The Point of the Ride
The map tells us where to go. Everything in between is the point.
The days and weeks after Biking Across Kansas leave me with a few side effects.
I spend big chunks of my day in my head, processing some of the experiences, interactions, successes, failures, and thoughts that surfaced along the road.
I also spend time contemplating ways I could make spending all day on a bike a bigger part of my everyday life. A week of absolute clarity in one’s goal, one’s purpose - getting to the next stop and the freedom to determine how - stands in stark contrast to the often muddy reality of ordinary life. Also, doing something that feels so big then stepping back into the world of corporate normalcy can feel somewhat depressingly empty.
It reminds me to always question and evalutate how I’m spending my one wild and precious life, and this poem -
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean—
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
—Mary Oliver
If joy is an act of resistance, then we must steal it where we can.
Generations of joyless men have built structures to contain us, and to keep us chasing a manufactured joy that costs us daily payments from our souls. Give more of ourselves, over a whole lifetime, and one day we’ll, maybe, reach that destination we’ve all been told is the goal.
And the destination, if you haven’t noticed, keeps moving further away.
Yet, given enough space from the busyness of life, we feel the tension in our chest. The very old knowledge that someone else’s goal is not the point.
Biking Across Kansas helps me remember.
There is a start and an end, daily and for the entire week.
But the ride is the the thing.
And the ride is a different sunrise everyday.
The changes in the weather, the clouds, the heat, and the wind.
It’s the welcoming warmth of a Kansas town, and the people who put so much of themselves into making our time there feel special.
It’s the curiosity of strangers.
It’s kids with impromptu lemonade stands, whose eyes fill with wonder about how far they could ride their bikes, too.
It’s sharing a few beers with friends.
It’s making new friends with new people who live along the route.
It’s waking up every hour worried that you’ll be late, and oversleeping because you finally got comfortable and tired enough to let yourself.
The ride starts and ends at points on a map, and there’s clarity and purpose to move along that path.
But the ride?
That’s everything that isn’t on the map.
During our stop in Burden, Kansas last week, Christopher came down to record a bonus episode. At only 67 miles long, the day’s route was one of our “shorter” days - so it seemed a good time to record. I brought in a few friends to share their experiences, too, so we had a pretty fun conversation.
Since it was shot on location, immediately after a day’s ride, I think you’ll get a unique perspective on life as it unfolds during BAK.
Oh, and if you listen to the end, you’ll hear one of the funniest stories ever - but be warned if some light bathroom humor isn’t your thing, this might not be the story for you.
