Howdy friends, welcome back! I'm finally finishing this post about a week later than I planned. Isn't procrastination such a strange thing? And writing is hard! I'm hopeful that I'll be able to keep this blog updated throughout the Fall semester because I genuinely enjoy writing these and I think its really cool to be able to share them with a few of y'all! Fair warning, this is another long one and I probably overshare a bit. If you decide to read on, thank you and please enjoy :)
For those who don't already know, two weeks ago I decided, kinda on a whim, that I'd challenge myself to ride 500+ miles in 7 days. My motivation to attempt this came after hearing incredible stories about humans pushing past the perceived limitations of both body and mind. People like Wim Hof who has climbed a large portion of Mt. Everest in nothing but shorts and ran a marathon in a desert with no water, among many other feats; or Colin O'Brady who walked across Antartica solo and unaided; or David Goggins who lost 160lbs in 6 months and became a Navy Seal after completing BUD/S on two broken legs. These men, along with many others, make it clear that they aren't special and that anyone with the right mindset can push themselves to achieve much more than they ever thought possible. With this in mind and the Summer coming to an end, I figured I'd push myself to ride in a similar way to how I might next Summer (50-120 miles per day). So, I came up with this 7-day schedule starting on Thursday with a 50 mile ride, 70 miles Friday, no ride on Saturday (I was planning on doing a yard sale, but that didn't work out), 80 miles Sunday, 90 miles Monday, 100 miles Tuesday, and 120 miles on Wednesday. Had I completed it, I would have covered 510 miles in a week. Unfortunately, I fell just short, finishing Wednesday with about 450 miles on my wheels. That's still an average of about 65 miles per day, and if I was heading West I could've made it to Columbus Ohio. Or, if I went North I could have made it to Boston or Wilmington had I gone South. That's pretty cool to think that in just 7 days on a bike, I could have theoretically travelled through a few states and into a totally new major city. Man, it's gonna be a trip when I actually do that next Summer.
Although in decent shape, I had never cycled more than 30 miles in a day and was certainly not in any position to be riding 500 miles in a week. I also knew, however, that it wasn't an impossible task and I was excited to put my mentality to the test -- something I had never really done before. I knew it would be hard, but I honestly I didn't expect to experience so many moments of pain, self-doubt, and at times downright misery. I have been incredibly fortunate to live all 22 years of my life very comfortably with no major mental or physical health complications, a loving family, and virtually all my wants/needs tended to. With that however, comes a lack of discomfort which, thanks to the previously mentioned individuals, I've realized can be problematic. It sounds counterintuitive at first, but experiencing struggle, discomfort, or pain is great for personal growth. I always think back to the few heartbreaks I've had and the exponential growth that came in their wake. Working through those periods of pain and sadness have probably been the most difficult times of my life and subsequently the most transformative. Today I reflect on those times with immense gratitude for how they challenged me to become a stronger, happier, more understanding, and more patient person, just to name a few improvements. Using this logic, if we seek discomfort and pain we can facilitate this type of growth on our own terms. This however, is much easier said than done. Evolutionarily speaking, we're drawn to comfortable things because comfort means safety and safety means survival. And in a world where comfort comes so easily, it's often quite difficult to pry yourself off the couch or away from the TV.
Now, I'm not necessarily an advocate for the hardcore lifestyle of David Goggins -- who has essentially built his life off of intense suffering (seriously, his life story is insane and hard to believe) -- but I do think there's a lot of hidden value in making ourselves at least a little uncomfortable. I don't think that life should be hard all the time (there has actually been some evidence to suggest that people who perceive life to be long and easy are the happiest), but we should have a willingness to do hard things for our own benefit. Just because something is difficult doesn't mean it isn't worth doing. This idea obviously isn't new, in fact it's kind of the whole idea of the American dream, but I think we approach it totally wrong. We often think of life being hard as a negative consequence of being a human and although that's widely accepted to be true, how many of us truly embrace that? Your life might be crappy and hard because you have to wake up early and go to a job you don't enjoy where you get paid very little but is it really hard to keep working that job? I'd argue that keeping that job is the easier, more comfortable alternative to striving for a better life. The real hard work would be breaking free from that job and pursuing a passion while everyone around you tries to convince you that you're crazy and you've made a huge mistake. This idea can be applied to anything, not just work. Physical fitness is a perfect example; the equation is pretty simple: to get bigger, faster, or stronger you have to work hard. After that hard work though, you often feel amazing and before you know it, you will be bigger, faster, or stronger. Consider times when you've woken up early and crushed a workout, you probably crushed the rest of the day too because you're feeling energized and good about yourself, and by doing that hard physical work at the beginning of the day, everything after it seems easy.
