Focus Man: The Plan
The ride wasn't scheduled to leave until nine, but Focus Man arrived twenty minutes early anyway.
The parking lot was nearly empty when he pulled in. A few cyclists were already unloading bikes, but most had not yet arrived. The morning air was cool, and the sunlight had only begun to reach the tops of the trees surrounding the trailhead.
He leaned his bike against the car and took a slow look around.
The route had already been decided. The weather forecast looked good. Everyone knew where they were going.
There was nothing left to plan.
Yet he found himself reviewing it anyway.
The distance.
The regroup points.
The expected pace.
The location of the coffee stop.
Not because anything was likely to go wrong.
Just because that was what he did.
By quarter to nine, the parking lot had filled.
Riders gathered in small groups. Tires were checked. Helmets buckled. Conversations drifted from cycling to grandchildren to local politics and back again.
Someone walked over and smiled.
"You always arrive first."
"Not always," Focus Man said.
"Close enough."
The rider laughed.
"You're the only person I know who has the ride planned before the rest of us have finished our coffee."
Focus Man laughed too.
The comment wasn't criticism.
It was true.
A few minutes later another rider arrived late and immediately began asking questions.
How many miles?
Which route?
Where's the first regroup?
Are we stopping for coffee?
Several people pointed toward Focus Man.
"He knows."
The answers came easily.
Not because he had memorized them.
Because he had already thought about them.
Soon the group rolled out of the parking lot and onto the road.
For the first few miles, everything unfolded exactly as planned.
Then reality arrived.
One rider missed a turn.
Another decided to shorten the route.
A third wanted to stop for a photograph.
The group stretched apart and reformed several times.
The neat little plan that existed in the parking lot began to change shape.
As it always did.
Somewhere along a quiet stretch of road, he found himself thinking about the comment.
You always have a plan.
It was true.
He liked knowing where things were headed.
Not because he expected everything to happen exactly as planned.
Experience had taught him otherwise.
Plans changed.
Weather changed.
People changed.
Life certainly changed.
The plan wasn't there to guarantee the outcome.
The plan simply gave everyone a place to begin.
He thought about how often he did it.
Trips.
Projects.
Meetings.
Even simple family gatherings.
He found himself looking ahead, considering possibilities, quietly preparing for things that might never happen.
There had been a time, long ago, when he assumed tomorrow would look a lot like today.
Children usually do.
At some point that certainty disappeared.
Not all at once.
Not in a way he understood at the time.
But once it was gone, he never entirely stopped looking ahead.
The road curved through open country.
A rider pulled alongside and pointed toward a distant mountain.
Another called out a joke.
Someone laughed.
The ride continued.
Messier than the plan.
Better than the plan.
And suddenly he realized something.
The plan had never been about control.
It wasn't an attempt to keep life from changing.
Nothing could do that.
The plan was simply a way of meeting the future with open eyes.
He smiled to himself and settled back into the rhythm of the ride.
Ahead, the group had already missed another turn.
Someone was waving from the intersection.
Someone else was laughing.
The plan, once again, was falling apart.
Everything was exactly as it should be.
Posted in focus-man by Geoff Stevens