I counted. From 2017, when we became empty-nesters, through 2019, I wrote 25 blog posts that included the topic of biking. But in 2020? One. Just one.

In keeping with the theme of 2020, this has been a sad year for biking. My husband, the biking fanatic and my biggest cheerleader, has had to lay low this year due to back issues. I’ve gone on a few solo rides, but much fewer than usual without his prompting and companionship.

When my work at school started a month ago, not only did I have eight hours less free time each day, but I also fell off a chair while hanging posters, and fractured a rib. (Who knew hanging posters could be a workplace hazard?) At that point, my cycling came to a dead stop.

Thankfully, time has healed my rib and this past week I decided it was time to move this old body again. On the last gorgeous day before a cold front settled in, the bike came up from the basement. Yes, my husband had already moved my bike to the basement, assuming I was finished for the year. It had been that long.

I dragged myself to the closet and pulled my spandex biking shorts over my plentiful midsection. This year of less biking and COVID stress-eating has been less than kind to my middle. I knew I should ride, yet I dreaded it. How would I feel after a month away from biking?

My negative attitude shone through as I moaned “wish me luck” to my husband, who was puttering around in the yard. With yearning written all over his face, the biker-man said, “Have fun. It’s a beautiful day for a ride!” I knew I should be thankful my rib had healed, but I was still apprehensive about the strength and endurance I knew I had lost. My mind said “you gotta’ do this,” but my heart was not coming along for the ride.

Have you ever dreaded something because you were afraid of the discomfort it might cause? Have you focused on what you’ve lost rather than what you might gain? On fear of the unknown, rather than the promise of possibility?

My own gloomy thoughts that day reminded me of the days before we became empty-nesters and the dread and fear of the journey to come. The lessons I learned from last week’s ride would have been useful to have three years ago.

As the kids headed off to college and their careers, I anticipated the pain and sadness of losing them. For 26 years my identity had been wrapped up in my “mom-job” and I was paralyzed by the thought of being “unemployed.”

Just as I prepare for a ride by clipping my shoes into the pedals and turning on my tunes and Cyclemeter, my husband and I had also geared up for the big change in our lives. We even had a sense of excitement, not unlike my anticipation of what might end up being a good ride.

But despite having the right gear, when I got in the saddle after an extended break, I immediately felt an ache in my legs; the shooting jabs through my thighs a direct result of too much time spent in my comfy chair.

And so it was with our transition to an empty nest. Although we had readied ourselves, the final good-byes and first weeks without our chatty youngest, our socialite daughter, were tough. Over the previous decades, we had grown accustomed to and comfortable with the noise of a household full of kids. The unfamiliar silence and emptiness in our home were only surpassed by the void in my heart.

The first half-mile of my ride was painful, but I pushed on. It would be embarrassing to turn around and go home. Then, at the end of our road, I turned the corner. And the magic kicked in. Once my legs had warmed up, I remembered why I enjoy biking so much.

In the same way, I found real joy in empty-nesting after the initial pain subsided. The weeks passed and we fell into a routine. Our kids were adjusting to their young adult lives and my husband and I saw new opportunities in our own lives. We were finally reaping the rewards of a job well done.

As we embark on any new journey, we can find promise and possibility by chasing the joy, rather than focusing on the pain. It’s true for biking. I’ve discovered it’s also true for empty-nesting.

How then, can we chase joy in the empty nest?

Relish the joy of freedom.

Like flying down hills on my bike and not being tied down with my butt in the chair, the life of an empty-nester is freeing.

Our kids are truly a blessing and having them at home through the growing up years brings liveliness and delight. On the flip side, there is constant responsibility associated with parenting. We lack the flexibility to pursue our own ambitions as we attempt to squeeze them in around our kids’ lives. With the kids on their own, we are free to be on our own as well!

discover the joy of your own strength.

No longer is my identity tied to my children. Just like building up muscles for biking, discovering our midlife selves is challenging and can take time. I don’t ride 75 miles on my first ride of the summer, but after much time and training, I’ve been able to achieve some lofty goals.

Finding our own identity again after so many years of being “Jenny’s mom” or “Johnny’s dad” can take time. It may require searching our souls, taking classes, or putting ourselves back into a job market we once left behind. Stepping out of our comfort zones, not unlike sitting on a hard bike saddle, will require practice and patience. But eventually, we’ll tap into our true selves and our own source of strength.

Find joy in living life at a slower pace.

When cycling, I take in the landscape around me; houses, gardens, and fields. I marvel at the change of season as autumn leaves turn rust and gold. These are the glimmers of joy I miss as I speed by in my car.

In the same way, the empty nest allows us time for pleasures in life that we once zoomed past. Reading, hobbies, travel. Getting reacquainted with one's spouse. Visiting and caring for elderly parents. Playing with grandchildren. Like sipping a leisurely cup of tea, the pace of the empty-nest life allows more time to be in and lavish the moments. To cherish the memories.

chase joy by acknowledging your blessings.

As I ride, I thank God for his provision. Not only is the weather perfect on this lovely autumn day, but my ribs have healed and I can exercise without pain. Knowing my husband is still longing to ride but can’t, makes me realize my own health can’t be taken for granted.

Rather than seeing what we’ve lost and instead counting our gains, brings joy. If our children are in college or working, they must have sound minds and able bodies–gifts that cannot be taken for granted. I think of parents who may never have the luxury of an empty nest as they care for a child with special needs. Or friends whose longing for children was never fulfilled, or who lost a child far too young due to a tragic accident or illness. Focusing on what we have, rather than what we feel we’ve lost, prompts a heart of gratitude and joy, rather than of self-pity and sadness.

Will there be challenges in empty-nesting?

Of course. When I first started cycling, there were hills that required me to get off my bike and push. There were long rides when I almost bonked. And cold and rainy days that made me shiver and wring out my wet socks.

this new life stage comes with struggles.

There may be frustrations and disappointments when our adult children don’t see things the way we do. Or when it seems they’ve forgotten or turned away from us or the values we’ve taught them. Reconnecting with our children as adults takes fortitude and love.

Marriage challenges can also bring us down. Couples often discover parenting was the main thing holding them together. With hard work and commitment, we can work to restore the love we once shared, before time (and children) stepped in and changed us.

Empty nests are usually not permanent. About the time we get used to the quiet nest and our freedom, the kids inevitably come back home for a time and invade our solitude.

Pushing through the challenges is like pushing those pedals up and down when you feel your energy waning. Eventually, you will clear another hill and be coasting through the journey once again.

I ask you, empty nesters: how’s your ride? Is your empty-nest heart focusing on the pain and heartache you’re feeling? Are you viewing the challenges as insurmountable hills to climb?

Or are you keeping your eyes on the promise and possibility of this adventure? On the joy of seeing your children’s successes and of attaining your own dreams as well?

Where your heart and mind dwell, there also you will find your pain or your pleasure. Your struggle or your strength. Your blight or your blessings.

So keep riding. And never stop chasing the joy in your journey.

Four Ways to Chase Joy in the Empty Nest