Do More Of What You Love

Do more of what you love sounds simple, but in the pace of everyday life, it’s often the first thing we forget.

There’s something about being outside that calms me, settles me, brings me back to myself. Not in a dramatic, life-altering way. But in the quiet, steady way that matters more.The way the world softens.The way my thoughts slow down. The way I can finally hear my own breath again.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about play. About fulfillment. About the simple, often overlooked truth that doing more of what we love isn’t indulgent. It’s essential. It clears the mind. It warms the heart. It ignites the soul.

And over time, many of us forget.

It was March 2020 in the Hudson Valley. Early for riding outside, but we made it work. Fat tire bikes, extra layers, and our own mix of grit and gratitude that comes with stretching a season.

Growing up in Central New York, my dad used to say, “We’re lucky to get three good months of boating. If we stretch it, we might get four.”

Memorial Day to Labor Day. Maybe a bonus weekend or two if the weather cooperates. Cycling felt the same way when I lived in the Northeast. You rode when you could. You chased the light. You dressed in layers. You made it count. There was something sacred about that. Limited time made it meaningful.

Now we live in New Mexico, where we can ride year-round. Blue skies. Open roads. Access in a way we once only imagined. And there’s a quiet gratitude in that, shaped by all the seasons that came before.

Because it turns out, fulfillment isn’t just about access. It’s about resonance.

Over the years, Jim and I have found different ways to come back to ourselves. Cycling has always been at the center. But there’s also been the water. I still remember the first time I tried stand-up paddleboarding in San Diego. Instant love. The same feeling I had the first time I clipped into a bike and rode without thinking. Later, in Costa Rica, we bought a board. Then kayaks. Then mornings on the Hudson River, watching the sun rise in complete stillness.

On the bike, we layered up to extend the season. On the water, we wore wetsuits. We figured it out. Because when something matters, you find a way to stay connected to it.

And then life happens.

Late last year, Jim went through two hip replacements. There was a season when riding wasn’t possible. Where movement looked different. Where healing required patience, trust, and time. But if you know Jim, you know this:

He’s a cyclist.

Not just because he rides a bike. But because it’s part of who he is. So little by little, he made his way back. Back on the bike. Back outside. Back to something that reminds him who he is. Not perfectly. Not all at once. But steadily.

And there’s something incredibly powerful in witnessing that.

We often ask why we invest in passions we can’t access year-round. Why we buy the gear. Why we carve out the time. Why we rearrange our lives for something that might look optional from the outside. But it’s not optional. It’s the place we go to remember. To remember what it feels like to be free. To remember what it feels like to be fully present. To remember who we are beneath the roles, the responsibilities, and the noise.

For me, it’s the wind in my face on a bike ride. It’s the stillness of the water at sunrise. It’s laughter, play, and those small, sacred moments that don’t need to be productive to be meaningful. It’s choosing, again and again, to return to what I love. To simply, BE.

These days, that looks like riding under wide New Mexico skies. It looks like traveling north to Elephant Butte to enjoy the water and reclaim recess. It looks like honoring the season we’re in, while staying open to what might be calling us next. It looks like making space for play. For joy. For the things that bring me back to center.

Because in a world that moves fast and asks a lot, this is the work. Not more striving. Not more pushing. But more remembering.

Do more of what you love. Not because you’ve earned it. Not because you have extra time. But because it’s the very thing that helps you feel safe, seen, fulfilled, and empowered in your own life.

And that’s reason enough.

 

©2026 Lori Ann King