I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.
-Henry David Thoreau

It has become a new tradition that every year I go and take a lengthy bike trip to escape my daily grind, to consider where my life is going, and to assess what matters to me.  There is a tranquility almost like meditation that sometimes comes upon me when I cycle long distances, and I learn things about myself.  I think we all need to give ourselves time to hear ourselves think, to avoid the myriad distractions in our lives, and remember (or discover) what has meaning.

One thing that never surprises me but that always comes as a shock is how little I miss my regular life.  I don't ever miss my daily job, find technology to be a nuisance as much as a pleasure, and I sometimes feel a little stillborn whenever I come back, like I am waiting for something to happen.  Out in the country there, making something happen is as easy as putting a foot on the pedal, looking which way you want to go, and making your day begin.  There is pain, there is tiredness, but there is also accomplishment.  I think all this comes from the same source:  knowing what you want to do and why you want to do it.

In that, I think there is a lesson for everyone, and certainly for myself.  How often do we find ourselves doing what is expected, rather than what we want or what we believe.  I know from my experience in politics that about 90% of what people do is posturing, and honestly, I'm sick of the bull shit.  I learned during this trip that I care less about winning than I do about saying what I think, what I believe, and what is true.  I can live with being wrong in judgment, but I just don't feel like wasting any more time of my own, my loved one, or my friends, saying something I don't believe to be true.  I have better things to do.  We all do; that's why so many people don't care because they can tell.  But I'm telling you conclusions, where I should be telling a story.  Here's how my trip went:

Day One: Boston, PA to Connellsville, PA (40 miles)

I left work after lunch on Thursday to begin my trip.  After having a farewell lunch with the girlfriend to get my fueled and ready to go, I reached the trail around 3:00 pm to begin.  This section is relatively flat and having rode it many times, I judged it smart to start a day early so that I would be ready early the next morning to begin the more difficult sections ahead.

I packed my bike very thoroughly.  On the rear of my Trek 4300, I had two panniers filled to the brim, a rolled military sleeping back, and a tent.  I think they must have weighed about thirty pounds in total, and that was more than I should have carried, but I started out optimistically.

As it worked out, this would prove to be a difficult day.  About 9 miles into my journey, I was crossing a road when I had a significant accident.  My bike tire got caught in the rut of a rail road track and when I tried to maneuver out of that position, my bike toppled on top of me.  I caught myself using my right hand and wrist, but the force caused me to hurt myself.  I honestly don't know how bad the injury is, but four days later I am still swollen and can barely put any weight on my wrist.  It made for a miserable ride.

About six miles up the way in West Newton, after a jaunt around a fallen tree that had crossed the path, I went to the local Rite Aid to find some assistance.  So, I'm sitting on a bench with a $.50 popsicle for a cold compress, trying to find relief.  I honestly thought of quitting, but this trip is important to me.  And pain is reality.  Pain gives you focus, and overcoming that has meaning.  That is part of this journey too, the balance that comes from relief and suffering, and finding the irreducible you that somehow lies in between.

I rode on and forward to Connellsville.  It is a very lengthy stretch of trail between there and West Newton (25 miles) and my legs weren't fresh.  It's hard to qualify what that means exactly other than things seemed more painful than usual.  Perhaps it was because I was favoring my wrist.  For those who don't bicycle, you would think the greatest stress is only on your legs, but your shoulders and arms are actually constantly in tension, correcting for your motions, and so a wrist injury requires many adjustments.

I was making okay time under the circumstances, and arrived at the River's Edge Campground around 7 pm.  Seeing that the sun was setting, I went ahead and set up my tent and prepared to settle in for the night.  The facilities there are very nice for the sort of place it is, with a game room, swimming pool, showers, bathrooms, and fire pits.  There were quite a few people there in campers, though only one other couple who was in a tent.  Apparently, they were working their way from Youngstown, OH to Washington, DC, at a very leisurely pace.

One thing I always enjoy about riding the trail is that people are friendly to one another.  Although there are exceptions, most of the people at the businesses that abut the passage as well as the riders and hikers themselves are always looking to help one another.  It's a good thing because if something happens in a remote area, you might be beyond the assistance of anyone other than a passerby, and this always makes me wish people had the same attitude in other places.  I think there are few more terrible ideas than the acceptance we have that someone else can take care of something and "It isn't my problem."

With sunlight rapidly fading, I pedaled ahead the three miles into Connellsville for dinner.  There are few things more joyful than taking in nutrition after a long hard ride.  I went to the Italian Oven, where I usually go when in that town, and had a salad, linguine with chicken and tomatoes, bread, and a few glasses of lemonade.  Delicious, as always, although I took long enough that I was riding back in twilight.  After setting up the tent, eating, and getting ready to hide back, it was 9 pm.

I almost never ride at night for a number of very good reasons, but it was an experience worth relating.  I didn't have my light on me either (I have a head light with LEDs that I can wear in a pinch) so I was just going through the woods, in the dark.  You really can't see anything other than the trail which is lighter and the trees which are darker.  It becomes tricky to tell if you're going straight, and you can't see any bumps in the road or twigs that may have fallen.  It is also exhilarating, in that you find yourself like being in a tunnel where time and distance lose meaning.

But, I made it back within fifteen minutes, showered, and then got ready for bed.  I wanted to charge my phone, so I went to a picnic table near the main lodge, plugged in, and read for about a half hour.  Whenever I took a break, I had something to read, and enjoyed the distraction.  Admittedly, I would rather have been sleeping, but I wanted to make sure I could make contact where necessary.  Tomorrow that wouldn't be possible.

Finally, I returned to my tent, and laid down to sleep.  I didn't actually get to sleep, however, because I'm not good at sleeping on the ground.  My sleeping bag is very warm and comfortable, but I'll admit to being spoiled and not used to sleeping on anything so hard.  When your body is aching, I learned the valuable lesson that you should take care of it.  You can't push your body all day and again at night and expect not to pay the price.  That, however, is the story of tomorrow.  Eventually, I found myself getting to sleep, and with a few interruptions, made it until the birds informed me that it was time to awaken for my second day.