Keeping my head on straight

Today, Brooke and I plowed, slogged, and inched little-by-little our way across a long stretch of desolate Montana on what must have been the windiest day of the year. Just turing the pedals over was a feat. Because of the headwind, we were resigned to spinning in our easiest gear through the gusts, and just that simple unambitious plan took a Herculean effort.

I don’t know exactly what our expectations of Montana were before we arrived, but to say the least, we were expecting an easier go of things. I think because we are getting close to Eugene, Oregon where we will take some much needed time off to rest and hang out with our friends Jill and Ryan and their new son Henry, we somehow wanted to believe that it would be smooth sailing all the way to their front door. Needless to say, that hasn’t been the case, it’s been rough both mentally and physically. Rough in a good way though, rough in the way that makes accomplishments meaningful.

Completing the miles, getting to the coast, riding it all, means more than it has up until this point. Before, I really didn’t care that much about actually finishing. It was too overwhelming to think about, too far off in the distance to even acknowledge, but now, we’re so close! So, I know I can handle physical pain on my bike, I can handle working hard, being winded with my heart thumping hard in my chest. I can deal with the ebb and flow of muscle cramps escalating and receding. I can handle all of that, I even like it sometimes. But when the physical pounding starts to penetrate my inner strength, my morale, that’s when things go downhill.

Sitting here, drinking a much needed beer (Moose Drool by Big Sky Brewing Company) beneath a humungous buffalo head shot on Ted Turner’s ranch, I feel fine. I feel pretty great about things, actually. I’ve got myself under control mentally and I’m thankful for my health, thankful for the opportunity to do this-to have the chance to experience this boundless freedom. But, out there on the road today I was in a different frame of mind. Today’s ride was so hard physically and mentally, that it brought back memories of Kansas. Need I say more? Kansas was almost the end of our tour, though we’ve never really told anyone that before.

Thoughts of Kansas still have the ability to make me shutter and shake my head in disbelief. Disbelief that we didn’t quit or kill each other. Memories of Brooke and I riding through Kansas, still kinda new to bicycle touring flooded my head and heart today while I was moving at a snail's pace with no end in sight. We were so vulnerable back then, so inexperienced in the world of bike touring. We were both so afraid, and hilariously, and to no avail, we both tried to conceal from each other how frustrated and nervous we were, how much we were second guessing the bicycle tour. We were second guessing back then because we were worried we couldn’t do it. Now, we know we can do it, but sometimes I question why we are doing this. Why are we doing this? And, I worry about how will it be when we stop and settle down someplace. I feel out of the loop with my friends, I miss my family, I have no job, no home, and it’s no consolation that all I could hear today was the wind furiously ripping through the lonely landscape around me. I’m so far away from everything I love, and for what --to ride my bike through windy boring Montana eight hours a day. I know it’s just my reaction to constant change, and the uncertainly of the future. But, still bicycle touring gives you an awful lot of time to think, and if you're are not in the right frame of mind, you can really bring yourself down.

At the end of our ride, we ended up at Jackson Hot Springs. It was cold and grey outside, the wind was blowing, and a storm was forming off in the distance. We each drank a beer, and jumped in the perfectly steamy hot springs, and it was the best payoff to a tough, challenging day in the saddle.

Melissa