#3 — Stumbling Forward and Onward
I’m not the smartest, the most capable, nor the most adaptable.
I make more mistakes than I’d like and I often don’t meet my own standards.
I struggle with the most basic of necessities like feeding myself and finding places to use the restroom.
And because of all of that, I continue to push and stumble forward and onward to see if I can learn, grow, and become a better person along the way.
Guadalajara, Mexico
I write to you from the beautiful and large city of Guadalajara! (that is a lot of a’s).
I arrived just before the sun dissapeared over the gently rising mountains lining the horizon to the west.
I pushed hard, riding nearly 500km in a day to arrive here a day ahead of schedule to be able to pass a few days here rather than a single day in each place I otherwise would have stayed.
Peanut Butter and Jelly.
I think I am going on day 5 of eating mostly granola bars, apples and oranges, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
I tell myself it is mostly because I want to save money. But, in reality, I think it is more due to the fact that it is easier and less stressful to eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich than it is to go find places to eat or buy food 3 times a day.
Holding it till I arrive.
I rode an hour yesterday with a full bladder because the gas station bathroom I had stopped at had a locked turn-style gate that needed coins to operate.
I didn’t want to have to read the Spanish signs for how much it costs and look a fool trying to figure it out so I didn’t use the restroom; instead, holding a full bladder another hour until I arrived at my hostel for the night.
Making mistakes.
I ran out of gas and pesos at the same time yesterday.
Overpaid a tollbooth man by a good bit but was too flustered and self-conscious to say anything.
Spilled coins at every tollbooth because I never took the time to organize my pockets when leaving a tollbooth for fear of making the people behind me wait longer than needed.
Drove down a one-way street.
Nearly hit another car head-on when trying to make a left turn (admittedly because they didn’t turn on their blinker). Oh, but also nearly hit another motorcyclist in a tiny town when I turned too sharply onto his street (no excuses there).
Went in circles around a block 3 times trying to find the way to the main road following Google Maps blindly rather than looking at the world for myself and seeing (clearly) that the maps were lost.
Rode out of line at a security checkpoint and had a soldier yell and run at me only to see the guilt and confusion in my eyes to let me pass with just a warning.
Tried very hard for the last 3-weeks to not drink any water without knowing it was filtered or came from a bottle only to eat a bowl of soup (that’s still bad, right?) because I felt pressured into it.
I’m a mess.
And yet I stumble forward and onward.
Pushing my limits.
I feel a need to push my limits nearly every single day.
That is not, sadly, because of some romantic reality where I am driven and inspired every moment to raise the roof.
No.
It is because even the smallest of tasks, decisions, and social situations can stop me in my tracks. Paralyzed.
If I don’t push my limits, I sit in my bed, wallowing in YouTube videos I don’t even want to watch until the world forces me to get up (hygiene, food, water, checkout time, a fire, I'm not picky).
My limits are set anew each day at the same crippling low point.
And so… I stumble. But… I stumble onward and forward.
Onward and forward.
It took everything out of me to get on the plane from Colorado to California.
Everything again to wake up the next morning and drag myself out of bed knowing that was it. The trip, the journey to Patagonia had begun.
It took all I could muster to remain calm as I brushed my teeth, forced myself to eat something at the continental breakfast at my hotel in San Diego, pack my things, organize my paperwork for the border and then leave to start riding south toward Mexico.
I nearly lost control the first night in Mexico. Crushed by anxieties, by things unknown, things yet to come, things I couldn’t even put a name to and yet most assuredly haunted me.
Crushed by loneliness I felt more strongly than ever as a product of the empty hostel in which I stayed and the seemingly empty road that stretched out 20,000 unknown kilometers ahead of me.
It took everything again to pack my motorcycle with all my things and leave the small sanctuary of a few restful days in La Paz, Mexico and head to the Port in Pichilingue to go through customs, border patrol, and board a boat to head to the mainland (real Mexico).
And here we are again. Sitting at my laptop in a beautiful hostel in Guadalajara, Mexico. It’s lunchtime, I am hungry. I need to think about changing the oil on my bike, getting groceries to cook tonight as well as thinking of something to cook and eat right now.
And here I sit. Battling the part of me that just wants to pretend the oil can wait another day.
Battling the part of me that says peanut butter and jelly sandwiches have all the nutrients I need in life and far less of the stress than other means.
Never-ending battle.
I don’t know if I will change anything, I don’t know if I can gain an upper hand in the constant battles against myself in every moment of my life.
But if I can, if there is hope in growing into the person I want to be, then that hope must lie in continuing to push forward, onward, stumbling or not, until I find my true limit or gain enough perspective, years, and grey hair to withstand the pressures of my mind.
Until then, I’ll just keep living :)
