There’s a rhododendron that grows on the side of my house. In spring its vibrant blooms stretch up toward the sun.

I’ve lived in this house for years, but it wasn’t until this past spring that I smelled the rhody’s blossoms for the first time. This occurred to me on a beautifully warm, sunny spring day in my quaint writer’s study. And by writer’s study, I mean my kitchen table with a stack of dirty dishes in sight. In years past, I likely would’ve been somewhere riding on the other side of the world—away from the bounty of my yard and day-to-day cleaning duties. It’s been quite a ride over the past year, to say the least, but here are some observations from “the other side.”

Observation one: There is no such thing as aging out. Sure, I might have already arrived at the point where my body can’t bounce off the ground without suffering hearty deficits. And my care for upkeeping industry relationships no longer exists if there is no personal bond. But I can’t even begin to explain to you how good it feels to not feel the pressure of chasing a professional mountain biking career anymore.