The Road to Self

In the summer after high school, I was a part of a group that rode bicycles from Monterey to Santa Barbara in California. It was a trip that lasted more than 200 miles, over the course of 3 days. I remember training for that trip. It was brutal. Our training rides started at 10 miles. I could do 10. Then we did 20. I thought, okay, I can barely survive 20. Then, one day we went out riding, and it felt like we were never going to turn around. I started getting more and more nervous, the longer we rode, and instead of hoping to turn around, I started hoping for a car to be waiting for us around the next bend to take us back home. After approximately 20 miles, our leader, who happened to be my father, told us it was time to turn around.

My legs were screaming. My brain was screaming. I thought that if I had to turn my legs another revolution, they might just fall off. But I couldn’t just stop. So my legs kept turning. Next thing I knew, another hour passed. I somehow stopped thinking about it. I had some sort of moment where my brain felt like it detached from my body, and it no longer felt the pain. After the 40-something miles ended, I remember riding back up to my house, stumbling to get off my bike, and I collapsed in the front yard. It was one of the most blissful moments of my life. My perception of physical limits was shattered. I felt like I could do anything. Of course, I couldn’t even walk the next day, but I was not the same person anymore. On the third day of that biking trip, I rode over 100 miles in a single day. Those 100 miles were far easier than the 40. This illustrates the principle I can relate back to Petrarch. I had a sort of experience where I was able to discover something about myself. And needless to say, Highway 1 is gorgeous. 200 miles along that coast is phenomenal. I highly recommend it.