A week ago, I yoked myself to Rick. I had been on one previous ride with him–a ride on which he fell behind and did not finish. He’s a great guy, we enjoy time together. It was natural we should both ride to the stake retreat together. I mean obviously and why not?
Yet I waited for Rick at the top of every hill. I had no problem doing it. We’re friends. We’re in this together. We’re partners attacking the road together and working together to make the ride easier.
I could easily draft when he led, but I kept losing him when I led. I kept having to wait for him to catch up. And when he did, I was ready to move forward.
It began to be eerily similar to the relationship I’ve been mourning.
We were in it together. I was committed to combing the next hill, but I always had to cheer and encourage her to catch up. When she arrived, I was ready to conquer the next challenge. She kept having to catch up.
Finally I chose to let her lead. And our pace in progress was belabored and forced. I essentially led from behind.
And like, Rick, I had to leave her behind.
Every day since, I’ve climbed the hill into camp. Every day I’ve questioned the wisdom of my decision. Until now.
She and I were never equally yoked. I always felt her catching up was a matter of making the decision to keep pace.
I now doubt that. Her keeping up was a matter of capability. As amazing as she is–and I’ll never say otherwise–she is not able to match me and push me forward. It’s not who she is. Just as Rick was unprepared for our ride, she lacks the experience and preparation to match mine.
We would have worked at marriage–it would have been hard, and I like to think we would have succeeded–but I would have never stopped turning around and encouraging her up the hill. It would have been a difficult pairing and an inappropriate yoke to handle together.