It’s Like Riding a Bike
Words by Cat and Lorin
Cat: It’s never been about the bike for me. My driving force is to see how people are living; my means of getting around is by bicycling. Why bicycle? Maybe I was influenced by the world of transportation I was introduced to by Tyce. Maybe I had just reached the point of feeling confident in choosing my own way of living life. Maybe I was tired of coasting along and constantly acting as though I were stepping off the well-worn path, when in reality I was just taking little side streets that were still paved.
Lorin: It was a strange time in my life when Cat approached me with the idea of riding our bikes across the United States. I had just returned from living in Cape Town for three months and was experiencing a surge of confusing emotions. There were moments when I would feel as though I didn’t recognize the life I was living and had forgotten how to operate in social settings. I realized that I was having trouble understanding the concept of time. Prior to traveling, I had spent a lot of time thinking about how to be mentally present, and how to make the most of every moment; but before I knew it, I was on my flight home. Realizing, in that moment, that my trip was over felt more tangible than some of the best memories I had made throughout my time in Cape Town. How did the time go by so quickly? Had I failed at being present? Why is it that going home felt like reality while the past three months felt like a dream? These were the unsettling thoughts that overcame me as the reality set in that my collegiate career, one of the last structured chapters of my life, was coming to an end. With no idea of what I wanted to do, or where I wanted to go, I was certain of two things: I wanted to tell stories and I wanted to continue traveling.
Cat: My desire to bike across the country was sustained beyond the initial idea because a) I was sick of driving a car — folding myself into a mechanical bubble that forced me to sit, and my body to deteriorate, while I added to the increasing CO2 levels in the atmosphere. b) I felt isolated from the environment and other people. I felt like I was on a track that I hadn’t chosen, that didn’t allow me many chances to meet people living differently than myself, and that sheltered me from the outdoors. c) I felt the cocoon of my life, cuddling/lulling me into a perception of reality created by limited experience. I couldn’t commit to a point of view, or a lifestyle, when I had no idea what it was like to live in any states other than California and Oregon.
Lorin: My instantaneous commitment to this trip didn’t surprise me. In a way, I was seeking an opportunity to prolong my ascent into a career that I wasn’t sure I wanted yet. I needed more time. I knew that I would be doing myself a disservice if I settled into an environment that didn’t encourage the self growth that I needed in order to truly understand what I have to offer. I realized that fixing a flat tire was not going to be the biggest challenge of this trip. The true challenge was going to come from within. I knew that the trip would signify both a battle and an expedition in cultivating mental willpower, emotional growth, and self confidence. All of which would grant me a better understanding of myself and my relationship with my surroundings. I was excited by these internal challenges, as well as the opportunity to meet people from all walks of life.
Cat: As I started to be more aware of the current state of the world, I found myself feeling seriously uneducated. I hadn’t grasped the implication of history’s events on present reality. I felt some sort of societal expectation for my life but I hadn’t been able to understand my individual experience in the context of individual experiences that are much different than mine. I felt like a child again. A child with years of education in abstract ideas, but little awareness of the forces that dictate what roles are placed on you and what roles you can choose to play in the world.
Lorin: There was a particular moment throughout my travels that sparked my interest in exploring more of the United States. I was playing a game of trivia at a pub with some Europeans when suddenly, everyone looked at me with wide, demanding eyes. We had 5 seconds to locate Kentucky on a map and it was my turn to shine. I panicked. I chose wrong, and gave my friends even more of an excuse to tease me for being an American. The sense of shame that I felt was overcome with a determination to be a more informed citizen. It seemed all too easy to grow up on the West Coast in a liberal community, move to Oregon with more likeminded peers, and then travel the world whimsically—leaving behind the problems that plague the United States without taking responsibility for them, nor realizing the gross impact they have on the rest of the world. I knew that if I was going to contribute to society, I needed to understand my place in it. But where does one even start to understand the complex history of the United States? It’s overwhelming to say the least. Every state has a unique place in history, every community has a contextual version of that history and every individual’s lineage tells infinite versions of that same story. To be able to hear even a small portion of these individual stories in person seemed like the best way to begin.
Cat: And that’s why I chose biking; because it opens me to a slew of new interactions with people who I wouldn’t meet if I weren’t reliant on their community, moving slowly, trying to stay off highways, and without a car window to roll up and block me from conversation. It makes me acutely aware of the environment I’m passing through and makes me more dependent on it. It makes me feel the pressures of the problems communities face because I am vulnerable, small, and fragile. While peddling from one place to the next, I have the time to learn about the histories of communities I enter and to contextualize that within the knowledge I gain from podcasts and personal reflection. Oh and not to mention, it’s wonderfully freeing not having to worry about gas prices, parking, vehicle registration, or insurance.
Lorin: One day, as I began to make riding a prominent aspect of my life, I felt a new sensation. I felt in control. I had heard about something called runner’s high but didn’t truly understand the feeling until I stopped thinking so much about the mechanics of the bike and started letting my mind wander. I experienced the blissful feeling of moving forward while drifting into a mental space of freedom. My surroundings were passing so quickly that I hardly had time for words to form in my mind as I took in the fresh air and absorbed the transient noises — then suddenly I arrived at my destination. I was in awe of the thought that my two legs got me there. Just like that I was in a new city. I was finally starting to feel present again. It almost felt as though I was cheating time, or at least the construct of time that I had previously formed. In that moment, I realized the magic of bicycle touring. The constant stimulation of absorbing new terrain every day would offer a brief look into hundreds of different realities. I would have the ability to witness myriad modes of existence, as if I were traveling through space and time. Every person we would encounter would be living proof of history, each of them with the ability to shine light on what they know to be true. The beauty of it all, I thought, is that while experiencing these realities, I would slowly be able to cultivate an idea of how I want to live and who I want to be after the trip is over.
Cat: I didn’t know what the trip would have in store for us, but when everything else was up for questioning, the only thing I was certain of was that I had to make this trip. Many people reacted in a way that could have dissuaded me, and a handful of people gave me their vote of confidence. I knew that underneath all the trappings it was nothing more than riding a bike, so I didn’t give any weight to the people who gave criticism without accompanying constructive ideas, and I spent more time with the people who were interested in helping me figure out how to make it happen. Now I’m finding, like an adult who hasn’t ridden a bicycle in years, that regaining a sense of freedom, empowerment, and active participation in life can be just like riding a bike.
