Scott’s description of our first day (in this blog post) is exactly what was happening… on the outside. For me, the challenge was mostly internal, at least in the days before and especially on the way to the Rose Bowl.
I like control. I like to see where I’m going. I like to know when to stop, and I like to start when I feel it’s OK to start.
Those concepts: out the window.
Underneath those somewhat fundamental issues, there was other stuff. Do I want to spend this much time with this one person? Do I trust this person to not kill us? Do I trust me to not kill us either? More than all of that… was the fear I would let Scott down. That I wouldn’t be able to detach enough, be skilled enough, relax enough, be strong enough. That I, basically, wouldn’t be good enough.
Scott’s ridden a bazillion miles, over all sorts of terrain, in all sorts of conditions. He’s a guy. He’s always been atheletic, or at least athletic enough. Me? I’m pushing 70 (thank you for that phrase, Scott) as opposed to 30 (like when we first started being friends) and I only started doing this kind of riding about 10 years ago. I had to confront head on my need to be accepted, and was grappling with why I needed that so badly, and why not being accepted was so, well… totally unacceptable to me.
All of that before we ever got on the damn thing.
But here’s the thing: Scott’s a very good teacher, and also (except for when he isn’t) a very sweet guy. The simple process of starting and rolling calmed me down. All the new inside-out say-everything-you’re-doing rules actually captivated my brain and gave it an anchor to grab on to. Once I realized I could do this and that I could start trusting him, I relaxed a bit. (And, as an aside, it is VERY unnerving when someone knows you’re freaking out before you do. He can feel my body tense up and hears it in my voice. Jury’s still out whether it’s reassuring or invasive.) By the time we were able to pedal and do some figure eights around the parking lot I started to get the bigger picture. Aside from the trust thing, the lack of visibility, the constant communication, and the extreme proximity to another person — it was FUN. Like… fun fun. Like fun enough to go around the Rose Bowl fun.
So we did that.
And the next day I got Covid, which, you know, put the brakes on things… but we had started. And the biggest hurdle—my brain—was starting to get the point.
I like what you guys are doing . . . learning how to effectively communicate. It certainly transcends riding a tandem bike. It kind of reminds me of my marriage, which, by the way, is a good thing. Remove the apprehension and anxiety, make sure we are on the same page and cooperating. Thanks for this.
Thanks for the nice thoughts Bob. Rick, who designed the Tango we’re riding, suggests that people who are thinking of getting married should try riding a tandem first, because uf they can’t work it out, well . . . I’m not sure that’s great advice, but you get the point.