Home Yleinen How does it feel?

How does it feel?

by PointlessPeople

Ever wondered how it feels to be on a bike trip?

Well, it’s like this.

You sit by the road, while cars pass you by at break neck speed, eating some random snack you found at the only gas station that was open. You are covered in dust, sand and dirt, and bugs that have suffocated in your sunscreen lotion.

You don’t know where you will sleep the next night or when you will get there.

You pray for good asphalt, but you know the upcoming 50 miles vill be the same terrible thing with inch longs cracks in it every ten feet.

You know you should drink more, but the hot water in the bottle tastes even worse than it did an hour ago. If that is possible.

Your butt hurts.

And you wish there was some way to get the laundry done, but at the same time you know that is not going to happen in a town with 251 persons living there. Or even in the upcoming days. No point in trying to kid yourself.

You worry all the time whether or not you will be able to make it to your destination, doing pointless calculations in your head dividing distances with overly optimistic approximations of your average speed.

You know that you brought this upon yourself. There is no one else to blame.

Still in your mind you are already planning your next journey. Because in your heart, you know you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

That is about how it feels.

1 comment

John Egan 30.8.2016 - 21:49

Monsieur Leka –

How does it feel?
You wake up in the morning to birdsong and fresh air and have no need to go to the office.
You eat a mushed granola bar for breakfast, but then you find a great cafe in the next town with a friendly waitress.
The road is nearly empty and there is just a cool light breeze as you pedal in a motion not unlike a Tibetan prayer wheel.
A Mennonite farmer asks you to try his water – the coolest, freshest water you have ever tasted.
Then you have two peanut butter sandwiches for lunch topped off with chocolate cookies in the shade of a giant tree.
Maybe a nap is in order – I mean, why ride in the hottest part of the day, eh?
Then it’s an internal debate about where to end up for the night – a different place every day.
In the late afternoon, the shadows lengthen – etching all the ridges and draws of the hillsides.
And sometimes, not always, there is the perfect campsite by the river at day’s end.
The tent smells a bit musty and your clothes leave a little to be desired.
But an owl hoots just as the last bit of light fades.

Best – Juan

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