End of the line?
In my post earlier today I related that I was having a struggle on this trip. It's not just the most physically demanding undertaking it's actually the most mentally/emotionally demanding undertaking I've ever encountered. Moreso, even, than Burning Man. I've been on the verge of crying at least once a day for the last week.
After this mornings post, Ivan and I took off on Rt 20 heading to Loup Loup Pass. Not a particularly hard climb (although our muscles are stiff from not stretching yesterday) and the heat of yesterday replaced by cloud cover and a cool breeze. A slow climb in granny gears but a piece of cake compared to both Newhalem and the Rainey/Mt Washington passes. But...I lost it. I found myself by the side of the road sobbing uncontrollably. Ivan, who had been ahead, parked his bike, and walked back to me. He walked my bike to where his was and then hugged me while I cried.
Let me be clear here, going on this trip with Ivan was *my* idea. I have felt that, for too long, life has been passing me by and I wanted to do something BIG. Something that I could look back on later with pride and sense of accomplishment. Doing it with the man that I love would be icing on the cake. But now I am really afraid that this is too big. That I should have started with smaller, more manageable trips to get a sense of what I was going to be facing: the hill climbs, the heat, the weight of the bike. I've only had this particular bike since April and haven't ridden it very much compared to what needs to happen to ride 3300 miles.
And my heart is breaking at the thought that I just can't do this. That I'm soft. That I'm giving up too soon. That I'm a big loser. That if I stop now, I may forever regret that choice and how that choice might affect me. Ivan is proud of me but I want to be proud of myself and I'm not feeling that way at the moment.
So we've ridden the 5 miles back to Twisp where we had a late breakfast and are now at an internet cafe - our first solid internet access point in days - with a couple of possible plans in the works.
We'll go back to the RV park we stayed at last night and just relax. Maybe go swimming. And we'll see how I feel in the morning. In the meantime, we'll make contact with friends who may be able to drive up here on either Friday or Saturday and pick me and my bike up as well as bring Ivan his smaller tent. He'll continue with the trip solo as I really, really want him to. (I would never want my limitations to stand in the way of his aspirations.) I would fly to Virginia in September and meet him there when he gets to the end of the trail and we'll fly back home together.
Anyway, that's the situation at present. I'm going to take some time to rest and think and make a final decision in the morning.
After this mornings post, Ivan and I took off on Rt 20 heading to Loup Loup Pass. Not a particularly hard climb (although our muscles are stiff from not stretching yesterday) and the heat of yesterday replaced by cloud cover and a cool breeze. A slow climb in granny gears but a piece of cake compared to both Newhalem and the Rainey/Mt Washington passes. But...I lost it. I found myself by the side of the road sobbing uncontrollably. Ivan, who had been ahead, parked his bike, and walked back to me. He walked my bike to where his was and then hugged me while I cried.
Let me be clear here, going on this trip with Ivan was *my* idea. I have felt that, for too long, life has been passing me by and I wanted to do something BIG. Something that I could look back on later with pride and sense of accomplishment. Doing it with the man that I love would be icing on the cake. But now I am really afraid that this is too big. That I should have started with smaller, more manageable trips to get a sense of what I was going to be facing: the hill climbs, the heat, the weight of the bike. I've only had this particular bike since April and haven't ridden it very much compared to what needs to happen to ride 3300 miles.
And my heart is breaking at the thought that I just can't do this. That I'm soft. That I'm giving up too soon. That I'm a big loser. That if I stop now, I may forever regret that choice and how that choice might affect me. Ivan is proud of me but I want to be proud of myself and I'm not feeling that way at the moment.
So we've ridden the 5 miles back to Twisp where we had a late breakfast and are now at an internet cafe - our first solid internet access point in days - with a couple of possible plans in the works.
We'll go back to the RV park we stayed at last night and just relax. Maybe go swimming. And we'll see how I feel in the morning. In the meantime, we'll make contact with friends who may be able to drive up here on either Friday or Saturday and pick me and my bike up as well as bring Ivan his smaller tent. He'll continue with the trip solo as I really, really want him to. (I would never want my limitations to stand in the way of his aspirations.) I would fly to Virginia in September and meet him there when he gets to the end of the trail and we'll fly back home together.
