I’m Cycling 250 Miles: Here’s What That Has to Do With Resilient Joy
Integration: The Quiet Step We Often Skip
As I write this, I’m preparing for something I’ve never done before: a 5-day, 250-mile bike ride through southern Nebraska with Tour de Nebraska. When you read this, I’ll be camping in Curtis getting ready to bike out 42 miles on Wednesday to Elwood. (Send me some resilient joy vibes, will ya?)
It’s something I’ve been building toward for the last six months, not just physically (although lots of that), but mentally, emotionally, and yes… creatively. Because if I’ve learned anything about Resilient Joy, it’s that even the good things - the things we choose with intention - will stir up self-doubt, fear, or old patterns.
In the last week or two, I’ve been catching myself in moments of spiraling thoughts:
What if I’m not ready? What if I can’t keep up? What if I didn’t train enough? What if my knee hurts again? What if I don’t finish it all?
And here’s where integration comes in. Not as a pep talk. Not as a mindset reset (although I’ve tried lots of those, too). But as a practice of returning to myself. To what I know. To what I’ve already built. To the joy that sparked this in the first place - which was all about pushing myself to try something new that I wanted (biking over days and camping) with some support since it was the first time. But mostly it was about adventure to feel joyfully alive and a love of small towns!
Integration Is Letting the Work Land in Your Body
In my Creativity Lab right now of Summer of Resilient Joy, it’s integration week. And integration isn’t about being “ready.” It’s about being present. It’s about allowing your body to catch up with your growth. It’s about trusting that the shifts you’ve made, however small, count.
Whether you’ve been journaling more, reconnecting with your creativity, walking outside without your phone, or simply breathing deeper through a hard week - those are all acts of integration.
Integration is what happens when:
Your inner critical voice gets quieter because you’re finally listening.
You move slower on purpose and it feels like relief, not failure. (My cycling motto is: Slow is Forever.)
You realize your resilience no longer looks like pushing harder but it looks like resting sooner.
You say yes to a challenge because it connects you to joy, not because you need to prove anything (although I won’t sugarcoat this, I have had to see the moments when I’ve been hard on myself because that PROVING energy showed up).
Try This: Integration Prompts for Your Own Summer Flow
As I pack up my gear and try to stay grounded through my own “am I really doing this?” moment, I’m reflecting on these questions, and I’d love to offer them to you, too:
What’s something I’ve been building toward—even quietly—that deserves to be acknowledged?
Where am I tempted to push or prove… and what would it feel like to move with more trust instead?
What practices or rhythms have helped me feel more like myself lately? How can I protect and continue them?
What does joy feel like in my body right now, not in theory, but in sensation?
If I’m being honest, what part of me knows I’m more ready than I’ve given myself credit for?
This week, integration—for me—looks like cycling into uncertainty and reminding myself with every mile:
You’ve prepared. Feel it all. And most importantly, experience the Joy!
And maybe that’s your work too. Whether you’re cycling across counties or simply holding your creative energy through this season. Your resilience is real, and it’s already working.