At some point in time as we chatted while hiking Crow Pass, I mentioned to Jenny that I hadn’t been active for all that many years. It was only as a middle-aged adult that I started being more athletic. I knew what event precipitated the whole odyssey, but I wasn’t sure exactly when. This evening, I was sorting through some old journals, which I really only keep when I’m traveling, and found the one for my first bike tour. That was the beginning….
As a kid growing up in Alaska, it’s hard not to be outdoors a fair amount of time, but as I got older incessant reading and participating in plays and on the Drama, Debate, and Forensics team in high school meant that I spent most of my time indoors. I dreamed of grand adventures, but I didn’t do anything about them. In college and after, I was much too serious and too focused on being a fully functional adult to spend time playing. I worked, I went back to school, I got married, I worked, I went back to school, I had a baby, I worked…. The going back to school finally stopped, but I was otherwise fully on the adult merry-go-round.
Until spring 2004. My bestie, Mandy, had gone on a bicycle tour with WomanTours the previous year and asked if I wanted to go on one that year. Not having any idea what I was getting into, I said yes, but only if we chose a tour that was in the fall. I wanted to have plenty of time to train so that I didn’t make a fool of myself. We chose a September tour of national parks in southern Utah.
That summer I rode 750 miles around Valdez on my Specialized Rock Hopper mountain bike, complete with knobby tires, while pulling three-year-old Rowan in a trailer. By the time September rolled around, I wasn’t going to be any more ready.
The first day of the tour nearly killed me. We were supposed to ride 57 miles from Mt. Carmel to Bryce Canyon, by far the longest day I’d ever attempted. And at an altitude that topped out at 8,073 feet. I was mortified that I couldn’t do it. With 10 miles left to go, I gave up and took a ride in the SAG van (support and gear van) to the hotel.
The next day was spent hiking in Bryce Canyon, so I didn’t have a chance to acquit myself until day 3 with a 50-mile ride from Bryce to Escalante. Although I didn’t say so in my journal, I remember feeling like I was flying on my rented skinny-tire bike.
Actually, what I did frequently in my journal was disparage my abilities. I complained about having a sore butt and tired legs. I noted every steep hill I walked instead of rode and every ride I took in the van. In the end, however, I was pretty darn proud of myself and eager to go on another trip. The next summer I bought my own skinny-tire bike just like the one I’d rented – you can see my Madeleine in all my biking photos even still.
Since that fateful trip (I can’t believe it’s been 15 years ago already!), I’ve bicycle toured in Arizona, Idaho, British Columbia, Alaska, Montana, California, and Bhutan with WomanTours, Adventure Cycling Association, and independently with Mandy. I’ve also done hiking tours in Peru and Nicaragua with Adventures in Good Company, as well as started guiding for them in Alaska, Colorado, and Utah – so far.
For several years I signed up for trips in part because they were in places I wanted to go, but also because I knew if I had something to train for, I’d keep moving. Fear of humiliation in front of a group is a strong motivator. During years I couldn’t travel, I subjected myself to half-marathons, 200-mile/2-day bike rides, and so on, just to force myself to keep moving.
I’m very proud of the fact that I no longer need the fear of public humiliation to keep me moving. After 15 years, moving is just part of who I am. If more than a day or two goes by in which I don’t hike, bike, ski, snowshoe, whatever, my family is kicking me out the door because I’m getting unbearably grumpy.
Of course, I still travel and push myself as much as possible. Hence the mention at the beginning of this missive about hiking Crow Pass, a life-long bucket list item of mine. Next year I’m signed up for a December bike tour in India, as well as guiding at least a couple of hiking trips. I’m also contemplating riding the entire Pacific Coast from Canada to Mexico in the spring. Now, instead of humiliation, I’m trying to figure out what my limits are. I’m happy to say that I haven’t found them yet.
Why did I bother writing all of this drivel? Trust me, it wasn’t to bask in my own glory. What I’m most proud of is not the feats I’ve accomplished, but that in 2004 I was 37 years old. I envy the many people I know who are outdoor athletes in their 20s and early 30s, building on a base started when they were teens. But I think it’s important for all of us to know that it’s never too late. I “ran” my first half-marathon at 47, and now, at 51, have no intention of slowing down. The world is too big and there is too much to see to spend time sitting on the couch at home. I encourage you to figure out what it is that you want to do and just go for it! You’ll do great, and even if you don’t accomplish as much as you’d hoped, you’ll be the only one who knows. There is no public humiliation. And there’s always another adventure to try the next time.
So, what’s your dream? Is there anything I can do to help you achieve it?