Ok, so maybe you're not totally on board with everything I've said so far, I get it, I still struggle with it myself! I have another reason for you to seek discomfort and do hard things. Let's say you live a great life and are perfectly happy with your health, family, job, etc. but then you're suddenly diagnosed with cancer. How will you react to that? Will you be prepared for the challenges that come with it? Or will your life crumble under the weight of such a heavy diagnosis? I provide this hypothetical because no matter how you spin it, life will be hard at times and we should be prepared to deal with those times and come out the other side better than we went in. I'm not saying anyone can really be prepared for a cancer diagnosis, but by voluntarily doing hard things or putting ourselves in uncomfortable situations, we can be better equipped with the tools to deal with unexpected and/or difficult situations. In times of peril, we can think think back to previous hard times and say "hey, I ended up being okay after that difficult time so I can get through this one too". Going back to my heartbreak example, I was a pathetic wreck after the first one; I was searching for where to place blame, trying to fix things, trying to understand why it happened, etc. The next one wasn't all of a sudden a walk in the park but I dealt with it with clearer vision and had an awareness that the sadness would pass. My point is, hard stuff will always be hard, but through our experiences we develop the tools necessary to effectively deal with the hard stuff. To round this out, I'd like to mention that most of what I've just said is simply me regurgitating the words of others. Like I said, my life has been pretty easy and I don't have many personal experiences to draw from nor am I a shining example of someone who does a lot of hard things, but I do believe in the strategy.
Sheesh, I started writing this to talk about riding a bike and now here I am preaching lifestyle adjustments. Honestly, I think I just needed to type that all out for myself more than anything; sort of like a reminder of what I've learned and that I need to get it together and start actually acting on it. Either way, let's get to the bike riding.
Instead of boring you with detailed descriptions of every ride, I'll just focus on the highlights (and lowlights) as well as my thoughts and reflections on the experience.
Putting in all these hours (about 37 by the end of it) on the bike meant a lot of time alone -- seriously alone. I couldn't watch TV, check emails, or scroll through social media. I could however listen to podcasts, music, or audiobooks which did fill much of my time on the bike. That said, I made it a point to spend at least the first hour of each ride totally alone with no music or any other external stimulation. This allowed me to be more present and absorb the scenery, (aka corn, soybeans, cows, and more corn). It also enabled me to go quite deep into my mind and explore big questions like "who am I?", "why am I here?", and "what do I want to do?". Without getting too personal, I felt a strong sense of purpose when grappling with the answers to these questions and felt confident in my decision to pursue this endeavor and be an example/inspiration for others. Many times, I thought, "why am I even doing this?", but was always able to return to the thought that maybe, just maybe, someone who is reading my social media posts or this blog, or even passing me in their car felt inspired to hop on their bike or go for a walk. The potential to positively impact even just one person was enough to keep me chugging along. Additionally, being part of something much larger than myself -- the Ulman Foundation and their mission -- gave me plenty of extra fuel.
I enjoyed spending time thinking about nothing in particular and doing a sort of moving meditation. In previous blogs I've mentioned my interest in yoga and meditation, but these rides were totally different; instead of dedicating 20-30 minutes to be with myself, it was hours -- and that's when it gets intense. I found all of this time with myself to be difficult but extremely valuable; it made me realize how little we truly are alone and how important it is to explore that for long periods of time. You know when someone asks you a tough question, like "what is your purpose?" and you default to answering with "that's a good question, I'll have to think about it" but you never think about it? When it's just you and your mind, you're optimally positioned to actually think about those questions. Even without the convenient distractions of a phone, laptop, or TV, it's still hard to maintain enough focus to answer these types of questions. So now we're back to doing hard things to make us better -- its hard to be honest with yourself, to identify your shortcomings, to probe for your purpose, but man it sure is rewarding. All this said, I still have more work to do, and always will; I don't think there is an end to anything in life, not even death. It's all a beautiful process where you're either progressing or regressing, never in stasis. Alright, let's see if I can write a paragraph without veering totally off topic and into philosophical mumbo jumbo.
