This tandem it’s a little wise guy on two wheels. He knows how to teach me things about heart and life. With patience. He yanked me only at the beginning, but I blame Andre for it.
You know, the first kilometers I felt hard in the chest. I remember telling Andrei: “Please stop, I can’t go anymore.” I jumped out of the saddle, stretched out on the forest path and looked at the sky, breathing heavily. I felt like crying, but I bit my lips instead. It was too new, too against me. I didn’t have control, I could not see in front of me, pedals moved without me telling them, hills took me by surprise, so did the valleys, any curve staggered me and made me scream. Me. I. I was the one who cycled through the fields, through water and through tree roots, through plains full of cooled lava or through valleys with tumbled rocks. “I knew my shit!” as the English say. And now, look at me, I was as if out of the egg. So helpless and vulnerable. “I can’t go on, believe me, not your fault, I do not yell at you, do not want to fight, I just cannot, cannot anymore, it’s impossible, to hell with Tandem, what on Earth was into our heads? ”
It’s been a week since then. Earth has revolved several times around itself and … so have I. Eventually, I understood. I understood I do not have to bother with things I can’t control, I do not have to suffer because I see no twig or pebble in front of me, I must not forget to breathe because we go left or the road suddenly turns to the right. My energy is not useful in things upon which I have no power to change. “Just embrace it,” said one day a wise girl. And so I did.
Now I climb on the tandem like in a carriage. I do not play truant on pedaling, but I’ve learned not to care about things that CAN NOT do, but to enjoy those I can do. Now I focus on “feel” since the control is not on me. And what I get is a warm feeling of relief …
Oh, now I jump into the saddle laughing. “One, two, three … goo”! We set off and I stare left and right, no longer have I to watch the road, Andrei leads me. Now I can pedal without hands, so sometimes I raise them up over the head and enjoy the flight. Or I wave at the children and ring our bell like a rubicund bell. Now I can let my forehead on his back or I can tickle him when he teases me. Now I cannot shut up, I prattle and chatter. (Forgive me, Andrei!)
Now I know it’s not about what I cannot do. It’s about things I could not do before and about which I did not know how tender they are to the heart. I love our long bike! It is, perhaps, the most beautiful thing that happened to us. Because this lesson, this lesson of embracing the new and seeing the full half of our tandem, oh, this lesson I don’t want forget as long as I live.