Anyway, that's the situation at present. I'm going to take some time to rest and think and make a final decision in the morning.
posted by maryja at
12:13 PM
3 Comments:
Mary, I hope you stick with it, but I know I couldn't do even what you've done so far. Not continuing is in no way a failure---you are remarkable for making the attempt! Even to this point, you're inspiring me. Because of what you're doing, in part, I'm committing to making some real decisions about my life path by the end of the month. Good luck---you've accomplished a great deal already, I hope you're able to continue!
Mary,
Not continuing on the trip is no indication of anything other than listening to your higher self and making a determination as to weither or not you want/should continue. Lets see.. a new house.. a husband... and a bike ride across the USA.. How is that failure if you decide to postpone the ride.
I would like to see you continue as I think that what you are experencing all of us would experence. I for one would totally be in the same place as you are and would be considering the same thing..
Be well. Hold each other and love each other.. There is no failure in life.. All one can do is experence it in there own way.
Mary, I haven't met you yet, but I was a classmate of Ivan's at BUSM and have been reading your blog the past few days. I'm a good friend of Roselie Rasmussen, btw. Small world!
Your journey is inspiring! You're making me consider a cross-country ride. Coincidentally, I'm about to take off on a bike trip myself, not exactly sure where, but heading north from Vashon Island up into Canada and then going wherever the winds take me. Probably a month or two of riding and hiking.
With introductions out of the way, I want to tell you a story, because I can TOTALLY relate to your situation. In 1999 I set out to hike the Pacific Crest Trail from Mexico to Canada (2600 miles). I spent months planning the hike, honing my gear and preparing enough food boxes to be mailed to myself along the way. When I got to Lake Tahoe (about the 1/2-way point), I decided to leave the trail. It was a heart-wrenching decision. I rented a car and drove home to Seattle. I wasn't 100% sure why I was leaving the trail, but over time it became clear to me that I felt I was RUSHING too fast, hiking high-mileage days in order to make it to Canada by early September. I blitzed through the spectacular High Sierras and it broke my heart.
In subsequent summers, I "section hiked" the rest of the PCT, going at a slower pace and stopping to enjoy the places along the way. Much better for me. But obviously not for everybody, since every year a bunch of people thru-hike the entire trail in one season. The trick was learning that I didn't like the "thru-hiker hurry". Once I started section-hiking, I would stop each day somewhere beautiful for lunch, go swimming in a river or lake, take a nap in the afternoon, and generally act as though I had lots of time... which I did, because I stopped thru-hiking.
But how could I have known that before I started my thru-hike? I don't think I could. The way to learn about yourself is OUT THERE, doing it! Then you become more precise about what experiences and challenges you want to take on, and which ones you don't.
I also went on a 3-month bike tour, so I'm aware of the similarities and differences compared to hiking. One thing you have going for you ––and it's the reason I'm writing you this LONG comment at midnight–– is that you have TREMENDOUS flexibility on a bicycle. You can bike 100 miles a day every day, and many bike tourists do. Or you can bike 20-50 miles a day, and that's an entirely different but equally awesome experience. I've done both. Neither is better. Since you can decide each day where to stop, and you can get food and water wherever you want along the way, you're free to change your pace and your schedule and your destination. A thru-hiker is, in many ways, a slave to his food supply and the hours of the next Post Office. A bike tourer is much more free. So I encourage you to consider: instead of an all-or-nothing "thru-pedal" vs "go back to Seattle", broaden your horizons to consider different rhythms, mileages, destinations, ways of spending your days. Perhaps several days of riding interspersed with a day or two in a wonderful place, walking around a town or lounging. Perhaps you do low-mileage days for a couple weeks until you build up your "recumbent legs", as they say. (I'm worried about the same issue, as this will be my first recumbent tour and I feel weak compared to my normal diamond-frame riding.) Perhaps you and Ivan can take sometimes-differing routes in which he takes a big looping detour and meets you some miles down the road, so he can ride harder and further on some days and you can go slower and shorter. Just a thought. The crux, as I see it, is whether Ivan is set on reaching Virgina Beach at all, and if so, by a certain date. If he's flexible about either the destination or the date, then you two can change-up your "plan" as your trip unfolds. Who knows, maybe you'll end up doing a loop trip and never riding to Virginia? Anything is possible. Just don't give up too quick. Ride for awhile and find out what, if anything, feels good to you.
My unsolicited advice,
David Long
Trail name: "Longwalker"
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