Let's talk about why I fell short of 500+ miles. To start, I'd like to admit to my failure. I've spent this whole blog explaining the importance of doing hard things and experiencing pain, etc. and yet, I essentially gave up on the last day. After getting my second flat tire of the week, I saw an easy excuse to cut the suffering short and I took it. At around mile 30 the day was starting to warm and after a great start I was beginning to feel exhausted -- both mentally and physically -- so I pulled off the road to have some water and rest for a few minutes. I still don't know what I ran over but something at the junction of Hudson Rd and Cooks Point Rd in Cambridge took the air from my back tire. I looked down at the slack rubber in disbelief and disappointment. Or was it relief? To be honest, I felt both as I chuckled at my situation and the emotions that accompanied it.
As I mentioned earlier, the real challenge was overcoming my own mind. I hadn't been sore all week and the physical exhaustion wasn't insurmountable. My brain, however, was very tired and desperately wanted me to stop -- so too was my butt. It's a very a cliche thing to say, but after doing this I experienced the reality that my biggest competitor in life is myself. The amount of doubt and negativity that sometimes invades your mind is astounding and I had felt a lot it in each of the days prior. By the final day I had proved to myself that I could deal with the pain and the doubt, yet I still chose to accept defeat. You may be thinking, "ok buddy, you literally have a flat tire, of course you can't ride another 90 miles". And had I not just passed a bike shop not even a mile earlier, my defeat would be much less dramatic. But, by some strange account of fate and fortune, I had just passed a bike shop and I began pushing my bike back towards what might've been the only place in Dorchester County that could have helped me. To be clear, I didn't throw in the towel without quite a bit of deliberation, although I think subconsciously my mind was made up as soon as I saw the flat. I weighed my options, or pretended to I suppose, as I smiled and nodded to the cars that whizzed past me on the way to the shop. To my relief -- or was it disappointment? -- the owner, John, had just returned from a bluegrass festival in Pennsylvania and was delighted to help me out.
No exaggeration, John's collection of 400+ bicycles was my temporary residence for almost two hours. We confirmed that I'd need a new tube, and after some rummaging, John emerged with a brand new tube of just the right size -- lucky me! Not only did I learn a little bit about bikes, but I also learned that I had a lot in common with a 70-year-old bicycle mechanic/collector/buyer/seller. As he examined the tire for any remaining puncture threats, he shared, with incredible detail, stories from his childhood and into adulthood. John's memory amazed me almost as much as the tales he told. His care-free yet considerate outlook on life and ability to be present was inspiring and although he assured me that he tells everyone the same stories he told me, I felt honored to have heard them. This kind of interaction is something I've been excited to experience for a while now and I'm hopeful many more will follow. Those couple hours with John were my first taste of what I know in my heart exists all across the country and the globe -- true, indiscriminate, unwavering compassion. Encounters like that are what I think can change a person's entire perception; they may see the world to be doomed and filled with hate, only to be shown that kindness and love exists even in places where you'd never expect. I also think there's something really special in being able to connect with a total stranger and learn from one another. As fun as it was to hang with John and his dog Bluke, the time came for me to decide how I'd spend the rest of my day. It was now 1pm and with the sunset 7 hours away, I wondered if I'd even be able to cycle 90 miles before running out of daylight.
I decided 90 miles in 7 hours wasn't realistic for me and after eating lunch next-door to John's, I started back towards town. About an hour later I parked my bike at Sailwinds where I sat for a couple hours reflecting on the day and the week behind me. Despite my failure, I basked in the feeling of completion and found peace with it. I reminded myself that my life is mine, no-one else's, and while it's great to learn and take advice from others like the people I mentioned earlier, that doesn't mean I have to do exactly as they have done. If you couldn't tell, I have a tendency to latch onto certain ideas and identify with them as if they were my own. I realized I need to take what is useful to me and leave the rest. I thoroughly enjoyed sitting there, with nothing to do, no agenda, no goals to achieve, and found it to be as personally valuable as all the time I just spent on the bike. What's important is that this wouldn't have been possible without the grueling days the preceded it. If all you've been doing every day is sitting on the couch eating chips, it feels pretty crappy right? But after a long week of hard work, the couch feels like a cloud and the chips taste like heaven. The hard work is worth much less without the reflection and the reflection can't occur in an absence of work. Yin and Yang :)
And something else I realized was, if I do this 120 miles, then what? Do I keep increasing it? Am I done? That's kinda what solidified the idea that life is a process. It's just about choosing what you want that process to be like. I continue to think about many aspects of this experience and how to apply what I learned to my life. Like the importance of a dedicated focus over a multi-tasking effort. Or the beauty of pain. I'm still struggling to discern between ideas that sound good and ideas/philosophies that I truly believe in. I'd like to be able to come up with my own original philosophies one day and I think to do that, I need to get away from all the noise. Constantly listening to advice from others and their beliefs has been hugely beneficial to me, but in breaking down barriers to self-discovery they've simultaneously created a whole new barrier to discovering myself. It's like all these wonderful people have shown me there's light at the end of tunnel but they also spun me around in circles in a tunnel with 100 different paths to search for the light.
