Long before I ever began this trip I had done research about gear and things I might need to know about before going on a tour. Much of what I learned was from a site called crazyguyonabike.com where people post journals of their trips, write on forums about a multitude of topics related to bicycle touring, and even sell their used gear. It's a simplistic version of facebook for this niche market in my opinion and much of what I knew prior to going on the trip I learned from this site and the kind people who post on it.
One of the things I learned from others is that there is often a moment when the "itch" creeps back in to a cyclist's mind upon finishing a trip. For some this can happen almost right away while others go years before getting the urge to ride again in this capacity. Personally, for me, the moment I reached the beach in Florence, Oregon I loathed riding a bicycle. I couldn't wait to join civilian life again and after a few days with our friend Chris who lives in Portland, I packed the bike in a box and loaded it on to a train headed to Cleveland by way of Chicago. The ride was fantastic, albeit long. I had the opportunity to meet a man from Whitefish, Montana who was a joy to talk to and taught me how to make baskets out of wire and beer bottle caps. After his stop I sat by myself most of the time so I took the time to read a book called Jesus For President by Shane Claiborne (a little out there for me, but worth a look). On top of that I enjoyed sitting in the observation car chatting with elderly people and taking pictures. It was really kind of eye opening to be tracking back through what I had just done by bicycle. The route was a bit different as we rode through Montana and North Dakota instead of Wyoming and South Dakota but when we reached Minnesota and Wisconsin I was back in many of the places that we had ridden through a month before. This did two things: brought a realization of how far I had ridden; made that distance seem much smaller on an effortless train ride.
By the time I had reached Cleveland I was tired and ready to be home, but I knew it would be different. I was different.
I no longer was the super neat freak who used to shower twice a day and my facial hair had been growing out the entire trip as part of an agreement with my brother (a far cry from having to shave everyday while working at Mama Roja to fund the trip). When I left Bedford, OH in May in a rental car for NYC I was a much more stressful version of myself. I used to concern myself with all sorts of small details but after two months my life had become much simpler.
Wake up (whenever the sun tells you to or body decides to).
Ride (and get used to the soreness of sitting on a saddle...every day).
Eat something (anything and as much as possible, with coffee preferably).
Ride (and complain about the soreness of sitting on a saddle).
Eat something else at a restaurant and take a mini bath in the restroom sink/brush teeth (a full breakfast if possible, and if not a calorie laden burger and fries).
Ride (and fall way behind Jared's weightless self).
Think to myself.
Stop and eat (either snacks from my pack or at a fast food joint).
Find a place to sleep and pray there's access to a shower.
Sleep (usually after not having the opportunity to take a shower).
Repeat.
Of course life wasn't really just this, but that's primarily what a day looked like with some picture taking mixed in. I really just had to find food, a place to sleep, and ride a bicycle. Those were my objectives and I liked it that way. I always had a purpose each morning, to get to the next place, and yet I was always on a new stretch of pavement so things were always exciting. I never knew what was ahead of me around the corner. Could be a huge uphill climb or a downhill drop, maybe even a waterfall or beautiful river view, perhaps even a bear. It was this constant awareness that the next moment could bring about just about anything that made this trip so unbelievable. There were wacky moments all along this journey as you have read about in either my journal or Jared's, and they defined the trip, and yet never ceased to amaze us.
But life after the trip has not been so simple. As I sit here writing this post I find myself facing what was always inevitable. If you look back at my earliest posts you'll read that I was almost dreading my life after the trip long before we ever pedaled our first mile. I knew that the substantial student loan debt would be looming and that I probably wouldn't know what to do in that next stage. If only I could have placed a bet on those things coming true I might have erased the debts from my winnings (although in winning would I be wrong and thus lose? Strange paradox).
And here I sit. After finishing the ride I no longer had the thrill of what the next day would bring. Some of you might say that every day is an adventure, but that's a bit cliche in my opinion, or perhaps not. Either way I know that for me personally I have yet to experience adventure in the days following this trip. The "itch" found me a few weeks ago and as I read back through some of Jared's posts it took me back to a lifestyle that I truly loved and appreciate even more in hindsight. Before you think this post is too grim, understand that I am excited in many ways about what is to come. It is just a bit difficult for me because I find myself in a place that I rarely am in due to lacking appreciation for the present. Back in Grand Teton National Park I wrote a post about how I longed to have what so many of the people I met had. That never left me and I still am incredibly optimistic for those things to come in their own time.
