If I only didn't have a brain...
One of my biggest problems is that I think too much. I never stop thinking. I can rarely turn my brain off. This gets me into a lot of trouble sometimes. I over-analyze everything. Even when there isn't necessarily anything to analyze, I will find something to obsess about. It keeps me up at night, and distracts me throughout the day.

I'm in big trouble when I can't find the answer to something that doesn't make sense to me. I will think about it over and over, trying to reason it out. The problem is that I often fail to think of it from another perspective. Not intentionally. I just have trouble seeing things other ways when I'm left to it on my own. I usually have to be shown the alternative, or other contributing factors to see things in a different light.

This is where obsession comes in. If I can't figure it out on my own, and I can't get help with it, and it still doesn't make sense to me, I have a hard time letting it go. Things in my perfect world make sense. There is an obvious solution, and this solution fixes everything. It's clear cut and I don't have to wonder why it doesn't make sense. It does make sense.

Last night at church, I have to admit I wasn't really paying attention to the talk (sorry, talk-giver-person). I'm still in a depressed fog about the bike ride, and truthfully I didn't even want to be there. I just didn't care to listen. Too distracted.

But, the talk ended in a song. And not like it was some epiphany-riffic moment for me. But the song played was U2's Sometimes You Can't Make on Your Own. I listened to the words. It seemed appropriate for my day on Saturday and the bike ride fiasco. It peaked my curiosity enough to buy the CD today during lunch. As a coping mechanism, which is a justifiable expense in times of great tragedy and heartache, and definitely cheaper than some other comfort purchases I can think of.

In a literal sense, I would not have finished that ride had I been out there on my own. I started the ride thinking I could make it on my own. I trained, my gear seemed in good shape to start, I felt good. I figured I would ride, on my own as I usually do, and get to the finish without any major problems. My aching butt ceased to be a major problem a coupleof years ago. Now it's just an annoying problem. But far from major.

But, I was actually forced to ask for help. This is not something I do well, especially of people I do not know. I had to depend on the kindness of strangers. A lot of strangers. It took the help of several people to get my bike and pedals functioning well enough to hobble over the finish line. It took encouragement from friends who I knew were waiting for me in some key places. And you'd better believe that it took a lot of prayer. Among other things, I said some prayers of not-so-quiet desperation while on the bike that day. I needed strength that I did not have, and miracles that I could not create.

Somehow, all of that got me to the finish line. And you can be sure that there were several moments out there that I wasn't sure I was going to make it. Not because I didn't have the desire, or was so tired that I would give up. But because it looked like broken pedals could not be fixed, and it's just not feasable to ride without good shoes and pedals. I would never have thought of velcro, or bailing wire to fix my bike pedals. But, I didn't have to think of it. Someone else did, and provided it.

The U2 song made me think of some other things going on for me lately. Battles of wills that seem to be there, though unintentionally. Alike enough to cause differences. Creating space, but getting distance. Love, yet frustration. Kindness, yet uncertainty. Things I can't figure out, yet can't let go of. A need to understand, when maybe just being understanding is the more important thing.

Thinking outside of the way I see, even when it isn't shown to me. Allowing grace for other factors that I don't necessarily need to know about.

We can't make it on our own, and we don't have to try to make it on our own. But sometimes I can't let go of trying to figure it out on my own.

That's trouble for me, more often than not.

Maybe part of what I'm supposed to learn from the ride that wasn't what I'd hoped it would be is that I need to let go more of the things that I can't control. Especially disappointment. And maybe I need to learn to be more okay when things don't go exactly my way.

Even though it didn't look the way I wanted it to look, when it came down to it, and when I really needed it, I wasn't alone.

Don't get me wrong. I'm still torn up about it.

But at least I have a new U2 CD. Sometimes the world seems better with Bono and The Edge.

C.T.

PS: I will eventually stop obsessing about this enough to write about something else. But maybe not for awhile.