When life feels like a bike ride you didn’t exactly sign up for — up and down constantly — not the breezy kind with a picnic basket and a gentle downhill slope, but the kind where you’re in the lowest gear, pedaling hard, and still wondering why the hill isn’t getting any smaller.
Sometimes you have to pedal because it’s the only way you can get anywhere.
Caregiving — or really, any long‑term responsibility — has a way of turning into repetition under pressure. The tasks change shape, but the load doesn’t. You wake up, you do the things, you adjust, you respond, you repeat. It’s not monotony. It’s endurance. Or at least that’s how its felt recently.
Everyone has their outlet. Some people read — disappearing into someone else’s world for a while. Some walk laps at the Y. Some knit, bake, scroll, or stare at the ceiling pretending to meditate. Some hop on a Peloton and imagine themselves coasting through the Alps while the resistance knob decides the course.
To survive, I had to find some outlets.
Me? I prefer repetitive escapes – walking, biking, swimming, painting, playing piano, singing, writing. I’ve learned that the important thing isn’t what the outlet is. It’s that you find one.
Endurance looks different for everyone.
Because the terrain changes every day:
· The Real Terrain Days — the ones where you’re grinding uphill, legs burning, breath short, doing everything you can just to keep moving. You’re lucky to get 5 minutes of an outlet.
· The Simulated Terrain Days — where you’re pedaling hard but going nowhere, repeating the same motions with the same effort and the same scenery. You take 15 because you have to.
· The Rare Coast Days — when the wind is at your back, the road smooths out, and you remember what it feels like to breathe without bracing. You get time for you.
No matter the intensity, every human carrying something heavy needs a pressure‑release valve. A momentary escape. A breath. A shift. A tiny pocket of freedom that reminds you you’re still a person inside the responsibility.
Recently I got a day to enjoy a 13 mile bike ride with a friend on the Three Eagle Trail. We got to go for a swim, and to go out to dinner. All in one day! Self Care — whew!
But most days….it’s the hamster wheel. Keeping on turning. Enjoy the rhythm. Repetition under pressure doesn’t mean you’re stuck. It means you’re showing up. It means you’re carrying something that matters. And it means you deserve those small escapes — whatever form they take — to keep your wheels turning.
What’s the one escape or outlet that keeps your wheels turning? Let me know.