Therapist on a Bike: What I Learned from the MS150

As a therapist, I'm always attuned to patterns—how we grow, how we connect, and how we respond to challenge. Recently, I participated in the MS150, a 150-mile charity bike ride that supports research and care for those living with multiple sclerosis.

While I joined to support a great cause and push myself physically, I walked—or rather, rode—away with insights that echoed many of the themes I see in my work: the strength of community, the importance of stepping outside our comfort zones, the grounding power of nature, and the value of setting meaningful goals.

These are lessons I’ve believed in, but the ride gave me a chance to experience them in a new way.

The Value of Community

Riding in the MS150 isn’t a solo endeavor. Even if you’re on your own bike, you’re never really alone. From the early morning volunteers handing out water, to the fellow riders offering encouragement, to sharing a tent with hundreds of others, the ride is a reminder of how powerful community can be when it’s intentionally built and nurtured.

In the months leading up to the event, I found myself seeing many of the same faces on weekend training rides. What began as a shared commitment to ride, slowly grew into something more—a space to connect, not just on the bike but in conversation. Over the course of hours in the saddle, we talked about everything from our favorite playlists to the hardships that had brought some of us to cycling in the first place. These weren't curated, surface-level exchanges; they were real, spontaneous, and often surprisingly deep.

In my work, I often see how disconnected many people feel, despite being constantly “connected” through technology.

Real community takes more than just proximity or shared interests; it takes time, consistency, and a willingness to show up. The MS150 training rides offered exactly that. Week after week, riding alongside the same people, conversations began to deepen. Without forcing it, we created something meaningful—connection that was built not through big moments, but through small, steady ones. That’s the kind of connection that supports growth and makes people feel less alone.

Getting Out of Your Comfort Zone

Whether you’re an experienced cyclist or a first-time rider, 150 miles isn’t easy. Preparing for this event required months of training, facing physical discomfort, and learning to stay present through uncertainty and challenge. That discomfort, while challenging, was also clarifying. Growth rarely happens in comfort. That’s true on the bike and it’s true in therapy.

One of the takeaways for me was how self-care doesn’t always look like rest. Sometimes, yes, self-care means slowing down and giving yourself space. But other times, it means challenging yourself—showing up for a tough ride, pushing through when you want to quit, and discovering what you’re capable of. It’s not about glorifying struggle, but about recognizing that growth and healing sometimes come from effort, discomfort, and perseverance.

There were certain training rides I’d heard about in advance—routes known for steep climbs or long distances. Heading into them, I often felt a mix of uncertainty and self-doubt. It reminded me of the emotional territory many of us face when approaching something that stretches us: the quiet question of “Can I really do this?” But on the other side of those rides was something equally familiar—pride. Not just in completing the ride, but in having stayed with something difficult, moved through the discomfort, and come out with a deeper sense of capability. It was a reminder that confidence often isn’t a prerequisite for doing hard things—it’s something we build by doing them.

We grow when we stretch beyond the familiar, whether that’s riding a little farther than we thought we could, or speaking a truth in session that we’ve never said out loud. The discomfort is part of the process—not a sign we’re doing it wrong, but a sign we’re doing something meaningful.

The Healing Power of the Outdoors

Bellville training ride - a sea of bluebonnets and wildflowers

One of the things I knew I’d love about the MS150 training was the opportunity to be outside—riding through open fields, along winding roads, and through quiet stretches of nature, away from the bustle of Houston.

The physical challenge was certainly present, but there was something deeply restorative about being surrounded by the natural world. Nature has a way of putting things into perspective, reminding us of how small we are and yet how connected we are to everything around us.

Those training rides became a moving meditation, where I could focus on the rhythm of my breath, the feel of the wind, and the present moment.

In therapy, we often talk about the importance of mindfulness. Nature has an incredible way of helping us do just that—by gently drawing our attention away from the noise in our minds and inviting us to simply be.

Setting and Pursuing Meaningful Goals

What makes a goal worth pursuing? For me, it’s less about achievement and more about alignment: Does the goal reflect your values? Does it challenge you in a way that builds rather than depletes?

The MS150 isn’t just a ride—it’s a cause. That deeper meaning made the early mornings and long training rides feel purposeful. And that purpose fueled my motivation in a way that pure performance goals never could.

In therapy, I often help people clarify what they’re aiming for and why. Goals rooted in values tend to be the ones that sustain us through the hard parts. They provide direction, meaning, and a reason to keep going, even when things get uncomfortable.

Final Thoughts

The MS150 was more than a ride—it was a moving example (literally and figuratively) of how growth unfolds in real time. Whether we’re building new habits, working through emotional challenges, or showing up for something bigger than ourselves, the process often looks the same: small steps, shared effort, and a willingness to keep going even when it's hard.

These lessons stay with me—on and off the bike—and they continue to shape the way I show up for my clients, my community, and myself.

-Catherine Comiskey, LCSW