Two weeks ago I got on a bike for the first time since middle school.

For weeks, by body was craving to ride a bike. It wanted movement.
It wanted to feel. It wanted to do something for the first time again.
It wanted to teach me a lesson.

It happened organically.

I was up in Albany for some events, and a friend invited me to dinner. Her house was quite magical. It was hidden behind and surrounded by beautiful fall foliage. It had a big open space to run, to relax, to play.

View from her backyard.

View from her backyard.

As I waited for dinner to be ready, I noticed that she had bikes in her backyard. Unbeknownst to me, her family were all bikers.

“This is my lucky day,” I thought to myself!

Her son was kind enough to get a bike ready for me and without hesitation I got on.

Let me take a moment to say this: getting on the bike was a task on its own. I felt butterflies flying in my stomach. I felt like I was in middle school again. The awkward shyness mixed with senseless giggles came over my body.

“Oh my god! Am I truly feeling nervous? Am I afraid?”

You guys, I was hesitant to get on a bike. I could not believe that this grown woman was afraid to ride a bike! What a punch for my ego.

I looked at her son and told him to stop looking at me. Mentally, I was transported back to the stage of “boys have cooties, and I’m scared of everything.” I didn’t want to be seen or caught in my failure. I judged the situation too soon.

I took a deep breath and tried to put both feet on the pedal.

Epic fail.

I awkwardly smiled as I thought- “Did I really forget how to do this? Get it together girl.”

I tried again and managed to put both feet up. I moved for two seconds and slanted towards the side. I used my feet as breaks so that I would not tumble on the ground.

“Crap. Come on Eliana. You need to get this.”

It took what felt like hours for me to finally get the hang of peddling. I couldn’t believe it. It was steady. It felt exhilarating. It was slow. I re-learned how to ride a bike.

I reached the end of the street and turned around to do it all over again. I went back and forth on this long strip like a paintbrush stroking a wall. It was glorious.

As I was peddling and the cold air was in my face, I heard this small voice say:

“This is what being present feels like.”

I smiled so hard. I felt like a boy just kissed my cheeks for the first time. At that momentI understood why my body had been craving to ride a bike. It had a loving reminder for me.

♥ Being present is fully embracing the moment in front of you. ♥

It’s acknowledging your different emotions of fear, doubt, insecurity, or even joy. It’s grabbing the handles of life and peddling, one foot at a time. It’s breathing through the emotions.

I was so grateful for that moment and realized that I want more. I want my life to be made up of moments that cause me to be present. My body is smart. It knew it all along, and it wanted to remind me the importance of being present.

Now it’s your turn. Let’s talk.

When was the last time you did something for the first time and had a similar experience?

What did life show you? Comment below and share with your friends if ya want to. 🙂

Pin It on Pinterest

Work with me

I'm on a mission to create a movement of young women who live with purpose and are madly in love with life!

Sign up to get my weekly love notes, sent with a smile.

You have Successfully Subscribed!