The ACA had requested us to write a reflection on our trip a few weeks after we had returned. I had been in the throes of grad school orientation at the time and so just finished writing a small recap for them. I thought you might enjoy it too. Sorry to disappoint those who had seen this post and thought we were heading out on the road again. Hopefully one day (and before retirement) we will.
It has been more than three months since we got back to our home town. Since then there have been more than a few times that I've thought about being back on a bike full time. However, Josh reminded me recently, as pictures of our trip scrolled through on his desktop screen, that a lot of days weren't the perfect biking conditions. I do remember the weather wasn't super nice for us. The first half was mostly cold and second half was pretty hot, with not much in between.
So what does biking mean to me now; especially with fall here and the air getting to the place I wish it was during our trip? I want to get back out there. I want my muscular legs back. I remember walking around, even on the trip, and feeling that my legs had so much power behind them. As if in one step I could bound like Super Man; that potential energy just waiting to tackle a hill. I want to get back out there. In some ways it was simpler and other ways harder because it was simpler. We lived each day with just a little of tomorrow in mind. Now I'm planning out to April and its only October.
The dependency and hospitality we had from those who were willing to give, was nothing I had experienced before. I grew up in the middle class and maintained self-sufficiency even through the poor years of college. To be in need for basics like shelter, or on a few occasion water, was strange. Bicycle touring can sound independent, but it’s not. It’s one of the most dependent things I've ever done. When we were offered things like a bed or food my whole heart and body was grateful. I didn't turn anything down because I knew my needs like never before.
Take me back out to my bike, back out to the fields, to the city, to the best people in the whole wide world. Make me dependent again. Because my dependency introduced me to Bill, Linda, Dan, Cindy, Lisa, Tad, Phil …
It has been more than three months since we got back to our home town. Since then there have been more than a few times that I've thought about being back on a bike full time. However, Josh reminded me recently, as pictures of our trip scrolled through on his desktop screen, that a lot of days weren't the perfect biking conditions. I do remember the weather wasn't super nice for us. The first half was mostly cold and second half was pretty hot, with not much in between.
So what does biking mean to me now; especially with fall here and the air getting to the place I wish it was during our trip? I want to get back out there. I want my muscular legs back. I remember walking around, even on the trip, and feeling that my legs had so much power behind them. As if in one step I could bound like Super Man; that potential energy just waiting to tackle a hill. I want to get back out there. In some ways it was simpler and other ways harder because it was simpler. We lived each day with just a little of tomorrow in mind. Now I'm planning out to April and its only October.
The dependency and hospitality we had from those who were willing to give, was nothing I had experienced before. I grew up in the middle class and maintained self-sufficiency even through the poor years of college. To be in need for basics like shelter, or on a few occasion water, was strange. Bicycle touring can sound independent, but it’s not. It’s one of the most dependent things I've ever done. When we were offered things like a bed or food my whole heart and body was grateful. I didn't turn anything down because I knew my needs like never before.
Take me back out to my bike, back out to the fields, to the city, to the best people in the whole wide world. Make me dependent again. Because my dependency introduced me to Bill, Linda, Dan, Cindy, Lisa, Tad, Phil …