sample of "lean into life: lessons from the "road"

8/3/2019 Sample of "Lean Into Life: Lessons from the "Road"

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102 Live Full Throttle


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Te night beore returning to Charlotte, North Carolina,

rom my rst Conga ride in 2010, I rendezvoused with our

motorcycling riends in Asheville, a Blue Ridge Mountain

town a couple o hours away. My our riends had witnessed

me wiping out in a rainstorm three months earlier on a rented

bike, and although they worried about my saety on the 18-state

journey rom North Carolina to Oregon and back, they cheered

me on and helped me prepare. Returning unscathed to their

enthusiastic embraces and high ves was my rst emotionalvictory lap.

I knew that there would be V crews and a newspaper

reporter or two waiting to talk to me the next day at my

welcome-home party, but had no idea how I would respond to

the inevitable question o why I did it. Why had I done it? Yes, I

needed to work on the book project in Oregon, but I could have

LessonsLean Into Life:

from the Road

TamelaRich.com/books 103


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easily own there and back, so that wasnt it. Why had I decided

to set of on a mostly-solo trek with so little preparation? I

listened to my answers careully that night as my riends asked

me about my experience, but I went to bed without the wished

or aha moment o clarity.

Te bikers planned a great route home through a ew

stretches o twisty roads between Asheville and Lake Lure. Askany experienced motorcyclist and theyll tell you how much

they enjoy a nice twisty road; ask any inexperienced biker about

riding twisties and watch the color drain rom their ace. I rode

in the cradle that daymy term or being in the middle o

the line o bikesand when we stopped or breakast in Lake

Lure my riends remarked that my skills were much improved

Why had I

decided to

set off on a

mostly-solotrek with

so little

preparation?



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ater 7500 miles behind me; I

could eel it mysel, too. But

something emotional was wellingup alongside the pride over my

technical skills. What was it?

Our next stop was the Bantam

Che diner in Chesnee, South

Carolina, chockablock with 1950s

memorabilia including a 1950

restored Studebaker and a 1958

BMW Isetta. You can smell its

cooking oil rom a block away on a

normal day, and rom three blocks

away on a summer day when the

air doesnt move. August 8, 2010

was a three-block day.

I love diners, dives and greasy

spoons, especially when the

kitsch on the walls is collected,not manuactured, and the

owners themselves rell your ice

tea rom a pitcher. No one else

in my amily quite appreciates

these establishments as I do,

which made me reect on the



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reedom Id enjoyed on my trip to eat where I wanted to, and

with whom I wanted. How I had lingered over interesting

conversations with patrons and wait staf and had been ableto tell them anything I wanted about mysel. Heck, I could

have even lied about who I was and what I was doing i Id

wanted to.

During that last hour on the bike, nearing the re-entry

zone o my ormer lie, I thought about identity, my identity,

and the identity that others ascribed to me. I thought about

the person that my ellow Conga riders knew me to be. She

was diferent in many key ways rom the person that my

closest riends and amily had come to know over a longer

period o time. Te Conga rider was a successul adventurer.

She had taken a risk that most people had warned her

against, and prevailed. She had done something that many

middle-aged women dreamed o, sometimes secretly. Most

importantly, she had changed the way she thought o hersel.

Wheeling into my welcome-home party at Caribou

Cofee where amily, riends, the anticipated V newscrews and a Charlotte Observer reporter bore witness to my

accomplishment, I was indeed asked why I did it. I heard

mysel say that Id had a lot o ailures in my lie and this trip

was a way or me to redene mysel as a success. Funny, it

only became clear to me why Id done it ater it was done.

Id had

a lot of

failures in

my life and

this trip

was a way

for me toredene

myself as

a success.

Funny, it

only became

clear to

me why

Id done

it after it

was done.



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From Failed Business Ownerto Successful Human Being

Rewind our years rom that rst Conga ride and Id havedescribed mysel as the owner and guarantor o a bankrupt

business. Facing weekly capital calls rom riends and amily who

had bankrolled the endeavor, I had taken a calculated risk and

ailed miserably, taking down with me people who had entrusted

their money to my business acumen. My bank account had been

swept clean by the Internal Revenue Service. Tere was no way

we could aford college tuition or our children.

Suicide began seducing me long beore I got the urge to take

action. Mental health proessionals call it suicidal ideation

when that little voice says, ake a hard let into the oncoming

lane and all this shit will go away. I that little voice has been

speaking to you, too, get help immediately.

One day I snapped. Not in the sense o alling into a heap;

what I ell into was a sort o trance. Driving home rom another

day o taking creditor and investor calls and dealing with a

I had taken a calculated risk and failed miserably,

taking down with me people who had entrusted

their money to my business acumen.



