A couple of things happened in quick succession, which really highlighted for me how these minds of ours work, and how we can use that knowledge to our advantage.
The first was out on one of Dad’s Summer Holiday Cycling Adventures™ where I show my 11yo daughter just what she’s capable of—beyond what her mind might say—by taking her on ever-lengthening bike rides, while trying to keep it interesting and doing my best to avoid out and out mutiny.
(It’s a fine line! 😆)
The most recent of these (60km long – she’s doing well!) took us up over a local mountain, entirely on cycle paths, before dropping down into the next valley for ice cream and a mixture of canal towpaths and quiet back-roads home.
Trouble was, the weather. As we neared the top, it closed in and we started getting rained on. We had jackets and it wasn’t going to kill us or anything, but it was a bit unexpected and wasn’t pleasant riding at all. Especially as we started descending. (She runs hot, but my fingers had gone white with cold.)
👧🏻: “I don’t think I want to ride 60k today, Dad.”
👤: “Yeah, I hear you kiddo. Me neither, if it’s going to be like this all the way, but the forecast says this is just a blip. It’s bright sunshine in a bit, when we get down in the bottom.”
👧🏻: “Well I’m thinking we should maybe not do the full route. We can do it another day.”
This gets me thinking—Dad goes into Solution Mode—and also preys on my own insecurities about how the rest of the ride is likely to go with a deeply unhappy companion.
I’ve been here before.
I have one of those ‘unhappy companions’ in my head, most of the time.