To pedal and ride
over rocks and steep ridges
is a challenging sport
that’s just you, bike, and dirt.
Gravel and hills
put up resistance
that then gives way
to gliding and vistas.
To fall in the midst
of good honest effort
is more a lesson
than a type of defeat.
But fear can stop you
before a challenge is tried
and momentum lost
means a shameful walk.
So I keep recounting,
the feet pushed and carried
not miles I conquered,
or smiles from flowing descents.
The losses are sticky
and dwell more in my mind
than the win of experience
or the blessing of getting to ride.
It becomes a dark spot,
this sticky part of my brain,
that builds anxious futures
of walking my own defeat.
Can I remember little lessons
while ego forgets losses?
Can experience shine
while gratitude sticks?
I do remember this,
it’s all just for fun
and though it gets sticky,
it brings me great joy.

This poem was posted for the previous week’s poetry prompt, Where the Mind Dwells. I’m not convinced the form met the message well with this one, but I wanted to share it none the less.
Thanks for sharing. Your second-to-last stanza is a good summary of it.
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Thanks. It is the ego that hangs onto things and warns us away from risks.
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I enjoyed this piece, so thank you.
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You are very welcome. I appreciate you saying so.
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