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workorce that couldnt pass a drug test, the idea

persisted that there was one solution that would

make everyone happy. I I were dead I wouldnthave to deal with my bungled lie and my loved

ones would have at least some o their money back

rom the lie insurance proceeds. Youre probably

saying but a lie insurance policy wont pay on

suicide. As a ormer insurance executive I knew my

particular policy would.

Up in my bedroom, I powered up Word on my

laptop and directed my spouse in how I wanted

him to allocate the proceeds o the policy. Tere was

no goodbye, cruel world language; I was entering

a unilateral business transaction. My lie or the

insurance money.

Note nished, I surveyed the meager pharmaceutical

contents o my medicine cabinet, looking up each online,

trying to nd a lethal combination. With the realization that

laxatives, decongestants and analgesics wouldnt do the job,and that something more painul and messy was in order, I

started coming out o my trance. My amily trickled in rom

work and school. Someone had to make dinner. Lie went on

and soon the gravity o what Id almost done led me to seek

medical, psychological and spiritual caregiving. But it took

a cross-country motorcycle trip to bring back my mojo.



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It took a cross-country motorcycle trip

to bring back my mojo.

An Invitation to Lean Into Life

Motorcycling gave me a new metaphor or exploring the

road o my lie, including these insights:

Everything wobbles: Avoiding and recovering rom

the inevitable spills o lie.

Blind corners abound: Ride your best ride and take

uncertainty as it comes.

Explore the detours: Teyre usually providential. Embrace the switchbacks: Te saest way to the

mountaintop isnt the shortest.

I invite you to learn more about my story in the

orthcoming memoir, Lean Into Life: Lessons from the Road.

Ive never seen a story told in a 356-day series, which I do in

Lean Into Life, but the ormat makes sense to me based on

my morning ritual: a bit o yoga, inspirational readings and

quite prayer and reection.

I hope youll give yoursel two or three minutes each day

to traverse the highways and byways o lie with me. urn the

page or two daily samples rom Lean Into Life: Lessons from

the Road.

For books Ive written visit amelaRich.com/books.

Tamela Speaks

to community groups

and businesses on the

themes o rebirth and

transormation rom a

motorcyclists perspective.

She invites you alongor the ride rom the

comort o a conerence

room chair, at a corporate,

social or religious retreat,

or in any setting that

nds people ready to

absorb, be inspired and

come away motivated to

make an impact in and

through their own lives.

Get started by emailing:

[email protected]



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Ask for helpI think theres a place or lone wolng, bootstrapping and sel-reliance,

but Americans place too much emphasis on rugged individualism.

Asking or help shouldnt bring you shame and it might just pay of or

all concerned. Know how I got my BMW motorcycle and the training I

needed to traverse eighteen states on my 2010 Conga? By asking.

When I asked the BMW Perormance Center to sponsor me with a

bike and training, I knew it was a long shot. I knew that women are

the astest-growing segment o the motorcycle industry and that BMW

motorcycle buyers are typically college educated, working in a managerial

or proessional role and middle-aged (in other words, women just like

me). I gured that my proposition would be odder or BMWs publicrelations team i I brought mysel and the bike back in one piece, but

during the middle o a recession, asking or sponsorship was a crap shoot.

From BMWs perspective, however, they could have spent hundreds o

thousands o dollars trying to nd a middle-aged woman whod agree

to go on a cross-country motorcycle trip ater a couple o days training,

and here I landed on their doorstep on my own steam. No wonder they

didnt hesitate to say yes.

Tere are only two answers to any requestyes or no.

I you never ask the question, the answers a defnite no.



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One day at a timeEveryone I knew, even those who wished me well and cheered me

on, worried that I was taking on an overly ambitious project7500

miles with about 1000 miles o seat time beore departure. Tey

worried about lots o things, not only the number o miles, but

the weather, the strangers and the animals I would encounter, my

lack o mechanical skills and the act that Id never traveled that

ar alone in a car with GPS, much less a motorcycle without it.

Looking at it rationally, they were right. But I knew I could do it.

o those who brought up the chicken and egg argument about

not having enough seat time to try this cross-country eat, I told

them that I was going to take the trip one day at a time. Te rstday that I rode solo I said, oday Im going to drive 275 miles

rom Cincinnati, Ohio to Valparaiso, Indiana all by mysel. Ill

stop when I need to stop and deal with whatever comes my way

as best I can. Its going to be un and Im going to be a better

rider by the time I get to Valpo. Sure enough, it was true.

Dont overwhelm yoursel thinking about the uture.

Do what you must do today to the best o your ability,

with ocus and a joyul heart. And do the same tomorrow.


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