A new life on spokes

I’ve traveled the world before. I spent nearly two years hopping from continents with a 46 liter backpack and an old pair of running shoes. Eventually I realized it was time to go home to Phoenix. I rejoined my trail running group. I resumed shenanigans with my friends as if we’d never been apart. I slept in my warm, comfy bed with my old but true Collie once again, drifting to dreamland at the soft sound of his doggie snores. 

This time it’s different. I am leaving everything. I sold my car, my beloved house is on the market, and I’ve said farewell to my closest friends. I have sold or given away almost everything I own. I am even leaving my daughters behind. They are both adults now,  discovering their own paths. I’ve raised two independent and spirited young women, and though they are grown I am still young in my thirties. 

I’ve traded in my backpack for a bicycle. I’m excited for this adventure, but I also know it won’t always be easy. When you’re trekking the world on foot, the most challenging thing you may have to worry about is navigating bus schedules, or maybe a blister here and there. On bicycle, there are so many things that can go wrong. Broken chains, flat tires, worn brake pads, dangerous roads, flat tires, wild dogs that like to chase, damaged ulnar nerves, chafing, mechanical breakdowns, and did I mention flat tires? I have to rely on my novice mechanical skills, though describing them as ‘skills’  feels very generous. I’ll have to navigate roads and towns and mountains, all while pushing myself to my outermost limits. Some days will be exhilarating, others will feel exhausting. 

I have few dollars to my name, no job, no partner. I have no house to go back to, nothing in my back pocket. I know that my friends will always remain a strong support for me, and maybe the toughest challenge I will face is being apart from them for so long, not knowing when I’ll return. The last time I left the country, I had a few people cheering me on. Now I have an entire community. That is, perhaps, the very thing that keeps me brave and motivated. It’s a reminder that no matter where I am in the world, I will always belong. 

People are either impressed, excited, or scared for me. At my farewell party someone said, “that’s the way to do it.” I’m actually not a fan of that sentiment. There are a thousand ways to travel and see the world, I’m just doing it the way that works (let’s hope) for me. That way doesn’t work for everyone, it probably doesn’t work for most people. And honestly, my preference would be to have a safety net. I would love to have the peace of mind of a robust savings account or Roth if I ever needed it. I would love to have family to come home to if I got too tired or realized I needed to call it. That sounds pretty ideal. I don’t have those things. I’m almost blindly going into this. That’s just a product of my personality. I suck at planning, I’m totally unorganized, and I live moment to moment.

I don’t share my stories with the intent to tell people how they should live their lives. I’m not even making recommendations or suggestions. I’m sharing my stories for a broader purpose. I want to inspire and delight people, not to follow my lead but to follow their own path, which will likely look very different than mine. I want to help people realize that the limits we place on ourselves can be surpassed, we are always capable of much more than we tend to believe of ourselves. We don’t have to be stupid about it (though I admit I sometimes am). But we should do things that challenge us and take us out of our comfort zones. How else will we really be able to experience what we are capable of, in our bodies and in our minds? It is in my toughest moments, or more accurately the moments after the toughest moments, that I realize my own potential, and bit by bit my self-confidence builds.

You don’t have to travel to gain that level of awareness. You don’t have to run marathons or cycle long distances. Those are the things that do it for me, because that’s what pushes me out of my comfort zone so that I can experience a level of power. And maybe that’s what it’s about. Power is a critical factor in everything we do. When we have it we feel good about ourselves. When we’re denied it, we feel worse. There are so many things we do not have power over. It can become so overwhelming that we focus all our worrying and energy on that, rather than the things that we do have power over. When I was a therapist, I used the circle of control with every one of my clients (because no one who feels in complete control of their lives comes to therapy). I would have them draw themselves, and then draw a big circle around them. Outside the circle I’d have them write all the things they’re worrying about which they can’t control or have little power over. Then I’d have them reflect on what they do have control over, and they would write that inside the circle. An easy one is; I have no control over the weather, but I do have control over what I bring with me to prepare for it. I would remind my client to look inside their circle whenever they started worrying about something that was outside the circle.

This applies to so much of our lives. I haven’t had an easy one. My childhood was brutal and I suffered a lot of damage to myself, which created this cyclical process of self-pity and offering myself on someone else’s altar without realizing until the stake is already through my chest. Broken hearts, bullying at work, abandonment, lost friends. Those are hurts and pain we can’t control. When I am cycling over mountains and across highways, trekking across the globe, it is fun but at times it’s really hard. I curse myself as I’m verrrrryyy sloooooowwly pedaling uphill, uphill, uphill. My quads are screaming back at me and sweat is dripping down my forehead as trucks zoom past me on the highway. Or worse, I’m battling cold headwinds that numb my fingers and face. I look up with a wish in my heart that the top is near, only to be greeted by yet another curve around the mountain, revealing more incline. The desperation for descents coalesces with feelings of elation. I feel free. I feel free because there’s something so empowering about knowing I chose this. This was a decision I made, and I made that decision because I believe in myself. I no longer have to feel powerless in my own life. My days are no longer dictated by bills that keep piling up, or bosses that take credit for my successes and shame me for my failures, or deadlines that come at me like a speeding bus. I’ve worked in a directionless career in a brutally libertine industry. I’ve experienced heartbreak, abandonment, low self-esteem. For most of my life I’ve felt so powerless. On my bike, I take my power and I wield it. 

So here we go… on spokes, I head into my new life!