Joy Ride

Last week, my dad asked me to drive his shiny red 1966 Corvette to a car show for him.  I grew up going to late model car races and car shows, and I learned the meaning of a "joy ride" young.  My first car was a sporty little two-door stick shift, and I used to love to push the RPM up on the straightaways of the country roads, sunroof open, windows down, rock blaring.  My favorite was to drive like that when I was by myself- just me and the thrill.  (Now that my own daughter will get her driver's license in four years, I am completely terrified and amazed that I survived adolescence).  But after college, I did the sensible thing and got a four-door VW sedan, followed by a somewhat sportier SUV, and then, a few years ago, I succumbed to the minivan.  I was a cheerleader in college, the top of the pyramid, the "flyer," the one running and doing handsprings across the football field ahead of the players at the game, big happy butterflies in my stomach with the roar of the crowd and the pounding of the music on the Jumbotron.  The last 15 years of starting a family and settling down have been amazing, but now I get nauseated on the swing-set and doing a handstand at yoga is my big thrill. Traveling earlier this year sparked my adventurous side, and I find I'm noticing and yearning for it more. 

So early last Saturday morning, with my dad already at the car show, and my husband following me in our minivan (just in case), I pushed the clutch in hard and turned the key on that beautiful old muscle car.  It was parked on an incline, and I was sweating and terrified of I don't know what, but I trusted muscle memory, put my foot on the gas and let go of that clutch.  I felt the power of the engine take over and took off!  Those Corvettes make such a good hearty noise, and as I hurtled along the lovely winding roads of Charlottesville, breaking the peaceful morning stillness, I was totally grinning.  I felt the good old thrill, the expanse in my chest, the butterflies soaring.  

I've thought about that feeling all week, and how it was familiar but novel, like finding your favorite old sweatshirt after years, or even the way it feels to pull out the winter coat again for the first time in November after months of bathing suits and shorts during the summer.  I recognized and remembered that part of me that I had put away for the last decade and a half.  I've tucked my thrill-seeking nature and fearlessness back behind the diapers, the lunch-boxes and tupperware as I've become a mom, increasingly aware of my mortality, and wrapped up in everyday demands and to-dos.  

I may or may not be having a bit of what some people like to call "a mid-life crisis."  I prefer to think of it as an opportunity to re-align my life and my values.  I've just started reading a book called "Falling Upwards" by the Franciscan teacher, Richard Rohr, who describes this second half as the great adventure, the task within the task, something more.  I honestly don't know exactly what this holds or entails.  I'm not trading in my husband or kids, though I have considered selling my minivan.  I may need to borrow the Corvette every now and then.  

The thing that feeling with the Corvette helped me to see is that I had to overcome my fear--the fear that builds up from years and years of not taking enough risks--to get in that car, allow that powerful engine to propel me and let me experience the joy. 

The thrill comes from soaring when you're not sure. 

When we were doing stunts in cheerleading, I didn't know if I would fall, but I did my best to be steady up top, and trusted my partner to catch me.  I have some ideas, some things I want to try, that may or may not work out.  But they sure won't work if I don't do my part and jump, or put my foot on the gas, or whatever metaphor works! 

My sister-in-law is a singer/songwriter.  I totally admire her guts and nerve to not only get out there and sing and perform in front of thousands, but also to balance being a mom and following her dreams to bring a new album to reality.  I love that she is presently touring in the UK with my brother-in-law and their one year old daughter, just doing it.  There's a song on her new album that I love, called "What Will I Do."  It's my theme song for this season! Give it a listen- Feel free to buy her album while you're at it! 

I recently asked some of my oldest, bestest friends about their fears.  I'm convinced that we all have them, and they are strong and powerful and hold us back, but we rarely talk about them.  I went first- I totally fear failure, and the shame that follows. It led to a good exchange, deeper than our usual text chatter.  What are your fears?  Deep down in your soul, what holds you back?  I love that writers with a global audience like Brene Brown are bringing these questions to the cultural conversation.  

Bringing fear to the light and naming it takes a lot of the power out of it, just like turning on a nightlight for my six-year-old who is recently afraid of the dark lessens his fear.   

Sometimes we have to name the fear to a trusted friend, sometimes we just have to jump, and sometimes we can drive our dad's treasured Corvette and not cause a scene by stalling out on Route 29 but instead be surprised by the thrill of it and be reminded that it can be fun to take risks! 

So stay tuned...we just bought plane tickets!