Life Cycle
Squad Member Story
I was 23 years old when my best friend, Ale, and I decided to load up some cross bikes with racks and panniers, buy a few maps and cycle from Los Gatos, CA to New York City, New York. This piece is a reflection on a poignant life lesson taken from the cross country bike trip. At this point in the adventure, Ale and I are about a month into the trip and cycling over the Rocky Mountains in Colorado.
Survival Through Imagination
I am up to my neck in a swamp of thick, heavy, dark psychological quicksand. As I pedal my house-on-wheels up an impossibly steep incline, my mind falls into a dangerously negative spiral. My breath quickens, and I start to do the pre-cry short bursts of gulping air, as I begin listing off things that are painful and debilitating. My legs ache; my head feels like it’s going to explode through my helmet; my back is spasming and cramping around L4 and L5; my stomach is empty and sending all kinds of passive aggressive messages to my brain; my feet and hands are numb and not responding to my basic movement commands; I’m pretty sure my saddle sores are getting blood on my last pair of “clean” biking shorts; I have a sweat / sunscreen concoction going on that is causing temporary blindness; and a wasp just flew down my jersey and stung me three times before I managed to punch myself in the right place and commit a self-defense insect homicide.
Throughout this physical and emotional turmoil, I use every last bit of strength I have to jerk my legs around in the cycling motion to propel myself and my fully loaded bike up a mountain somewhere in the Rockies at 4 mph. The road’s dirty, strong, black fingers reach out and grab my rundown tires, as I attempt to ride in this Sisyphus-like situation. I’m pedaling into a nausea-inducing olfaction composed of: cow manure, dust, rotting flesh, sweat, dried blood, and fresh tar. Through my blurred vision, I catch sight of the half deer carcass spread elegantly over the entire shoulder of the road. I can make out a few hoofs, a thick, meaty, insect-infested thigh and some smaller bones that have already been picked clean. I choose to swerve left into the stickier, newer, darker, more dangerous part of the road to avoid the Cervidae anatomical display. A few minutes later I pass the torn open neck filled with maggots attached to the battered head. I don’t swerve; I am hypnotized by the bloodshot wide-open marble eyes staring deep into my conscience asking me, “what exactly was the motivation behind doing this thing, dude? Let’s re-evaluate — is it still worth it to continue pedaling?”
Consciousness: “The motivation was to find a deeper sense of self, figure out how to survive on two wheels for 100 days in the middle of nowhere America, connect with humans all over the country, expand my appreciation for the simple things in life, and to grow my calves to the size of my head… It is indeed worth it to keep pedaling.”
In my slightly delusional, malleable state of mind, I was able to launch myself out of the dark psychological quicksand with a bit of humorous perspective and this re-inspired picture of what I was doing in life and on my bike. I picked up the cadence and focused on how strong my legs felt and admired the beading sweat on my tanned forearms. “The human body is awesome,” I told myself. “Also, I’m currently kicking a bit of ass in terms of life things right now,” I continued. I then started listing off all of the people I loved. I imagined these loved ones biking alongside me cheering me on with music and bike dancing. The group of supporters grew exponentially until it was composed of men, women, and children of all ages and nationalities biking and running alongside me in a giant celebration of life.
I had a moment of material awareness when another insect crashed into my face, but this time I apologized for the surprise attack and casually removed my recently deceased, six-legged friend from my cheek, laughed at my giant imagination, and then jumped right back into the refreshing pool of my daydream state of glory.
“You do you sister” I said out loud to myself, before I started “singing” (not sure if the noises coming from my mouth have been defined, so we will go with singing) the Rocky Balboa theme song. I smashed that mountain harder than any other climb during my cross-country bike tour. When I got to the top, I pulled off to the look out area and reflected on the super power I had just actualized. I have always believed in using the mind over matter strategy in life, but I had never had such a drastic result from shifting my perspective by tapping into my imagination and directing my mind to the places I wanted it to go.
I looked down the mountain and spotted Ale swerving all over the shoulder to avoid the roadkill. I decided to test the ability to not only control my own state of being, but also extend that energy to another. “YOU DO YOU ALE!!!” I screamed down to her. “YOUR CALVES LOOK FANTASTIC!!!”
Ale’s legs started spinning a bit faster and pretty soon I was able to see her smiling, dirt / chocolate / cheese / sweat covered face light up as she approached the look out. With about 20 feet to go, Ale screamed, “YESSSSS!!!!!” and we both collapsed into a laughing / crying state of pure vulnerable humanistic joy. It was glorious.
As we descended the 15 mile mountain road, I alternated between living it up in my fabulous daydream, brainstorming psychological strategies for controlling experience, and singing as loud as possible with Ale. By the time we rolled into the KOA (Four Seasons of campgrounds), I had come up with a simple description of how I wanted to approach life. I whipped out my journal and scribbled these words before my hypoglycemic state took over all brain functionality — “It is important to ask yourself why you are doing something, especially when things are difficult and you find yourself punching your person to kill an insect. Your answer will mostly likely bring you back to your values and whole-hearted, true self, or it will make it pretty clear you should get the hell out of Dodge. *Also, if you can add humor into the mix, bonus points.”
