Serendipitous validation

Yesterday, once again, the winding backroads of southwest Virginia did not disappoint. Her wide, rolling pastures dotted with cows - black and white, moms and calves - grounded me into unhurried simplicity. The drive is a stark contrast to the Raleigh back-and-forth commute on wide, striped asphalt zooming with wheeled tin cans - 18 wheels, 4 wheels, 2 wheels - tempting my being into hurry-or-get-slaughtered complexity.

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I met Shirley shortly after I arrived at the New River Trail State Park parking area in Austinville, Virginia. I was the only car in the dirt lot until Shirley arrived. After she pulled her walking cane out of the trunk of her car, I commenced a conversation.

"How far are you walking today?"

"I don't know. Maybe a couple miles."

"Do you walk here often?"

"Every day. I love the trail. I live about 10 minutes away. Every hike I'm thankful it's in my back yard. I have to walk, have to. I can't just sit on my couch in pain and rot away."

"I totally get it. I'm the same with biking."

We shared a bit about the life-giving force of being in the woods. Her sister lives in Raleigh and commutes to Shirley's every weekend to get away from the traffic and congestion. Her sister is a teacher in the Raleigh area.

Funny that Shirley brought that up. Earlier in the week I had commuted to and from Raleigh, twice. After the two trips I determined that the drive probably isn't worth the current effort to complete "my big goal" of biking that part (and east thereof) of the state, so I was leaning toward non-commitment to that goal. Her comments further validated my decision to put it on indefinite hold. Not a big deal to me. I much prefer slower, meandering country commutes and more wood-time than interstate-time.

I shared with Shirley that on one of my Raleigh trips I met a teacher who commutes to and from work on his bike via the greenways. He shared that it's much less stressful than driving.

"I saw a bear on my walk recently," Shirley changed the subject away from big-city congestion and back to the trail.

"Oh man. I've been wanting to see a bear. I think it's been six years since I've seen one. When I ride I'm on the lookout, looking up in tree tops."

Shirley shared how she was lost in thought as she hiked, and then she looked up, and there was the bear. She prayed, "Lord if this is it, let it be quick." I'm not sure what happened after that because our conversation went in the direction of trail risks and if we were to die on the trail it'd be a good place to depart this earthly life. If I see her again, I'll have to ask what happened.

We talked a bit more, and then she commenced her walk.

About 30 minutes later I caught up with Shirley as she was crossing one of the wood-slat bridges. I dismounted my bike and walked beside her as we chatted some more. Ends up Shirley is disabled and walking the trail is one of her best therapies, like biking is for me. She would love to be able to bike again, but she can't due to her disability. I'd love to be able to hike again, but can't due to my disability. Ironic.

We stopped once we were across the bridge and chatted for at least another 20 minutes. Part of our chat was about social security disability and her fight to finally get it and how the judge apologized to her that she had to fight for four years. That part of the conversation brought me anxiety because I'm currently in the process of trying to get disability. I think it might be difficult for someone to understand how I can bike but not be able to work a regular job. Shirley totally gets it because that's how walking is for her.

We bade our farewells and then continued our treks - she on two feet and I on two wheels.

It took me an hour or so to calm my anxiety about the disability subject. But I was good after arriving back at Edward the Explorer and after talking to hubby on the phone. I actually had cell service at Austinville. That surprised me.