Riding With ‘The Boys’

Healing From an Affair One Ride at a Time.

Do you remember the final moment you trusted your partner— and the long road spent recovering from the betrayal afterward? I do.

On my first bike ride after I learned I would soon be facing a divorce, it took every bit of resolve just to push myself up the first hill.

I cried, but no one noticed because it was a hot day, and I just swiped away the gritty tracks running down my face. I hadn’t eaten for two days, and my body and spirit felt unnourished, broken.

Divorce is like a death, but less finite, more like a series of injuries that rips every bit of certainty from your existence, slowly and deliberately, usually by the person you trusted and relied upon the most.

“You’ve got this!” my sister’s voice was confident as she held my hand, while her eyes reflected far less certainty as to me surviving my impending divorce. I think she also muttered “motherfucker” under her breath, probably for good measure.

Having trouble prying myself from the bed, my anxiety was so acute that I could not sleep, or rest and my mind ran in circles, replaying the word ‘divorce’ over again. To alleviate some anxiety, I had a faint desire to get…