I met a nice elderly woman the other day. 

I was riding, and she was out for a walk. 

It was at one of those intersections that you seem to never get.

If you miss the green, it is a five-minute wait.

It is incredible what you can achieve in a conversation at a red light. 

‘As you get older, it is important to keep moving and stretching,’ she said. 

She had me at ‘movement.’ 

She talked about her friends and siblings and how they were aging. They were starting to sell their homes and move to a one-level home to avoid stairs.

She was having none of that.

Her approach was the opposite: keep the stairs in your life and use them until the end. 

I liked this woman, she was a fighter, a ‘Do not go gentle into that good night,’ kind of person. 

It was at this point that we noticed that neither of us had pressed the button, and we had to wait for another cycle of lights. 

I wanted to add to the conversation, but sometimes it is better to listen. She was someone who could leave a mark on you in five minutes, and I did not want to miss a second of it. 

The light finally gave us the signal, and we crossed. I told her how much I liked her ‘Stair Approach’ and left her with my ‘Sock Approach.’ 

‘Sock Approach?’ she said, so we stopped after we crossed the street, and I filled her in. 

I am going to stop referring to her as ‘her’ and tell you her name is Genvieve. 

I told Genvieve that her ‘Stairs’ were my ‘Socks.’ 

Years and years ago, I made this bazaar promise to myself. I told myself that I would never sit down to put on my socks, I would stand on one foot and put each one on. My thought was that it not only gave me a quick little stretch, but an excellent way to work on my balance. 

You would think by now that I would have mastered it, but I have not. Even though I have been doing this for years, there are still times when I need to put a foot down or grab the dresser. 

I immediately know why. 

I am holding my breath.  

I stop and start again from the beginning, but this time I breathe. 

It changes everything.

Nice, soft, regular breathing, and I can be standing on one foot for the remainder of the day. 

But the day is beautiful, and I am off for a ride. 

So how does the ‘Sock Approach’ transfer to cycling? 

It transfers in a way that changes everything about the way you ride. 

The importance of breathing. 

There are times when you are riding, it does not matter if it is a hill or flat, that you say in your head, ‘Whoa, I don’t know how much longer I can hold this?’

This is when you think of ‘The Sock Approach.’

Bring it back to your breathing, you are fine.

In and out, in and out. 

It is all about breathing.

I saw Genvieve again the other day. She goes for her daily walks around the same time I leave for my rides. We had a nice talk. Genvieve is a Doctor and practices a few days a week. She told me she now tells her patients ‘The Sock Approach.’ I responded with ‘long live the stairs,’ and rode off with the visual of Dr. ‘G’ talking to one of her patients. 

‘The Sock Approach’ 

Insert a horseshoe emoji here. 

‘There is another way to ride.’