Magic is Real

This time last year, I was preparing for the biggest adventure I have ever agreed to.

On Thanksgiving morning, I woke up in the old, creaky wooden bed in my grandfather’s house in Nashville.  Mind you, it had become a routine occurrence to wake restlessly, feeling unfulfilled, for the last couple months.

It's not that I was unhappy with the life I had created in Austin. It was the music capital of the world. I worked alongside a great bunch of excellent massage therapists that made me feel very welcome.

Creating a new chapter from scratch was all very magical; I sold my car to invest in a scooter, a bicycle, one month’s rent, and the chance at a job interview in the heart of Texas.  After running around Dallas for a couple weeks getting ready for the move, I was finally unloading the U-Haul, with the help of my two free-flowing traveler (hippie) friends.  I remember, my first night after unloading, we drove the U-Haul downtown and parked it off of Lamar and 7th Street beside an abandoned building covered with faces and quotes from Jimi, Jim, and Martin Luther King Jr.  The three of us just started walking, with Heidi (Matt's beautiful mountain dog).  We decided to grab a couple beers and explore the town. We strolled up 6th, listening to music and meeting people. The drunken college folk, the crazy homeless people, the normal homeless people, the older parents who acted just as childish as the college folk - it was a playground. The three of us seemed to connect the most with the homeless folk. We grabbed more beers and smoked a joint with a talkative black man that liked Heidi and seemed to know the area rather well.  He was friendly, yet questionable.  We went down to a creek area closer to Highway 35, and Heidi played in the water while we entertained ourselves with some sort of makeshift drinking game.  Finally, we made our way back to my new apartment.  Everything was so new and exciting.  There was so much to explore.

After about eight months, the magic seemed to be almost gone. The days seemed to get more and more predictable.  I helped relieve the pain of others, met new people, and worked in a laid back, cool environment. I had found the spots I liked downtown to go dancing and have drinks by now.  I met lots of people.  I had friends visit me and showed them around.  It was going so well, really. But inside I was dying, or that’s what it felt like. I couldn't really believe that this chapter would last much longer; I needed to get out.  I needed a "real" adventure.

My good friend, and teacher of sorts, at work sensed my agony of redundancy.  In early October, she was surfing the web and stumbled across an adventure opportunity I might get a kick out of. I didn't look at it for weeks. Why would I? Why wouldn’t I? I don't really know. Laziness? Fear? Disappointment?

For some reason, when I woke with the pain of conformity that quiet night in Nashville, the link my friend sent came to the forefront of my racing thoughts.  Everything else seemed to fade out ever so slightly as I curiously searched for that link. After reading the short description of this adventure, of this non-profit bicycle trip around the country, I was filled with hope and certainty.  If I remember correctly, tears of joy came from nowhere.  I had asked the greater good, everyday it seemed, "What do I do about this need for freedom?" Finally, here was my answer! What were the odds? Was this too good to be true?  Was I too late?  Overflowing with gratefulness, I started to double-check the ad for error. Eventually delving deeper and finding my way to the non-profit’s webpage (www.theyp.org), I emailed the leader of the expedition (who had posted the ad) immediately.  Here was my answer.  I had finally found the scissors with which I could cut the ties to my ordinary life - the same ties that had slowly began to sever weeks ago.  Little did I know, 1 year, 7,000 miles, and 8 strangers later, I was informed that I had opened the doors of the wardrobe.

Tulia to Amarillo

I knew the day was going to be nothing short of great when I road off with the sound of the high school band playing "Shake That".

It was another windy day of quiet riding.  Around 1:00 PM I reached a cross roads.  I had time to make it to Palo Duro and walk around for a bit before I went ahead to Amarillo.  I was tired, but you can't say no to such a chance.  So I started riding toward the Canyon.

It was a flat ride, but again my drive was running low.  When I got to the Welcome center in the park it was about 2:30...I was tired, and pretty lonely, again.  Thinking this is one of those moments you wish you had a buddy.  A partner in crime.  Or something like that.

After I sat, looking into the depth of empty beauty for some time, I got a text message from an unknown number.  Wondering if I wanted a ride to Colorado.  (I had posted an add on rideshare via Craigslist, to see what would pop up).  I was just about ready to take it.  I told the guy I was interested, but it would probably take me about 3 hours to get back out to the highway. ( I wasn't quite done marveling and there would be quite a hefty head wind coming my way)... in the end, the ride didn't pan out... and I am better for it.

I entered the welcome center to relieve myself before heading out... little did I know I would meet my next inspiration...
Miss Doss, the Welcomer of the Welcome Center greeted me with cheer.  She was so excited to see me...she said "Oh! you are the girl who I saw riding her bike on the side of the road on my way to work today!" .. I couldn't help but smile and laugh.
She continued to tell me she and her husband, now passed, used to ride through the canyon, 19 miles, one way, every Saturday.  The way she said it, with such pride...
She offered me snacks, coffee, and water.  Then for my autograph...again I laughed.
She gave me the strength and encouragement to get to Amarillo, despite that damn wind.

