurable, demonstrable. 

The other kinds of things, the little daily fears that I use to guide me now, are not so easy for others to see, but the changes following them has made in me are no less an improvement in my life and in my character. I'm more open, more forgiving, more loving, I'm friendlier. 

So I have learned to embrace my fears, to feel them, to question them, and to follow them. Every day I do something that scares me, and that is changing who I am for the better.