Three weeks later, I’m recovering from ankle tendonitis and feeling very removed from the adventurer who found exhilaration, wonder, and the generosity of strangers on the road. Who endured fatigue and self-doubt on dark lonely highways.
Yet, I can recover each day in sparkling detail. I can’t say that about last week, or even yesterday. Writing about mountaineering in Wanderlust, Rebecca Solnit declares that she is fascinated by the “tension between history and experience, between aspiration, memory, and the moment.” Similarly, when reflecting on my embodiment as a long distance bicyclist, I feel both apprehension and yearning. I find there are parts of myself brushed aside, receded into the spaces between the planning, pursuit, and memorializing of feats.
Back to life then, until the next adventure.