I texted the Mabry daughters, Lindy and Lexie, I was on my way...
I hit some unexpected hills and crevices from the canyon, once I turned on Washington St.  Luckily, I had the wind at my back at this point.
Under the highway I road, with no sidewalks to be found.
Then to hang a left onto some smelly industrial tracks...
Making my way towards some unexpected, trafficless, gravel road.
The sun was down at this point and again I was at another busy road with no sidewalk relief...I wasn't feeling quite as trusting at this point.  Only 3 mile stretch of three lanes of traffic barreling toward downtown.
I decided it was best to give Lindy a call for some help.
She retrieved me and my bike from the gas station.

Lubbock to Tulia

I started pedaling toward Amarillo early on Thursday morning.  I didn't have much of anything... no plan.  no drive.  no clue... All I had was the faith that everything was going to be alright.  It was pretty chilly.  The clouds had cold front written all over them.  I didn't think I would make it more than 30 miles, purely for the lack of interest.  Luckily, Jammye, from the Pitchfork Ranch, in Guthrie, saved the day, yet again...  She put me in touch with a relative in Tulia, about 73 miles away.  The clouds began to part and my spirit brightened.  It was a long, yet enjoyable, successful day of riding.

I stopped at a gas station on the North side of Plainview.  I grabbed some lunch and stepped back outside for a rest.  A friendly truck driver honked at me in the middle of my lunch and gave me two thumbs up.  Before I got back on the road I went to say hello.  Edgar, the truck driver, was from, what was once known as, Yugoslavia.  He came over to the states as a refuge years ago.  Now, looking back on that conversation, I wish I would have known more about the war to ask him how he feels about his home separating as it did.  How it feels to never be able to return to a home he grew and experienced life in.  The loss of something that will never be the same... Lots of us are able to return to that familiar place.  And for most it is a comfortable, enjoyable time...regardless of how dysfunctional it seems on the outside looking in.  He seems happy with his home in Florida and his job traveling...people adapt and move forward.  That is all we can do to survive.

Edgar was curious about what I was doing, where I was going, and why, for heavens sake, on a bicycle... Many of the same questions I get a couple times a day.  I gladly explained, I get to meet fine folks as himself, and learn more about the world around me, cheaper than any other way.  He was very nice and worried for my safety.  He offered me a ride over to Nashville, where my other sister, Amanda, lives... it was very tempting, but after a few moments of thought, I felt I should continue on to my original destination.  I thanked him, and happily made my way to Tulia.

I reached the Mabry household around 5, just as the sun was setting.  They were so welcoming, as the Timmons were.  That evening we went to one of their younger sons band practice in town.  It was a small community, and a small school.  It was cozy.  It took me back to hear the band play... to see all the kids squirming and laughing in their chairs.  It was short, but sweet.

We returned to the house to eat the delicious spaghetti from Chef Mama Mabry.  Afterwards Delynn (Mama M) told me a little about her upbringing and her current love for the work she does in testing and placing children with disabilities.  I find it fascinating and encouraging to see the strength in people that grew up with little and created so much, and then dedicate it all to God...

I had about 50-60 miles ahead of me the next morning.  Little did I know I wasn't saying goodbye to the Mabrys for good.  I was on my way to Amarillo to meet the older Mabry daughters, Lindy and Leslie.

One Month and 3 Days Later..

A couple of days ago, I found myself asking again, am I being useful..?  Questioning my purpose every hour of the day... always returning to a deep sense of waste.  This past weekend I followed my friend, Travis, meeting his family.  The Schattle family was very kind and welcoming.  Travis and I drank most of Friday and Saturday.  He had told most of his family about my travels, on a bike.  His father, who was a cyclist himself, was quite impressed, and mentioned he would love to do something like I had.  These positive comments of admiration helped my self-esteem... but now that I was "quitting" this second adventure I had started, so easily...without putting up a fight...I felt like I was doing an injustice, to myself, and the others who support and follow me.

Monday night, I found myself looking for something to watch...  Something to shut off the thoughts that had been running all weekend.  I found a movie I had seen before, but hadn't really paid much attention to the first time around.  180 Degrees South.  After watching this film, and thinking about the conversations I have had with people in the past week(s),  I knew I needed to get back on the road..soon.  Not because I miss it.  Not because I am uncomfortable with my current situation... but because I can't quit.  I haven't given the struggle a chance, really.  The adventure lives in the continued journey.  Up to this point, making it to Lubbock...I have had a safety net of sorts.  With this next state the adventure is about to enter...that safety net will be in a position to expand.

I know I will probably have to get a ride at some point, as I have in the past, I don't see that as quitting though.  In my mind, that is part of what this is all about.. meeting other people.  Allowing our lives to merge... to allow growth and understanding.

At some point in the past month, I had lost the energy of living day to day, alone.  I wanted to just be comfortable.  fed.  warm.  in good company.  in a car.  with friends.  having a good time.  I am still really enjoying the company, and the couch... but, when I go back to the question of purpose...  adventure is the answer... some day, I would love to guide adventures in the great outdoors... in between my time enjoying laughs with friends and family in the comforts of a large, warm home.  I can't quit on myself now...not while I can still keep on.  The adventure is about the day to day... the unknown and how you deal with it.   When you start to let anticipation eat you away, the adventure becomes a chore.

