1) Recovery ..... 2) Is This Ride My Legacy?

People ask me: “Have you recovered yet?”

“From what?” I think. I had no enduring physical problems during the ride save some hand pain from the constant leaning on the handlebars. This, despite wearing biker’s gloves with gel pads in key spots. Actually, I developed calluses on my palms which have only just faded.

Another reminder: my arms and legs got so very sunburned that there still is a sharp divide between the tanned skin and the whiteness of the covered areas. It has been 8.5 weeks since the ride – I have not been in the sun at all in that time – and I am still heavily contrasted.

Most people view the ride as so far beyond their capabilities (now and at most any time in their lives) as to be an impossible undertaking. My perspective is different because I have been blessed, genetically, with physical stamina and fitness that rewards the measly efforts I exert in training and nutrition. I have become so used to my good physical fortune that I never really doubted that I would finish. The major challenge for me was the mental one. While there are probably a few athletes who could handle the ride physically (in the high school where I substitute teach just about every day), I doubt there are any who could have kept up with me the whole way. Severe headwinds, steep hills and lots of walking up them, rain and thunderstorms, flat tires and bike problems were intensely dispiriting.

I have also been asked: “Do I consider the successful ride as my legacy?”

I haven’t thought of the ride in terms of a legacy. I haven't ever thought about any legacy ... that would admit to finality, and although it is closer and closer, it's still "out there" for me. I don’t see the ride as so dominating in how I may be regarded by my progeny. I see it as just a piece in the whole fabric of my life, which I regard as generally adventurous and more edgy than many.

• I took jet pilot training in the Air Force and have a bunch of hours at the controls under my belt.
• I have sky-dived (and would continue, if I could afford it).
• I lived and worked in two foreign countries, staying in one throughout an armed revolution, after most foreigners evacuated.
• I spent about 500 hours, snorkeling mostly, in the Red Sea, amidst poisonous mollusks, poisonous fish and snakes, poisonous plants, jellyfish, sharks … whatever. I have never experienced anything so beautiful or fascinating, with some rare exceptions. There were nights on snow-covered dirt roads in the Rockies when the stars were staggeringly numerous; sunrises and sunsets in the desert countries are surreal, because of the dust in the air that refracts the light in ethereal ways; in Kenya last year, I saw both a baby rhino and a 5-day-old baby elephant nursing. It sounds banal in the telling of it, whereas the feelings it engendered, in real time, are literally indescribable.
• I am an intrepid skier, self-taught (part of the problems with my technique). It means I will go anywhere on the mountain, but I don’t cliff-jump. I don’t do all of the mountain that well, but I manage to get down, even if side-stepping through a chute is all I can manage. If I could afford it, I would ski 100+ days a year! I have skied in 5 countries at maybe 25 resorts, and some at over 11,000 feet.
• I married a foreign woman from a totally different culture. But we share basic values and beliefs. We are still married, and still passionate about each other, after 41 years, despite the usual squabbles couples have.
• I worked in Information Technology for 40 years, as a coder, analyst, instructor, designer, project and contract manager. I rarely repeated an assignment. For half that time I worked as contractor-consultant. I was always learning new computer languages, new applications, and new businesses (and new countries!). There were many times when I thought I may have bitten off more than I could chew, but mostly, I succeeded. It required being creative and flexible, and a quick learner, especially when working overseas, where the rules can be unknowable.
• I learned to read, write and speak the Farsi language (it was extremely challenging for me). It is also fading away from disuse.
• I became the President of The Ethical Culture Society of Bergen County, a humanist organization. It is a volunteer position. It has been very challenging, to put it mildly. One aspect: I preside at public and Board meetings. It is a role I have been especially uncomfortable with, but it has forced me to stretch and grow.

Another question I was asked: “What did you say when people told you that you were crazy?” Actually, no one called me crazy … maybe "suicidal."
The ones who came close to “crazy” were all women, who tried to influence my wife ("Don't let him go" or "Talk him out of it"), as if she had the ultimate authority. Some said they'd never let their husbands go.

Although she did try to discourage me, at first, she eventually realized that my mind was made up. She saw that I was training seriously, and had put so much effort into it, so she encouraged me. Example: When I worried about not making it on time to get to the wedding in August, she suggested: A) I skip the wedding, or B) I park the bike somewhere, go to the wedding, then go back and resume the trip. It was extremely important, maybe even more to her than me, that I finish the trip.

Several men told me, afterwards, that they never thought I'd make it, but didn't say it to me beforehand. That surprised me, but it made sense when I thought about it. I would not have told another guy he'd never make it.

To keep things in perspective, it was not a death-defying venture, like climbing Mt. Everest or bungee-jumping, or rowing across the Atlantic, or scuba diving with sharks. It was just exciting, and a challenge; besides, I like to push things a little.

I suspect that most people don’t know that I am continuing to add to this blog, but I am now writing essays with a longer perspective on the trip. It may surprise you readers to know that I am more prideful of my writing, or maybe I should say that I appreciate praise of it more than congratulations on the bike ride. As it is, I get no feedback on these later posts, much as I would love to get such comments. Anyone?

Loneliness

One question I am often asked: “Weren’t you lonely?”

Quick answer: “No.”

But upon reflection, I guess I was. Let me explain. I was not aware of feeling lonely. Between intense concentration on the road surface and my position relative to traffic, there was little time to think of almost anything but those physical things.

There were other high priority subjects: Am I thirsty? How much time before darkness? How much time before I’d better nail down a place to stay, or rather, a destination known to have places to stay? Also: Was that a rhythmic sound I heard? (Geez, another flat?) Where the hell do I find a tree to pee behind? (Sounds simple, but there are no trees in the desert, though there are scorpions and poisonous snakes. So, there was no venturing off-road, ergo, how do I position myself so as to be hidden … mostly … from sight, cause I’m gonna do it right here on the shoulder? And by the way, how do I do it so as not to pee on my own legs/shoes? I was not always successful; not only did that damned wind undermine my progress, it made me embarrass myself too.

But I digress. While I was not aware of feelings of loneliness, I realize that I seized every opportunity to stop and chat with ANYONE. I figured 5 minutes here and there, in the scheme of things, wouldn’t cost me much. Except that I now realize that I coveted those interchanges. So, I was lonely, or at least hungry for interaction with other people. Same thing, no?

I also got to feed my ego, because virtually everyone asked my age. After the first time, when I gave a straight answer, I made everyone guess. I suppose a few may have suspected a higher number (the face gave one clue and the body gave a contradictory one), but they did a good job of looking surprised when I told them. Not a one came within 5 years, and many were off by 10 or more years.

The best part of ego food: it adds no weight to the bike.