Amy Middleton Loves New York

 For a more current and compleat account of The Bike Trip, visit http://www.blood-sweat-and-gears.blogspot.com/

So. It’s not that I didn’t believe people when they said it would be hard. Not at all. And the closer we got to it, and the more practicing and preparing I did, the more convinced I became that this was going to be tough and probably not one of my more enjoyable adventures. But that didn’t keep me from wanting the experience of it. I didn’t want to back out because it sounded like it might be tough.

What I didn’t account for–and I’m not sure how much this would have affected my decision even if I had known–is that hills and mountains are mostly what comprise the trek. And my fear of speed and heights is not absolved by frequent descents on narrow-shoulder mountains, feeling the draft of trucks whizzing past me. I definitely knew that such situations would be part of the journey. I just didn’t know it would be such an enormous part of it.

After five days of riding and an anxiety attack on Sunday night, I realized I didn’t want to do this to myself anymore. There is no higher motive here, just the personal victory of having done it, and I don’t value that more than my mental (and quite possibly physical) health (because honestly- what can you do to “look out for logging trucks” aside from not being on a bike in the first place?).

So I told Chris and Jen that I was thinking about getting on a bus or something. Chris suggested getting a SAG vehicle and we stopped at a library to look into options. Suddenly a vague idea became an immediate decision. Renting a car one-way for that long proved cost-prohibitive, but the bus and train were still options, and Chris’s friend Amy was coming to meet us that night and could take me back to Seattle to catch some public transportation. Following a Dairy Queen Dinner, that’s what happened.

This part isn’t about the bike trip, but I will say what happened next for those who are curious. Amy insisted that the train station was too sketchy to stay in over night, but we struck out with nearby hotels, and the Best Western was $150 for the night, so I decided to just hang out at the Amtrak anyway. I set up a little area where I plugged my phone in, locked my bike to the seat, put my panniers in a duffle bag under my feet, and got in my sleeping bag, prepared to make it to the next morning in relative security. This continued to be my plan until 1:15, when a guy woke me up to tell me that the station closed at 10:30 but stayed open longer to wait for a train, but I couldn’t stay there. They would re-open at 6:15.

I called my sister Angie who got a number for a nearby hostel and made sure there was a vacancy. I got a cab, lugged my bike and all my gear up 2 flights of stairs to the hostel, and a few minutes later entered a dark room with 3 bunk beds and clothing thrown around everywhere. I found an empty bed, threw some clothes off a ladder, and climbed up.

The next morning I got to the station with plenty of time, and the baggage guys were really nice about boxing my bike up for me (and it only cost $5 for the entire operation). I got on a train headed for Monterey, and 29 hours later we pulled into the Salinas station, where I was met by my friend Emily, her husband and new baby. So here I am.

I kind of feel like I am running away from running away. I feel bad for the people who were really excited to see me finish this for my own sake and who helped me in the process. I know this must seem strange but I don’t regret it. I don’t regret having had this to look forward to and prepare for. I don’t wish that I had simply never planned for it just because it had the promise of an enormous challenge. But I also don’t regret re-assessing the situation once I had experienced that level of anxiety and, honestly, terror, for several days straight, and with many more to go.

westwardhoes (sorry, becca)
bloodsweatandgears
fromtheghettotothemeadow
saddlebaggage
saddlebagladies
harlemhandlebars
yourmomridesbikes
ghettopeddlers
asthewheelturns
igetbywithalittlehelpfrommylegs

Oh, I’m just sitting here on my living room floor, listening to an Indigo Girls song that is playing on my CELL PHONE. Do people really use their phones as mp3 players? I mean…besides the preteen stereotypes in cingular commercials who think that txting+tunes+pix=like, da bomb. Well, whether or not any one else has put down their ipod long enough to transfer songs to their phone, I’ve now crossed over.

Earlier this week I enabled mobile web 2.0, and have been practicing googling stupid things (read: NYSC) to get a feel for the functionality. It’s an awkward navigation process, but then, so is struggling with maps and calling people to ask them if they are near a computer and want to do you a favor.

It comes down to this: I have a little more than 72 hours left before I fly to Vancouver, where Jen, Chris and I will test our limits of endurance, perseverance, and probably patience. I’m certainly not contributing much to our collective riding skills, camping skills, bow-hunting skills, or wilderness-survival skills. I’ve been trying to think of what I can do to pull my weight, and all I’ve come up with (other than bringing the stove and finding some recipes) is documenting the trip and helping our group stay connected. And if that’s all I can do, then I better find a way to do it.

So in the name of being a team player, I’m studying my Verizon manual and doing whatever I can to increase its utility on our trip. I am getting excited about new-to-me 10 year old technology, hoping that this will all come together and my contribution will be of use to my fellow riders. I hope they like Indigo Girls.

In honor of New York City’s 5-Boro tour tomorrow, (well, more accurately in honor of the Sabbath,) some friends and I did a 4-Boro 2-Island tour today. My progress is slow, my riding is slow, i can’t take my left hand off the handle bars, and cars and pedestrians make me kind of wish I were inside. Still, when we stopped in Prospect Park to eat, after spending a gorgeous morning riding through a few boroughs and around Randall and Roosevelt Island, Ruth said that the ride was my best idea this year. I don’t know that I can argue with that.

