I believe I invented a new term. I don’t want to look it up on Google in case it already exists, and I need a few things to give myself credit for. This new term is “Late Midlife Crisis”. I came up with this when I was 60, certainly at an age that fit into that category, and now at 73, it still has meaning in my life.

We all know about “Midlife Crisis” and at 50 (the new 40), though you may be frustrated with where you’ve been and where you’re going, you still have the possibility of getting through at least some of your bucket list. At my named later stage, however, there’s a grieving process as you accept that those long held dreams are just no longer possible. My list included things like living in Mexico and becoming fluent in Spanish, learning to sail and ski, and even hang gliding.  But more than any of those, I dreamed of riding a pinto pony across the rolling hills of my native Kansas prairies. “Yes, Virginia, there are hills in Kansas.”

This was my dream since I was a little girl. I’d love to look at ponies in picture books, one in particular that I’ve kept, and it still fills me with a deep longing.

 Growing up in Topeka, the family would load into a big old green Plymouth for our twice monthly trips to my grandmother’s farm. When my brother Ed wasn’t trying to pinch me in his version of “Car Border Patrol”, I’d stare out the window, seeing myself riding over the hills on my trusty pony Blaze. I could feel the wind in my face and the leather reins in my hands.

Once I moved to the country with my daughters, we did have a pinto pony. She had a sweet nature much of the time and liked to be led on a halter along the dry creek bed. Someone sitting on her back was not her thing, however. We stopped riding her after friend Wayne got thrown off and only avoided being a vegetable for life because his motorcycle helmet saved his scull from her kick. Needless to say, I never galloped across the prairie on her.

 So, how to find substitutes when you give up your bucket list dreams? Supposedly growing old well and with dignity means learning to find new ways to live fully.

I will say that I have studied Spanish on Duo Lingo every morning for the past three years, but it is more to keep dementia at bay than any belief I’ll need it one day. I’ve recently switched to Italian, partly because daughter Rose plans to do a semester abroad there, and also because I had reached the point with Spanish where I was supposed to know the forms of irregular verbs, and really, who needs that?  I can now say, “I would like a croissant and a coffee with milk, please” in Italian and my accent improves if I make the stereotype hand gestures that are seen in old Mafia movies. Rose told me to please not do that in Italy. I have long ago lost my desire for sailing and skiing and it might have to do with running into a tree at full speed while skiing and falling off a sailboat into jellyfish infested waters. (It is possible that when I was much younger I made some less than cautious choices.) And since I’m not fond of heights anymore, hang gliding is off the list as well.

So, after much deliberation and research (Daughter Helen always tells me to stop researching and just MAKE a decision), I found a replacement for this senior lamenting the old days of adventure—an ebike! I even got two female friends to buy themselves ones too. We now have our sights on the Katy Trail which crosses all of Missouri. We found a website that shows the B&Bs along the way, but so far we’ve only managed 8.4 miles on part of the Linear Trail here in Manhattan. I will say it had its challenges as the prairie wind was gusting over 20 miles an hour and for once I was glad the bike was heavy. 

And speaking of heavy, ebikes are different than regular bikes. They have a rechargeable battery that’s as heavy as a chunky baby, adding to the already heavy frame. I didn’t realize how different this was until I kept falling sideways while turning. I have since been practicing this much needed skill and avoiding sharp turns. There are five levels of “pedal assist” going from zero (you do all the work) to five (I assume very little effort but I’ve only made it up to three). The higher the pedal assist, the faster you are likely to go.

What’s hard is knowing that those things you enjoyed in the past are now simply out of your physical ability. I told one of my ebiking trio how I want to still be able to ride like I did at 20, pedaling up a steep incline on my seven speed boy’s bike and coming down as fast as possible, at times letting go of the handle bars. All she said was, “Well, we don’t want you to do that!”

I also got lots of warnings about riding an ebike:  “Don’t ride on gravel.” (I live on a gravel road and the only paved alternative is the highway.) “Don’t go off road.” (More on that later.) Rose thought I should wear a leather jacket to prevent scrapes, but I was afraid I’d look like someone pretending to ride a motorcycle while having a much delayed midlife crisis.

There’s a hill near my house on land rented out for haying. There’s something about it that reminds me of my life long pony dream. I decided that I would throw caution to the wind and ride my ebike on those hills, even with the warning not to go “off road”. There wasn’t a “No trespassing “ sign and the gate was always open. If the farmer saw me and was upset, I had my response all planned out. “I always dreamed of riding a pony across hills just like this, but it never happened and at my age it’s not going to. This is the closest thing to it and I hope you wouldn’t deny me that.” It might work. My son-in-law Ian suggested that I just say I got lost but I don’t think that sounds very believable.  As it turns out, I decided to just test it out for a very brief stint to the closest tree and back. I never made it to the tree as the grass hid such big bumps and dips that I turned around, relieved when I was back on the gravel road.

I may try and find another set of rolling hills to ride on, one that is smoother. But it’s more likely that I’ll accept the trail rides as my bucket list replacement.  Maybe I’ll name my bike Blaze Senior. Maybe I’ll get up to pedal assist four. I know I will feel the wind in my face and the rubber grip of the handlebars. That is, unless I dare to let go!