A Homage to The Broken Road

June 2, 2025

I got into road biking 16 years ago when my husband bought me my first bike and showed me how to use the gears. I had ridden mountain bikes before, but never tried the bikes with the skinny tires and hard seats and never really wanted to. I was a girl from Southern California used to fat tire cruiser bikes on the boardwalk, the road bikes and all of the Spandex that went with them did not appeal to me at all.

As a matter of fact, it took me several years before I would don the skin tight uniform and the clip in shoes. All these years later, I am hooked, Spandex and all.

Seeing life over the handlebars is a meditation in itself. Last week, we held a Lead with Love Yoga and Biking Retreat in Tuscany, Italy. We had many brave souls join us from all over the world gathering in a beautiful villa in the countryside to practice yoga then slip into some Spandex and ride through the hilly countryside. Often it’s not safe to ride side-by-side so I would find myself alone, peddling, contemplating life and catching glimpses of quintessential Italian life while crawling up a hill or zooming down one. We rode through the stunning Val d’Orcia, a UNESCO heritage site since 2004, peddling up (always up!) to the picturesque towns of Pienza, Montalcino, Montepulciano, San Quirico d’Orcia and all the way up to Radicofani and then down, down, down. It was delightful.

On the last day, on a particularly long flat section, I noticed the road was fully intact then every time I would pass a tree on the side of the road the road was broken. My “undercarriage” was minced meat by this time after six days on the bike and each time I encountered the broken road I stood up to try to lessen the pain to my precious parts. As I did this I started to pay closer attention to the trees and felt a sense of connection to their spirit and to their perseverance. These trees did not give a damn that someone paved a road over their generous root system. They did not stop growing, reaching for nourishment, taking up their space. 

I thought of my own life journey and how so often when I have encountered an obstacle how I would contort myself to avoid it. My response up until now had been more of an adaptive response. I would unconsiously adapt to my environment, change course and shift so I didn’t encounter obstacles, or, if I did, I would find a way to flow around them versus face them. I would avoid conflict at all cost. But, the cost, I found, is my sense of self. Who am I if I am constantly adapting to other people and circumstances to try to avoid conflict and discomfort?

The broken road inspired me (and did cause me some pain I admit!) The cracks in the pavement represent a tree staying a tree and being true to itself even amidst the external pressure. I received a lesson from those bumps, encouragement to stick to what it is that I want and am inspired to do even in the face of adversity. The asphalt for me comes in many different forms, it is often in the form of comfort, safety and the known. Why venture toward something that is calling to me when I can stay safe like a potted plant unwilling or unable to break the mold?

Well, I’ll tell you, I am no potted plant and the pain I felt riding over that broken road was a good reminder of that truth. I am meant to spread my roots to find the things that nourish me. I am meant to persevere when I encounter something hard that makes me want to stay hidden underground. I am meant to flourish and grow and sometimes that means taking up more space that the municipality or road crews (or family or society or my own limiting beliefs) might like. I am meant to break the road in order to be true to myself even if it makes other people uncomfortable or if it isn’t pretty.

Like the vines that surrounded us on those rides, the ones that have to struggle the most for nourishment through rock and in steep terrain are the ones that produce the finest wine. These grapes, the fruit of the labor of the vines, have the most complexity and character. These are the wines that stop you and take you on a journey through your tastebuds to another place and time. These wines have reached their potential and they create a sense of awe and wonder at the power of man and nature combined to create something so transformative and delicious, not despite the struggle, but because of it.

This post originally appeared in my monthly column in The Aspen Times.