In his all-knowing Islander way, Johnny Lingo explains to Mr. Harris his decision to pay eight cows for Mahana: “I wanted her to be an eight-cow woman.” The high ticket price proved that she was worth more than any other woman on the island, but while some insist the moral of the story is that women of worth require engagement rings of equal value, I suggest it’s that how we are perceived by others affects how we perceive ourselves, which then affects how we ultimately are. This outside-in approach allows for “doing” now and “being” later.

My plan to ride my bike across the country is somewhat like the decision to buy a Boxed Set (I don’t own anything by The Doobie Brothers…I know, I’ll own everything by The Doobie Brothers); it doesn’t make a lot of sense. Perhaps if the desire were fueled by a love of touring, camping, and serious riding, a goal of doing that coast-to-coast would seem almost reasonable (though, arguably, “not really”). However, I am not a biker, nor an athlete in any way. In choosing teams, I am always picked last (note: not past tense). Even in adulthood, any participation in group sports is always mandatory and accompanied by that same feeling of being the smallest 3rd grader in my class, futilely trying to not be the first one smacked out in dodge ball.

People don’t get that, though. They hear “bike across America,” and they think “hard core.” It doesn’t seem to matter that none of us making this journey even owned a bike prior to the decision to go from Seattle to New York. The doing of it qualifies us for the image. Even now, as I ride around the city, barely knowing how to shift gears and breaking at the first sign of a hill, I am stopped by people asking me about bikes, shops, and riding advice. Apparently my neon “I’m a beginner” sign doesn’t shine as bright as I thought it did. And feeling like a fraud- because owning a Trek does not an athlete make- is something I must struggle with alone, since no one else seems willing to acknowledge that I’m just a poser.

I’m realizing, too, that this phenomenon is not limited to the world of cycling. No one ever believes me when I explain that I actually know nothing about computer hardware. Nor is it understood why I say I can’t translate complex industry-specific documents when I “know Spanish.” Gross incompetence, it seems, is often mistaken for modesty by those who don’t know better.

I’m further learning that when others insist they feel inadequate or don’t know what they are doing, perhaps they are being honest and not trying to humbly cloak their talents. But, more importantly, maybe that doesn’t even matter. Once we get past the embarrassment of wearing an 8-cow price tag when we know our true retail value is closer to only a few hooves, maybe we can learn to use the sticker price as leverage towards acquiring these attributes we supposedly already possess. If people decide I am something I’m not, I can prove them wrong or prove them right.  In the case of being perceived as having some sort of athletic prowess or ability, I see no reason not to own this.

Life is so funny and it’s going mission-fast right now. Everything I do leads to more I could be doing. Emails needing responses are slipping to page 2 of my inbox the day after they were received. I’ve never been one to complain about email, but I just can’t keep up.

 Wednesday I unsubscribed from every newsletter that came in, which was a tough decision because I like to spend a few minutes learning every day. Investing basics, words of the day, fly lady, web design, email alerts in all forms–I kissed these daily reminders goodbye. When nonessentials pile up, they take more time than I can reasonably give to them and they become clutter. And I need to let clutter go.

I still don’t think I’m accomplishing enough to justify the amount of time I require to work on “my stuff.” I probably extend the information gathering stage far longer than is needed. I am encouraged, though, by an observation I recently read in a documentary book by  Barry Hampe on the learning process: Good problem solvers spent a lot of time just playing with whatever it was they were doing. I like that, and it rings true to my experience- which is probably why I like it.

I need to devote more time than makes sense to the essentials for the next six months, and I have more “essentials” than I probably should right now. They are all working together and I don’t know how to let any of them go. As for anything that is not related to my church calling, documentary, bike trip, or pursuit thereof (which admittedly covers an awful lot of territory)…I’m unsubscribing.

My youngest brother is on the phone with me, explaining the trade off in the size of the rear sprocket and the corresponding speed or power. I have no idea what he’s talking about. I’m taking notes, I’m looking at diagrams, but all pictures of chains look the same to me, and no matter how intuitive this is supposed to be, I’m not that mechanically-oriented. If it were an algebra problem or an excel formula I’d be all over it, but I haven’t yet wrapped my mind around the abacus of the bicycle. I will be slow and intimidated until I do.

I suppose this is the “honeymoon phase” of bike ownership. I committed on Saturday, for better or for worse, to last year’s model of the Trek 1500. My friend Marcus got me a good deal on it–a huge relief, since at that point my biggest fear was the financial consequence of buying a new light-weight road bike. I’m happy with the purchase but I’m wondering now if I EVER knew how to shift properly. It seems like I had to; I used to ride a bike in college and to work. Yet my awkward interactions with the Shimano Total Integration system yesterday would suggest otherwise. I hope we can overcome this petty misunderstanding and start working as a team in short order.

for the record:
I decided to get a bike after Jen Nuckols suggested a cross-country road trip and it sounded way more appealing than a 2-month-kiss-your-job-goodbye scheme should sound.

Everyone has his opinion; gather enough (from totally different groups) and you start to collect a valid and useful sample.

It’s very important to people to know you’ve thought of everything, even when thinking of everything has absolutely no impact on your decision.

“Skirt month” is an unfortunate month to coincide with “research and buy a bike month.”

My friend Jessica suggested naming the bike “The Yang” and after dozens of worse ideas, I really liked it. So far, we are the only ones who think it’s a good name.