That is just one of the lessons I learned on this trip. Another was that after you see a few snakes you are bound to think a lot of things are snakes. I learned this in Idaho when we would ride over dead snakes on the shoulder of the highways. They were everywhere, but after awhile we would see bungee cords or cell phone chargers and sticks. I kept thinking they all were snakes and I always approached them with caution. I think this metaphorically applies to real life without a doubt. I saw just how true that was when I met Norm in the town of Douglas, Wyoming. If you remember reading about Norm, the man was heartbreaking to talk to. He showed us hospitality in a city park that he was living in as a homeless man out of the back of his pickup truck, not a friend in the world save for his dogs. He had met too many people who hurt him and let him down in his life and before long he no longer trusted anyone. His goal was to live alone in backcountry Montana and no matter how badly Jared or I may have wanted to restore his faith in humanity we knew that we could only play a small part in the process, hoping that eventually he would stop seeing people as snakes.
Another lesson I learned was that we are truly small, completely dependent upon so many things. As a cyclist I knew that I could die at any moment. I could hit a rock going fast down a hill and land on my head. I could be run over by a motorist or be hit by the wrench that someone threw at me and thankfully missed. There were countless times that I ran out of water on the road, usually in the most desolate of places (on the way to Lusk, WY, and 30 miles short). When you're on a bike you are lowered on the food chain so to speak in that you are virtually powerless, but this applies to real life really well. Whether it's a woman in Plankinton, South Dakota who feels trapped in a place she doesn't love living in or a successful man approaching retirement who is longing for the trip of a lifetime, we all find ourselves at a loss for complete control over every aspect of our lives. Because every breath might be our last and we do not have a say in when our time comes, we are to some degree left to be reactionary in nature. We have free will in so much as we are able to make limited decisions. I cannot will myself to be a 6'10" basketball player or even to wake up for another day tomorrow, but I can respond to my circumstance to the best of my ability. So many times along this journey I met people who had at one time or another realized their limited power over life, but I admired each and every one of them because the people I met had responded by making lemonade out of lemons. We don't always get the dream we've had since we were children (I'll probably never be a professional baseball player) but the only person who can keep us from changing our dreams over time is ourselves.
I would like to say I learned a few more things about life, but those are some of the main things that left an impact on me. The journey was incredibly difficult at times. I often wanted to quit and feared I didn't have what it took either mentally, physically, or both. There were so many times that I was up a creek without a paddle, but in those times God always provided. God didn't always make my life easier, but just knowing I was never alone made it so much more tolerable. The bottom line, the words, "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me" came to life for me on this trip. An unexceptional person (overweight, underachieving) was able to accomplish something much bigger than himself. I never stopped being overweight or underachieving along the way and I think that speaks even more for how great God really is to get me through it.
As I look at my options for this next stage of my life (Navy, career, or grad school) I am somewhat fearful if I am to be honest. It feels like the biggest mountain pass I've yet to face, but God put people in my life to get over every hill I had to climb so far and I know I'm not alone on this one either. Perhaps the one thing that I never could get used to on this trip was that I so often met people along the way who made a great impact on me and with whom I connected so much with in such a short and fleeting moment. There are many people I will never hear from again but never forget. We are all just one big fragmented family here on earth and it will never cease to amaze me how beautiful people are when we invite them in to our lives and they invite us into theirs.
I can turn on any news channel and hear of all the brokenness and destruction in this world and sometimes it can be discouraging, but the bottom line is that this world is made up of beautiful people trying their best to live this fragile and wonderful thing called life. We are all interconnected by thin and delicate thread, all too often easily broken from unkind words or actions, but in the end I am truly grateful for being a microscopic piece in this beautiful tapestry we call the world. If there is one thing you take from my trip this summer I pray that this is the most lasting thing you read, that everyone we encounter has a story worth hearing no matter how upset we might get with them for cutting us off or messing up our latte or firing us from our jobs.
I urge us to love everyone, but this is easier to say than to do. Thankfully for a few college guys: Carson, Jared, Travis, and Matt, there were people who made the effort to reach out and trust us without any cause. It made all the difference.
Thank you. God bless. Keep in touch. Be a blessing to someone each chance you get.
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