Mind over obsession - the bike ride I almost missed

7-28-13
I live near a river, and by good fortune I also live close to one of those bike paths that used to be a train track.  The path winds down in a gentle slope from my house (which is awesome on the downhill start of my ride, but killer on the uphill end of my ride) down to the river.  The path goes through a beautiful wooded area, then follows the curve of the river.  Ducks and geese graze (DO ducks and geese graze?) along the side of the path.  Hawks circle overhead, and children play and scream and laugh on the playgrounds that I pass.  Teenagers sneak a smoke on the path in little clusters.  

It sounds idyllic, doesn't it?  But when I went riding yesterday, I missed all of it.  I was deep in thought about a personal issue.  I was turned it round and round in my head, chewed it over, replayed scenes in my head that were distressing, and imagined all kinds of troubling potential outcomes to my problem.  In short, I was obsessing.  It's funny how I can be in the thick of obsessing and not even know it.  Why is that?  Because that's just what my brain does.  It always has.  It's my normal.  My default setting.  Comfortable, but not really.  

But I caught it - caught the obsessive loop mid bike ride.  I stood back and realized that I was drowning in a whirlpool of troubling thoughts that spun around me.  I shut my eyes for just a moment. (Just a quick moment since I was speeding along a bike path - I didn't want to fling myself into the river and end my ride with a swim.)  

Now, one thing I am learning is that pulling myself out of that whirlpool is not easy, but it can be done.  (I didn't believe that when I was younger, but I do now.)  It's not enough to shut my eyes and turn my head away from the troubling thoughts (the way a baby turns away from a spoonful of mashed peas - lips pursed, face all scrunched up).  I have to replace those thoughts with other thoughts.  I try to find something positive to obsess about.  As I write this I'm realizing how strange that sounds.  Or, ideally, I try to just be where I am.  

I keep reading bits and pieces about mindfulness - the ability to be fully alive in the moment.  I intend to keep reading up about it - but on this bike ride, I thought I'd give it a try.  It was the perfect summer day in the midwest - 75 and low humidity - a respite from the stinky hot humid days we 'd been having.  I focused on that, and on the sun sparkling on the river, and the winding, wooded path, and cool breeze on my face under the shadows of the trees.  I passed the screaming, laughing children under the watchful eyes of their mothers who chatted together on benches.  I skirted around the huddles of teenagers, and got close enough to smell the cigarette cloud that clung to their clothing and hair.  I passed the grazing geese and ducks and watched their babies peck at the foliage by the river, and wondered if "graze" was the right word for what they were doing.  It felt good - really, really good.  I am lucky that in my world I'm usually pretty safe.  (It's not that way for many in this world, and my heart aches for those people.)  If my head stays with the rest of me, it should follow that I shouldn't be so worried, shouldn't it?