Friction. A catalyst for growth

My son recently learned how to ride a bicycle. I bought him a little used orange bike on Facebook Marketplace, and it took him about 3 minutes to get the hang of it after being on a Strider for a few years. I was stunned to see how quickly he rode it!

When I picked up the bike, I thought, “Wow, this is heavy!” but chalked it up to being a pedal bike versus a strider, and thought, as I do with all things, that he’ll grow into it. However, after a few days of riding it, it became clear that the bike is just a super clunky one that’s too heavy for a 4-year-old to ride. The difference was stark when a friend and I took our boys to a skatepark, and he could barely get up the tiny mounds, while his friend was nimble and quick. 

My husband and I were talking about it a few days later, as he had noticed what I had. He immediately said, “We should get him a lighter, better bike,” and while there was part of me that wanted to make it easy on him and upgrade his first bike, I also thought about how strong this clunky little bike was making him. After riding this one for a few months, he would be able to ride any other bike he gets with ease. The bike is creating friction that would ultimately make him a better overall bike rider. And while he may not have chosen the heavier, harder-to-ride bike for himself, I know he’ll be better for it. 

It made me start to think about the friction in my life that has either encouraged or, at times, even forced my growth in some way. Even when, and maybe especially when, I wouldn’t have picked it for myself.

On my high school swim team, we’d all grow our body hair out for the entire season to create as much drag in the water as possible, and then shave it all right before regionals or state to achieve that nice, smooth, frictionless skin that'd glide through the water as quickly as possible. We probably only skimmed a millisecond off our races, but we felt like dolphins in the water… frictionless. 

When I was pregnant, my whole body was generating friction against the air around me, forcing me to move through the world more slowly and carefully. A whole 9 months of friction-filled living! Probably exactly what I needed right before motherhood. 

Emotionally, when something difficult happens in a relationship – whether it's my marriage or a friendship – it creates friction between me and my everyday M.O. There are “sticking points” – a fault of mine that my husband has pointed out to me, or a disagreement I’ve had with my dad, or a cyclical issue I’ve had with a friend that I keep rolling over in my mind – where friction has slowed me down. 

These friction points sometimes stop me dead in my tracks or just entangle me in my own mind. But they are usually the catalysts for my growth if I can just find the proper lubricant. Yep, I used that word. My ability to digest, integrate, and navigate from a new, smoother place is the lubricant that reduces friction between me and my path.

Digest.
This is the pause. The breath. The moment when I stop pedaling and just sit on the bike, letting the weight of it settle into my bones. I feel the full brunt of the friction — the ache, the resistance, the awkward heaviness. I don’t rush this part. I don’t try to fix it, explain it, or even share it. I just let it be in my body. Sometimes for hours, sometimes for weeks. 

Integrate.
This is where I begin to turn the crank again, but slower, more intentionally. I replay the moment, the words, the mistake, the lesson. I turn it over and play with it. I ask questions. I sit with the answers. I imagine someone else’s view. I let the grit of the experience become part of me — not as something to hide, but as something that strengthens my grip on the ride ahead. I fully absorb the knowledge and its consequences. 

Navigate anew.
This is the shift. The smoother chain. The stronger legs. The lighter feeling that comes not from things being easier, but from me becoming more equipped. Like my son, after months on that clunky bike, I can now ride the hills with more ease — not because they changed, but because I did. This is not a return to who I was before, but a movement forward, with more strength, more awareness, and more freedom.

Friction doesn’t just slow us down. It teaches us how to move — with presence, power, and wholeness.

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