Yesterday in Portland, Maine, Rich Fowler and I completed our coast-to-coast bike trip. It was the moment that had been our goal since we started in San Francisco on May 27. The finish was a wonderful moment of joy and triumph, and a great celebration of friendship and family, but it did not come without mixed feelings. At one point in the immediate aftermath Rich said to me, “Hey buddy, we don’t have to ride tomorrow.” I said, “That’s true, but it’s also true that we don’t get to ride tomorrow.”
I am a counter. Like “The Count” on Sesame Street, I love to count things. It is just something I do, pretty much automatically. So every day I would find myself counting down the miles – “22 miles down, 48 to go,” etc. I often had to distract myself to keep from doing it every mile. I did the same thing with the days – “40 days down, 18 to go.” In this way I always had some focus on the end of the ride, each day and the whole thing. Each day was tiring, of course, but seldom exhausting. The discomfort on my rear end did progress throughout each day, but was certainly within manageable limits, especially with the breaks we took every ten miles. So to a certain extent the daily countdowns prevented me from being “in the moment,” really appreciating what I was doing right then.
So what was I doing “right then?” I was doing several things, all of which added up to a wonderful whole. I was pedaling my marvelous machine, so efficient and so well-fitted to my body, propelling it up and down hills and easily over the flat areas. I was immersed in nature, ranging from dense forests to craggy mountains to lakes and rivers to pasture to cropland, always with birdsong and occasionally with deer, elk, and other animals. I was riding with Rich, almost always trading the lead every mile, often wordlessly. Sometimes not a word was said for miles; at other times we engaged in serious conversation or banter, always getting to know each other better and deepening our friendship. We were constant companions, relying on each other’s help and encouragement, depending on the other’s presence. Finally, we were in the midst of an epic journey, moving daily under our own power across this great continent.
All of those things are now finished, and I will miss them. As much as we have been successful in reaching our goal, it’s very true that we don’t get to do those things anymore.
I am a counter. Like “The Count” on Sesame Street, I love to count things. It is just something I do, pretty much automatically. So every day I would find myself counting down the miles – “22 miles down, 48 to go,” etc. I often had to distract myself to keep from doing it every mile. I did the same thing with the days – “40 days down, 18 to go.” In this way I always had some focus on the end of the ride, each day and the whole thing. Each day was tiring, of course, but seldom exhausting. The discomfort on my rear end did progress throughout each day, but was certainly within manageable limits, especially with the breaks we took every ten miles. So to a certain extent the daily countdowns prevented me from being “in the moment,” really appreciating what I was doing right then.
So what was I doing “right then?” I was doing several things, all of which added up to a wonderful whole. I was pedaling my marvelous machine, so efficient and so well-fitted to my body, propelling it up and down hills and easily over the flat areas. I was immersed in nature, ranging from dense forests to craggy mountains to lakes and rivers to pasture to cropland, always with birdsong and occasionally with deer, elk, and other animals. I was riding with Rich, almost always trading the lead every mile, often wordlessly. Sometimes not a word was said for miles; at other times we engaged in serious conversation or banter, always getting to know each other better and deepening our friendship. We were constant companions, relying on each other’s help and encouragement, depending on the other’s presence. Finally, we were in the midst of an epic journey, moving daily under our own power across this great continent.
All of those things are now finished, and I will miss them. As much as we have been successful in reaching our goal, it’s very true that we don’t get to do those things anymore.
More reflections to come in future days.
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