California - Home
All great literature is one of two stories; a man goes on a journey or a stranger comes to town. - Tolstoy
I woke up in my bed for the first time in 2 months. What I just experienced felt like a blur, and I couldn’t comprehend the concept of biking across the country; although, I had just done it. I would have moments of disbelief in and out of me, but one thing was certain: I was at home. I felt at home.
This concept of home, as part of this journey, started before entering the roof I dwell in. It was the moment I was biking on known roads, inherently understanding the surroundings, the landscape, driver behavior and all the elements that provide the character of the land I was now in, and very familiar with. I had a total of 4 days of biking in California from the moment I entered in South Lake Tahoe, on my way through Pioneer, Sacramento, Bennett Valley into my home in San Francisco. This last stretch did not feel like I was making new memories as part of this journey but remembering old ones as I embraced being back where I wanted to be. In that sense, it felt like the journey was already over; the exploration of the land and myself were over for the time being. I was now truly just biking home and no longer a stranger coming into a new town.
It’s been a few days since arriving back and I still can’t pinpoint why this experience came back into my life when it did. Was it about letting go? Was it about making peace? Or was it simply about resetting while I conclude one chapter and begin another one? Well, it was… it was about all of them; a process that would never be complete and without a finality. I kept having to go through them over and over and over again as I faced the daily challenges, and struggles of the journey. I had many good days I want to remember and tell stories about. Also, I had bad days I wanted to forget, but became the greatest teacher of all in understanding myself. Each day would be about letting go of the experience of the previous day and be about starting over again with an openness and curiosity to see what the new day would bring my way. It was truly a perpetual forward motion, including all the obstacles, the headwinds and tailwinds that make each moment of that path what it was. In a sense, I am now realizing the past 3 years of dealing with grief was no different. There was never a point I can recall that a feeling ended, and another began. It was a process that required patience and emotional honesty to myself about where I was along that process. But it was a continuous forward motion; sometimes accelerated and other times slowed down.
I reflected a lot about my journey. Some reflections made me happy; put a smile on my face, and others made me sad. But those reflections were no longer weighing me down, slowing me as I progressed along my life. The reflections were also not about seeking some profound moment that justified the decision I made to go after this experience. There was no profound moment, just an understanding that I had to take what life threw at me in its entirety. Biking across the country really became about how I approached my daily existence; how I responded to challenges and obstacles; what I held on to or let go of, and what was I learning about myself on that road. And it wasn’t about whether I was living life the right or wrong way. There was no right or wrong way to experience the road. The only thing I needed to know and believe was that it was worth being on, and I would figure things out along the way that worked for me.
But there was this one moment, biking along in Colorado when I realized that I would be arriving in Sonoma, to the place Brynn and I were married, the day before what would’ve been our 4-year anniversary. The ride had many schedule changes, first with a start that was accelerated by two weeks. During it, I had also gained 3 days ahead of that schedule that had me on this course. It was hard to think about the vastly different place I was now in only a short few years later. The decisions I had made along the grief path were never pre-meditated. I went along with my state of mind and emotions at the time, as there is truly not a “how-to” book about dealing with such thing. And one of those such things were why I held on to Brynn’s ashes. I desperately wanted to hold on to her physical presence no matter what shape or form it was in. But I no longer needed to hold on to certain tangible things about us, because she was with me all along, no matter where I had been or going on my journey. There is never a “right time” to do certain things, like letting go of your spouse’s ashes. But all these unplanned parts intersecting right there and then made me believe she would be happy under the tree we were married, in a place that meant the world to the both of us. And on our anniversary, I celebrated and honored her and our marriage. I will always be able to look at that big open beautiful field and know she is there.
After taking on such challenge, one wonders whether I have made peace with what led me to go on such journey. I realize people were incorrect to think anyone could ever make peace with losing someone they loved with all their heart. What I’m realizing now, the only peace I needed to make was with the person who was still alive. The person who kept on writing in this story. And I was making peace with myself by simply living! Living with the memories; living to experience new things and develop new memories; living for the good days, and through bad days, but living to see the person I had become because of it all.
I don’t know what I will write in the next chapter, or where this journey will take me. And that is the scary, yet beautiful thing about the story we get tell about ourselves. But I am certain it will most likely begin with “And then I went for a run….”
-Troy
Ride Stats
Days on the Road: 58 days (8 days off)
Distance Covered: 3,856 miles
Total Ascent: 187,663 feet
Stories to tell: to many to count