I've always been obsessed with outcome rather than process. These long bike rides have shown me that if I really want to be successful and happy, I have to shift my perspective. We are our greatest teachers and if all we care about is completing a task or getting through the day, we'll learn very little. By trusting that the process will lead to the right outcome, we can stop being slaves to our goals. Don't get me wrong, having goals is a beautiful and necessary part of life, but what good are they if we never take the time to appreciate all the work we did or are doing to achieve them? When I take a moment to really think about some of the things I've accomplished, I feel a great sense of pride and joy. For example, riding all those miles was really hard. I'm proud of my discipline to wake up early every day and focus on virtually nothing else but riding a bike. I'm proud of the strength and resilience I showed to keep going when all I wanted to do was quit. I'm proud of myself for pondering tough, personal questions along the way. And finally, I'm proud of myself for "failing"; I had become so focused on the outcome that I lost the joy of the process. I was constantly thinking about how good it would feel to post on instagram that I finished 120 miles or I was worried about how bad it'd feel to report back having not completed it. That time I spent with John and all the previous miles had given me all the value I could've asked for and more. So, I'm proud of my "failure" because before this, I had rarely even put myself in a position to fail. I have always chosen the safer option, but for the first time in my life, I chose to embrace the possibility of failure and on that final day, I successfully failed.
It's not about the outcome, it's about the process. It's not about the miles you ride, it's about the conversations you have with yourself along the way. It's not about the finish line, it's about the people who help you get there. It's not about the award, certificate, or social media praise, it's about the lessons you learn. It's not about success or failure, it's about doing and being. The ironic beauty is, reducing your focus on the outcome is a constant process in itself, you'll never be totally free from the desire to be "done". We're always going to have the urge to "just be done with it"and in recognizing that urge, we can try to enjoy the process no matter how boring or painful. To trust the process takes a great deal of humility and compassion for ourselves; know that often times you'll catch yourself so focused on the outcome, you're on autopilot. When this happens, try not to get frustrated, be kind to yourself and love that you recognized it when you did and go from there. I often want so badly to move on to the next thing that all I think about is what I'm gonna do next. I'll think to myself "ok, once I finish this, I'll do the dishes then I can study for a bit then I can relax then I can..." And it's incredibly inefficient and exhausting. Even right now I'm not fully present -- I'm thinking about what I'm making for breakfast and the homework I need to do after that. But that's part of the process. I've recognized my flaw and now its up to me to be better.
I already miss the highly focused routine that I had while biking. As someone who's constantly trying to be more efficient, and always jumping from one thing to the next, all that time where there was nothing to do but bike was special. An important takeaway from that is that just because the challenge is over, doesn't mean I can't carry on that mentality. Being a college student prevents having such a restrictive focus, but I can still carve out times for each specific thing I need to work on and give it my full attention. That's something I've started trying to do this semester already. When it's time for one class, I want my full attention to be on that class, not emails or planning my day, just that class. Then, when it's time for the next class or club, I move on from the last one and give my full attention to the present moment. Its much easier said than done, but... that's the process :)
Phew, that was a lot -- over 4,000 words!!! I proofread it twice so fingers crossed I didn't miss any typos. Thank you so much for reading. Sorry for all the philosophical tangents; I totally understand if I lost you in some of that because I'm not even sure if I know what I was saying at times. Regardless, I hope you were able to get something out of this, and if not, well, that's life I guess. I promise the next post will be much shorter.
Happily,
Hayden
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