Finding the Gold Nuggets Inside Life’s Dark Caves
It goes without saying that 2020 took some sort of toll on each of us, and for me it had to get its final licks in on its way out.
On Halloween, after having taken a few weeks time off following a 300 mile self-supported ultraendurance mountain bike race, my final for the season, my partner and I headed out for a fun and mellow “backyard bike ride” on some single track outside Logan, UT. After a fulfilling four hour rolling ride, near the start of the final trail down from the top of a mountain, I clipped a small tree with my handlebars at high speed and flew over the bars straight to my head. The impact gave me a concussion with lasting symptoms, and I’ve spent the last 3+ months navigating this challenge.
In the events of a split second, all my usual “reasons to be cheerful” were suddenly in serious jeopardy.
For my entire life I’ve found joy and fulfilment in moving my body in the outdoors; particularly on a bike and skis.
I’ve literally built my life around seeking the embodiment of flow state that happens when my bike and I, moving in perfect partnership, dance along a narrow brown ribbon of dirt through rocks and roots, taking flight whenever a trail feature makes it possible. Over the years I've developed a special affinity for riding at night by head and handlebar light, having every ounce of my focus directed right in front of me while still having an acute awareness of the very alive night world I am moving through, feeling like I’ve entered some sort of alternate reality.
And in winter, gliding quietly through the woods on my skis during a heavy snowfall, completely silent save for my skins “shoosh-ing” through the snow as I make my way uphill, and flying weightlessly through deep powder snow in my descent from the top, again in a dance with nature that leaves me breathless and exhilarated.
For the months after hitting my head, my world came screeching to a halt. Any fast movement or increase of my heart rate brought a rush of symptoms that sent me back to bed.
And for the very first time, dedicated to starting from scratch in learning tools and strategies to help my brain heal and adapt to function optimally, I learned to find joy in very basic life routines and structured systems.
When I was able to look at screens I took an online course on strategies for productivity hacks, and because I was unable to work or play, I dedicated myself to putting those systems in place and making them a habit.
I started going to bed before 9 pm and waking up at 5:30 am, and found deep satisfaction in my early morning routine with my partner and our dogs, going for walks when the rest of the world was asleep and all was quiet and still. I love being outside in the dark, and completely by accident, I had discovered a new way to enjoy it. I took note and celebrated each time I was able to walk a little longer or a little further than before with no concussion symptoms.
I found joy in pre-planning my weeks, designing and organising my life on a micro scale to prioritise my non-negotiables: time with my partner, our dogs, and time moving my body in ways that felt healthy and productive. Second on the priority list was my “deep work” time: time that I blocked in my calendar and dedicated to working on my most inspiring creative project in my work, steering my small business in the way I want it to evolve. In the early months following my concussion, these things were all I could do.
Instead of feeling frustrated that I couldn’t resume my client work or my training schedule for spring races, as these tasks were too brain-intensive, I relished in the gift of time to work slowly and deliciously on the creative work I’d been wanting to bring to life for a very long time -- the work I was always “too busy” for, going on long bike rides and traveling for races and doing intense and focused work with private clients.
Next week, after being “pregnant” with the idea for this creative work for literally years, I will finally give birth to this project and turn it loose into the world. Designing these routines and systems into my life gave me the ability to make this dream a reality, and it likely wouldn’t have happened without the necessity of wiping my schedule to focus on healing my brain.
Through my journey with brain injury and post-concussion syndrome, which could certainly have psychologically crushed me, I was surprised to find reasons to be cheerful literally all around me in ways I’d never experienced them before.
Finding joy and inspiration is easy for me when I’m able to be outdoors, moving my body in nature. I did not expect to find those feelings in my Asana task list, my Google Calendar, my Life Map and Priority List document, my quarterly meal plan, and the simple daily and weekly routines that have now become such a wonderful part of my life (and also my partner’s).
Routines and systems may not give me the exact same type of joy and inspiration that I find in moving through landscapes under the power of my own body, and at the time of this writing I am finally back to a place where I can do these things again in small quantities and I am incredibly grateful for that. But they bring me a different type of fulfilment that even my most exciting adventures cannot. I haven’t quite figured out yet how to describe it.
What I have realised is that, perhaps especially as I get older and my focus has shifted somewhat from my personal adventure pursuits to the desire to make an impact through teaching and creating, I need a balance of both types of inspiration and fulfilment.
Up until now, I wasn’t aware that was available to me as I’ve always been a person of extremes and spontaneity; but I’ve learned that way of living can actually be quite limiting. I crave adventure, and I also desire impact. Thanks to my newfound love of and growing proficiency at routines and systems, the discipline I’ve developed through those simple delights has given me the freedom to create both.
And that is most definitely a reason to be cheerful.
Elizabeth Sampey is an integrative adventure coach, Doctor of Physical Therapy, and professional endurance athlete in multiple adventure sports. She was an international speaker and facilitator at retreats and global mastermind events, back when social gatherings were a thing. She’s been a full-time nomad for 6 years, living in her 1997 Chevy Astro minivan with her giant floofy shepherd dog Cody Oats World Traveler, and recently she’s taken up part-time residence with her partner Daniel in Logan, UT.
Elizabeth has planned and executed several expedition-style adventure projects around the world involving bikes, skis, foot, and packrafts; both solo and with teammates, and currently holds the record for the fastest woman ever to complete a self-supported mountain bike traverse of the 750-mile Arizona Trail. She hopes to return to ultraendurance racing and expedition when her concussion symptoms are fully healed.
You can follow her journey over on Instagram at www.instagram.com/elizasampey, and check out her photos and long-form writing at www.vitalmotionlife.com.
If you enjoyed this piece, you may also like Think Outside, How Moving Kept Me Moving and 23 Hours of Running