Unclipping!

About a week ago, as I was riding, I thought to myself that this long haul wasn’t really "fun" anymore. Now, I don’t define "fun" the same way a teenager might—a day at the amusement park, playing video games, or a midnight dance. Actually, I’ve been to an amusement park and played video games, but I’ve never attended a midnight dance, so I can’t say if that would be fun or not. I digress! I attributed the lack of "fun" to fatigue, long hard days, and perhaps the middle-of-the-trip blues. I knew we were getting several days off in Brenham and assumed that two scoops of Blue Bell ice cream and two nights in a Walmart parking lot would help me get my groove back.

After Brenham, I intentionally tried—often successfully—to find the beauty along the journey, to appreciate my good health, and to be grateful for the opportunity to take this trip. I kept telling myself to enjoy the journey, but the truth is, I never quite rediscovered the joy in it. This is the fifth 1,000+ mile bike tour I’ve taken, along with a 500+ mile hike across Spain. On past adventures, even on the worst days, when I wanted to quit, pack up, and head home, I always had a deep-down desire to complete the trip. But over the course of several hundred miles on this journey, I realized that desire was missing. I knew I had a couple of options:

Over a beer last night, I shared my feelings with Dana. I hadn’t told her before because I knew I needed first to make peace with it myself. While I knew my decision would also affect her, I also knew she would be supportive. I realized that letting go of this dream meant embracing a change. This isn’t a moment that requires much grieving, but it is a shift in plans, and sometimes embracing new plans means letting go of the original ones. I’m at peace with the change and don’t think I’ll need to schedule time with a therapist when we get back. :-)

After each of my adventures, I like to reflect and try to sort out what I’ve learned. One recurring realization is that I seldom learn anything entirely new. What I do experience is a reminder of the things that matter most to me and the core values I try to live by.

First, and this will surprise no one, I’m reminded of the kindness and inherent goodness in people. Even the men (usually men) who flipped me off because I inconvenienced them slightly have a goodness and kindness within them—it just might require a good conversation to uncover. I’m also reminded that every act of kindness I offered to others cost me nothing except the simple choice to offer it.

Second, I’ve learned (or been reminded) that there is value in persevering through difficult times, even when the "joy" isn’t obvious. I can honestly say I didn’t quit because it was too hard. It was hard, and I had (and have) plenty of aches and pains—lower back pain that improved with liberal application of menthol cream, and neck pain that eventually got better with time—but I worked through it. I hated the pain but also knew that pushing through it is probably one of the "perks" of being human. My mom was tough as nails, and she taught me to face pain and push through it. I didn’t want to look back and think I should have toughed it out and been stronger.

Third, I’ve learned that we’re often called to complete tasks or meet responsibilities when the "joy" isn’t there. We’ve all experienced those moments, and there are valuable lessons to be learned from them. At the same time, I’ve realized that there isn’t anything inherently noble about choosing to do something optional when the joy of doing it is gone.

Fourth, I’ve learned (or been reminded) that I have nothing to prove to anyone else. If someone "judges" me for quitting halfway through the trip, that’s their issue, not mine. I completed the journey that was mine to complete, and that’s what matters.

Fifth, I can be proud of what I accomplished. I biked nearly 1,500 miles. I crossed the widest part of Florida and the narrowest parts of Alabama and Mississippi, as well as the widest section of Louisiana. I made it almost halfway across the widest state in the U.S. Along the way, I met incredible people, saw beautiful sights in the remotest parts of the South, and tackled significant challenges. I stayed safe crossing busy streets and highways, smiled at hostile drivers, climbed hills that tested my endurance, solved problems, and generally had a great time. For all of this and more, I feel a deep sense of pride and accomplishment.

Sixth, I’ve learned that quitting isn’t always a bad thing. We’ve all heard the saying "Quitters never win," but I propose that sometimes quitting is its own kind of victory. Who gets to decide what winning and losing mean, anyway?

What’s next? We’re scheduled to be back in Houston in two weeks for an annual coffee expo. We’ll meet up with our son Jeremy and his family there and spend the weekend together at the show. In the meantime, we plan to visit Big Bend National Park and Carlsbad Caverns National Park. Along the way, we’ll continue exploring smaller towns and experiencing life off the main highways. After the coffee expo, we’ll start meandering our way home and will likely arrive during the first full week of May.

I’ll continue blogging, though there won’t be much cycling involved. Thanks for following along on this abbreviated journey.

It takes a unique depth of kindness to show compassion to someone whose thoughts, actions, or personality remain a mystery to you.
Myron Bontrager, a timeless vagabond, enigmatic and difficult to grasp.Read more