In the throes of the most anxious period of my life—third year of medical school—I left my house at dusk to go mountain biking. It was Sunday night, marking the end of my last day off before six more days in the hospital. I had to ride to survive another week.
Mountain biking is hazardous when fully lit. By the time I hit the trail, it would be dangerously dark. But I’d be fine; I had a spotlight. Oh no. No. No. I left it on the charger. It was too late to turn back. It was already 7PM. If I was going to ride, I had to ride now.
I sped to the trailhead, slammed my car into park, and hopped on the bike without checking tire pressures. There’s just enough light to ride, I thought as I flew past the trail’s entry marker and descended into the forest. Under a tent of blackjack oaks, I could barely make out the shape of passing roots, trunks, and… fuck, that was a deer!
Cruising at speeds beyond reckless in conditions past precarious, a thought flashed into my awareness, “Expect anything Ryan.” Not everything, but anything. I didn’t think the thought. The thought became me. From another source, I’d been entrusted with a faith that I’d figure out whatever was ahead. Peace washed over me, and somehow, I rode without light for a mile out and a mile back, guided by lightning bugs levitating off the forest floor.
We won’t ever have it all figured out. The best we can do is trust we’ll get it figured out when we get there, and sometimes, a little darkness is required to find the faith.
To livin’ a life we love,
Ryan Fightmaster, MD