One More Hill
By Colleen Edwards
The COVID pandemic fostered a lot of new hobbies for people—whether it was baking bread, going on long walks, or drinking at 11:00 am—people were stuck trying to figure out what to do.
Ironically, I was working in a bakery making sourdough bread before the pandemic began (I like to think I started the trend), but after our staff dwindled because of COVID, I decided to move back home with my parents in LA. I wanted to spend time looking for a more “adult, career-oriented job.” I broke my ankle on the last day of my job when I walked off a curb. Anyone who knows me was not shocked because I tend to be a clumsy person in general and I was due for another injury.
Loading the bikes up for an afternoon ride
Jobless and itching to try something that would get me out of the house without injuring my ankle further, I decided to take out my old college bike. I started riding it around the neighborhood just to get some fresh air.
My dad, Bruce, hadn’t ridden his mountain bike in years, but he decided to show me the ropes on my little road bike. He tuned up his old mountain bike and on our first ride, I swear we only lasted 10 minutes. The entire first month was brutal. We could barely last on a 20-minute ride around the neighborhood (to be fair, my parents’ house is up in the mountains and our neighborhood is mostly steep hills).
There’s something special about having the same struggle at the same time with another person. It brings you a little closer together.
I hated it at first. I had never done biking as a legitimate exercise before, and it was awful. I have always been an active person, but mountain biking is a different beast. There are so many different muscles that you have to train. The only reason I stuck with it was because it was something my dad and I were doing together.
After a couple months of torture, it finally started getting easier. We were able to actually head into the mountains and go on longer rides. I stopped wanting to cry every time I got on the bike. Little steps.
When I was growing up, my dad was a huge mountain biker and surfer. He has always been incredibly active, is still in great shape in his 60s, and has constantly encouraged my brother, sister, and me both in life and, specifically, in sports. We never missed a practice or game. We were expected to show up and give our 100% effort.
He has been one of my biggest influences in learning how to work hard for what you want in life. He taught me it’s about showing up and putting in the work to get what you want.
Mountain biking became special to me because every time we went out we became two old biker friends. My dad and I have always had a great relationship, but biking became something we loved and could do together as adults. We pushed each other (or rather he pushed me) to go on steeper hills and longer rides.
Riding dirt roads with Dad
No matter what though, after every ride, he made me feel proud of myself.
Dad has never been a wordy/affection/flowers-type when it comes to showing love, but all of us know how much he loves us through his actions. When my siblings and I were kids, he drove us to all our sports games and practiced with us for hours. Today, he still fills up the gas in our cars, always carries suitcases, brings in the trash cans, and carries the groceries. On special days, like when I have a big job interview, he always wears my college hat to show support. He allows my mom to take over the house with Christmas decorations. He shows me old movies and gives me the best books.
One time when he knew I was having a bad day, he bought me popcorn flavored jelly beans to try because I love candy.
I did not have a lot to feel accomplished about at this point in my life. I was back living at my parents house with no job and nothing to do. I drank wine at 3:00 pm every day because… COVID?
I was incredibly lucky. I know a lot of people don’t have this option when times get difficult. I felt even luckier because I actually really enjoy the company of my parents. They have become my best friends and ultimate supporters, and I am grateful for them every single day.
Regardless, I was 24, and being back at home was somewhere I didn’t think I was going to be at that point in my life. Getting on a bike every day was something I could feel good about when nothing else in my life was going the way I thought it would.
Biking became my thing.
Trying to go fast through painful experiences won’t help you in the end. You have to ride through the pain and feel every bit of it.
Even better, I got to bike with my dad, a guy who knew everything there was to know about the sport. One time towards the beginning of our training, I went way too fast up an incredibly steep hill. Once I got to the top, I almost toppled off my bike because I felt like I was going to faint. My dad went at a slower and steadier pace and saw my ghost face once he got to the top. I was laying in the grass and trying my hardest not to throw up. My low point: lying facedown on the grass in the middle of suburbia when a nice old couple with a tiny dog rushed up to ask if I was okay. I also drew the attention of many suburban moms passing by in their Teslas. I had quite the army surrounding me. Dad was laughing.
He offered me some guidance after I was done dying on the grass, “Colleen, the trick to mountain biking is keeping the same cadence and speed, even when the hills get steep.”
You want to make sure you are keeping the same pace, even at the more challenging points. I thought about that little piece of advice often in the months that I was living at my parents’ house. Even when life gets difficult, you have to make sure you are doing your best to keep up your pace. Trying to go fast through painful experiences won’t help you in the end. You have to ride through that pain and feel every bit of it. That has been one of the most important lessons throughout my life. There is absolutely no way to speed up how long pain will last.
“Only one more big hill, Colleen!”
Whenever he says this, I know we have about three more big hills to go… But sometimes it’s better to think there’s just one more obstacle ahead instead of multiple.
“It doesn’t get better than this”
Mountain biking forces you to stay in the moment. One wrong slip can flip you over your handlebars or off the other side of the mountain. It takes precision and focus. You have to ensure you are looking out for everything. It really helped my constantly overthinking mind to calm down and focus on, quite literally, what was right in front of me.
Honestly, going on bike rides with my dad became one of my favorite things. We became biking buddies. We laugh at the riders using their e-bikes to go up teeny hills. We stop at our break points and discuss the wind and weather and cars whizzing by. We make fun of the riders decked out in really expensive gear.
Now that I live in Chicago, whenever I visit LA the first thing we do is try and get on our bikes. We talk about dinner and friends and the awful weather (on my end). Everytime we get up into the mountain he says, “It doesn’t get better than this.” I always find myself agreeing with him.
Every time I go and visit home, I look forward to mountain biking with my dad. When I moved to Chicago after I got a job, I bought a cheap little exercise bike to have in my apartment when the cold winters hit.
It’s nowhere near the same. But I have to stay in shape to make sure Dad doesn’t kick my ass in the mountains when I go back home.
Colleen Edwards loves burritos, writing, and camping. She works for Chicago’s Homeless Coalition to find housing for people who are in need. She hopes to one day write for National Geographic. Follow her on Instagram: @colleenedwards
