The Old Lady Riding Her Bike up the Hill Was a Metaphor for How to Succeed In Life
You can learn a lot from simply watching those around you…
I recently got hold of a new bike. Sure, there’s a pandemic-fuelled worldwide bicycle shortage, but with things like bikes, second-hand is usually the way to go and buying used was the only way I could get my hands on one that was big enough here in Korea, where things can often be on the small side (I think I’ve only ever found one pair of shoes that fit me in 10 years of living here).
My intention was to start cycling to work in order to get fit and drop a few pounds as well as do my bit for the climate by ditching the car in favour of two wheels.
On that first ride to work the day after bringing my new bike home with me in the car, I have to say I went a little crazy. The joy of the wind in the hair, the freedom of self-propulsion and the thrill of being able to go where cars cannot made me giddy and I did the ride to work in 25 minutes flat. I was shocked. I hadn’t ridden for the best part of a year, yet here I was doing my best Bradley Wiggins impression, stunning the good people of Ulsan, Korea with my athletic pedal power prowess.
I cruised smugly into uni, taught my classes and then, after lunch, proceeded to mount my steed for the return leg of the trip.
The Hill
I think I forgot to mention- between my place and the university where I work, there’s a whacking great hill. In fact, the ascent begins almost as soon as you step out the door, until a plateau about 3 kilometres in, then it’s straight down the other side to the university.
I was now doing this in reverse after a tough morning teaching freshman presentation skills and a heavy lunch. My morning vigour had all but evaporated and as I approached the start of the ascent back towards the house, my cadence slowed and I suddenly ran out of energy. I bonked.
I had just resigned myself to getting off to push when I heard a faint ‘ding ding’ behind me.
I turned to see an ancient woman on a rusting folding bike laden with shopping bags pedalling towards me. She had cropped, grey hair and was wearing a garish yellow cardigan and some sort of padded snow boots. Not exactly the streamlined lycra you’d expect from a top endurance athlete.
“Well there’s no way she’ll make it up this hill”, I smugly consoled myself as I gasped for breath and leant against the wall of the elementary school next to me.
“She’ll be getting off to push any time now. Perhaps we can be bike-pushing buddies and head up together,” I half thought to myself.
The thought was still turning round in my brain as she trundled past, wheels squeaking and bags rustling. Without so much as a glance in my direction and in almost perfect slow-motion, she proceeded up the hill.
I stared in amazement as slowly, agonisingly so, she inched her way up the path. She did not stop. She did not dismount. She did not push. The pedals kept going, the old woman’s frame hunched determinedly over the handlebars, swaying lightly from side to side with the effort of the climb.
I watched and watched until finally, I could see her come to a stop at the traffic lights some several hundred metres up the road. She had made it. Almost a kilometre of climbing on a hot day, on a bike laden with stuff by an old woman on a junkyard bike. And I was still standing there, feeling my heart rate returning to normal.
Final Thoughts
There’s a rather obvious metaphor in there. The young man, the hare, on his new, modern machine, goes for the jugular and bites off more than he can chew, overconfidently wearing himself out too early in the race. The tortoise, the old lady, knows that success does not depend on speed, strength and power, rather endurance, repetition, concentration and experience.
Age is just a number. We often forget that experience, accumulated knowledge and wisdom matter, often more than the brash youthfulness and false confidence flaunted by the Instagram crowd.
Write the elderly off at your peril.
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