"It is not about getting there, it is about how you got there"

I strongly encourage you watch 180 Degrees South (Netfilx)
here is the trailer...
http://www.180south.com/trailer.html

So here is to the day to day.  Striving on.  Purpose and growth.

The first stop.

I have made it.  My first stop.  I've hit my limit on solo-miles, for now.  The desire to keep my butt on the bicycle is gone.  The winter days are short, leaving me cold and disappointed in the progress.  I decided after 50 miles of county roads to Plainview yesterday, that I was ready for my first extended break to begin.  For the next two weeks I'll be staying at my buddies house here in Lubbock.  Helping out as I can.  Pick up some volunteer projects.  Enjoying game days with friends.  Hanging out with the new friends I made back in Guthrie.  Around thanksgiving I am hoping to hitch a ride with Kelsey and Clint to Denver.

Earlier this week I felt bad about quitting...  especially after a few conflicting, yet encouraging, conversations with some friends.  I was worried about letting people down... but as more time passes between myself and the first bicycle ride,  I start to create my own path again... holding on to the confidence and trust I gained.  Leaving behind the expectation of pedaling every mile.  Encouraging the dance with the unknown flow.

Maybe there was enough fear instilled in me to stop..  but once I stopped, and I got over myself.. I started to think of the other things I want to do in life... rock climbing, bass jumping, surf, climb a mountain, explore the world.  To think of all the stories I still get to hear.  It reminds me that this is just a chance for an extended stay to visit and connect with friends.  

My rough outline is to make it to Colorado, find a part or full time job at a ski resort.  Learn that culture, learn how to snowboard.  Meet new people.  Have a good time.  Figure out where I want to go when the weather warms up.  Maybe international.  We shall see.

Keep it Together

I had written some of this stuff a few weeks ago...kind of venting.  grieving.
So I hope you find something out of if.  It's mostly just gibberish.


The sad thing is I don't even really know if I feel as if I lost love.  I did, but long before I realized it...  At some point there was no love left to lose.  At some point it was just about going through the motions.  Maybe.  Maybe, we skipped the chance on creating a wonderful friendship.  I feel like I kind of destroyed it before it even started.

Maybe it was half a year, sitting with some of the uglier sides of myself.  Looking at them.  Accepting them, sometimes. Trying to take my faults down a different road than I had taken them before... I tried to beautify them.  Hide them.  Handle them.  As most of us do.

Everyday is a little different now.  Most days, I still wonder if he has a, new found, dead spot inside.  Maybe the same place I have one.  It doesn't matter.  Not one bit.  It is definitely not progressive in the least.

You can live quite excellently when you allow the unknown to flow through your life with ease.

...

I have been talking to a close friend from the first ride for the past two evenings now... after we talk I feel like things are going to be okay again.  I am grateful to have another person there that understands. Feels the loss and can talk about it.  I don't know what I would do without her...or any of the other riders for that matter.


Being on this ride, by myself.  Being in the present moment, alone, has helped me not think about what I had before.  It helps me not miss what was, but appreciate what is and get excited for what is to come.
There is, however, still something inside of me that feels like I can't filter what has happened.  I can't see the bigger picture yet.  The significants of the last trip is still foggy sometimes.  I don't feel like I will ever go back to who I was.  I sort of lost myself for 5 months...and I am just now realizing, it is going to take time to find myself again.  I am still swirling in the whirl pool of past events...I can feel the current slowing down though...The confusion that came from the dive is coming to a calmer place, closer to shore.

I am ready for Colorado.  New beginnings.  New adventures.  New people.  New question marks.

Thanks

Lubbock... home of some top-dog tailgating professionals.  After an eventful weekend, I have managed to find stillness on my buddies old country porch.  Beauty, in the simplest kind of way.  The past few days have consisted of grilling some grade A barbecue and cracking beer after beer with some new characters.

Lubbock is a beautiful place to rest...between the chugaroo cook outs and Broadway Shuffle.
It has been two weeks now since I got to my buddies house in Lubbock...  Part of me was indifferent about not keeping to my (original) schedule, most of last week.
Now, sitting here... a handful of car rides in the country... two tours around two respectable ranches, with two legendary cowboys... one, 6 man, junior high football game... A beautiful wedding...a town of tailgating... Laughter. Strangers. Friends. Growth. Confusion. Dancing...  I am glad my better half convinced me to chill out and spend some time exploring North West Texas.  The part of me that knows, I'll have all the time I need to get where ever I am going.  This part that encourages the chances that are given to experience different walks of life... the spur of the moment inclination (pun intended)... to stop, and maybe even back track... to soak it in....soak it all in.  Be there.  Make a choice, and move in that choice.  Fearlessly.  Being open to help from others.


Thank you for all the help.
To my friends here in Lubbock and Guthrie.
Safe travels.