Meatmachine.info

Friday the thirteenth, that’s when it will start.

I’ve got the right bicycle, it’s strong and fast and I know how to keep it happy. I’ve got what I’ll need to eat, sleep, and to stay relatively dry. I’ve got the bus ticket that will take me 1000km from home and leave me with only my bike to return on. I’ve got maps, calendars, timetables, and backup plans. I know what things I’m going to bring on tour.

What I don’t know is what kind of physical and mental shape I am in. A lot of my reason for wanting to tour alone is to explore these limits. I know I can ride a metric century in a day, but I don’t know if I can do it day after day for a week and a half. For the most part my knee is pretty quiet, but after a few hours climbing in drizzle it can get pretty stiff. I don’t know how it will feel after crossing mountains in the rainy season.

What I do know is that this trip is going to teach me a lot about the inside of my skull. It’s going to kill my legs and then build them up again. It’s going to test my patience and my emotional discipline. It’s going to warp my proprioception to the point that any motion but pedaling feels off.

I’m trying to figure out why I am so anxious about touring, but all my reasons for being nervous sound disproportionately serious upon reading them back to myself.

More than anything I am excited. I am thrilled by the idea of waking up and having nothing to do but ride my bike, and ride my bike, and ride my bike. I will be fine.

It’s raining right now, and the sound is growing more comfortable.