A phrase often heard in physical training programs, from triathletes to bicyclists to climbers to yogis, is "working your edge." No matter what level of experience we have attained in a given sport, there is always a level of activity or mental acuity beyond that which we are familiar. There is always a more open or more human experience waiting, just outside of our comfort zone. Sometimes the highest experience is far outside that comfort zone, in fact.

As it is in learning anything — and this life is for the learning. You remember watching with some admiration and anxiety as your older brother or sister stepped on the right pedal, swung himself effortlessly onto the seat, dropped his other foot precisely to the rubber corrugation of the far pedal, already spinning, already turning earth beneath the wheels, already away with the grace of mastery. With the freedom of mastery, and there it was, the just-intangible, just out of reach of your short legs, your short years, your poise growing every day, and with it your desire and readiness.

The "edge" was not the bicycle, nor was it riding the bicycle. Maybe you could have jumped aboard that very day and had your first lesson and first tumble. The edge was in fact a line drawn in the sands of your mind, over which you were not prepared to cross, and probably not even willing to face without some guidance, a teacher or a parent or an elder who had stood, fallen, rolled, and ridden over their own imaginary line: "See? It can be done. I am proof."