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"Happy Trails"

June 5, 2007

The weird thing about jumping back and forth between home and school is that it puts you in a kind of time warp. It’s been less than a month since school got out, but the change of location really skews my sense of time. Rollins seems like a distant, insubstantial place. The last year seems like a blur, a blip on the radar compared to how long I’ve lived in this house. My parents’ house has become “home” again by default: With no dorm, no established space of my own, it’s the only place left to carry that designation. So home is “home” for the summer. I’d be lying if I said I don’t complain; admittedly, home is boring. But I’m content for the moment; it would take more than a little boredom to make me give up home-cooked meals.

But enough about food. This, dear readers, is my last entry, and in light of that I want to share a story that I think is emblematic of my year at college. I could tell you about the first two weeks of my internship at the courthouse—which, in case you’re wondering, is going very well—but this makes a better narrative.

I have a confession to make: until a couple weeks ago, I couldn’t ride a bike. Oh, I learned in elementary school, but I never got comfortable riding without training wheels. Besides, even if I had been able to ride my parents wouldn’t have let me out by myself at that age. So neither my siblings nor I rode bikes when we were young.

Things didn’t change until a couple years ago, when my parents got my brother a bike for Christmas. Dad taught Jason how to ride, and now Jason takes his bike out multiple times a week. This past year, my sister Lauren went through the same rite of passage. This inspired me to finally put aside whatever childhood fears were still clinging in the recesses of my psyche and join my siblings in the I-Have-Overcome Club.

A couple weeks ago, Dad took me out to a local park. In a deserted parking lot, I climbed on a bike for the first time in about 10 years. My greatest fear was crashing and suffering serious bodily harm. I kept looking at the ground, not yet trusting that I would stay up if I looked where I wanted to go. It takes a leap of faith to stare straight ahead and pedal when part of you is convinced that you will shortly make unwanted contact with the unyielding pavement, but you’ve got to do it. Otherwise, you won’t go anywhere.

Eventually, I was able to keep my eyes up despite the magnetic pull of the asphalt. Within about half an hour, I was pedaling the length of the parking lot. My starts and stops were utterly ungraceful, but I could go. It was a thrilling feeling.

Fast-forward to last Sunday. Dad, Jason, and I went out to the Suncoast Trail so I could get some more practice. Jason raced ahead to get proper exercise, while Dad stayed to coach me through shifting gears and riding with other people. I did well. I was elated. But my muscles weren’t well-developed, and I tired quickly. Towards the end of the ride, my brain was starting to lose focus, and the inevitable happed: I crashed. My greatest fear made manifest. Bruised in body and emotionally shaken, part of me longed to wish away the remaining miles to the car. But if all our wishes came true, we’d never have to work for anything. I climbed back on my bike when I could imagine countless other things I’d rather be doing. At the same time, I had never felt so keenly the meaning of Confucius’ axiom: “Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.”

A week later, just yesterday, Dad and I went out again. My bruises had faded to unpleasant shades of yellow by that point, and my nerves had recovered somewhat. I rode a little over six miles (yes, I’m a weakling). I was more relaxed on the bike, and this time there were no unplanned dismounts. My confidence is increasing, and soon I’ll have sufficient control of the bike to ride around the neighborhood without fear of accidentally running over a little kid.
You may well be thinking, “Okay, Shannon, nice story, but how does this have anything to do with college?” Good question, and here is the answer: Every time we undertake something new, we experience uncertainty. Usually, we make mistakes, especially at the beginning. Sometimes they’re big mistakes, and sometimes they hurt. But Confucius had it right: We’ve got to keep standing up and facing the very things that trip us. I say this particularly to those departing for college next year. College is a huge change from high school, and it takes time to adjust. Just give yourselves time. Eventually you’ll learn to hop over the obstacles that initially tripped you up.

That’s my final bit of wisdom for the year. Best of luck to all high school graduates, wherever you may be headed. I hope my journals have helped to make college decisions just a little easier. Even though I won’t be writing any more journals, I am still happy to answer questions, so feel free to e-mail me. Enjoy your summer, and happy trails to one and all!

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