Halfway there

Day 15: Bodega Dunes to San Francisco


What I mean by grief work:

Aching loneliness. Yet refusing to lean on one more friend. Cycling by landmarks, reminiscing of times gone bad. Screaming at myself for miles. And crying, whimpering, wailing. Trying desperately to hold on, trying to deny and forget, trying to accept and forgive. Crying in shame, crying in loss, crying in fear.

Friends show up as anchors.  Those I’ve known for decades, those I meet on the road. Russ, who put me up tonight, who I met at the Massachusettes Mens Gathering in 1991. Jessica who I just met on the BART, who invited me to the East Bay Bike Party. Your generosity and kindness is balm for my aching heart. Yet, I laugh it off and pretend I’m doing OK. Because in fact I am doing OK.

Grueling ride today. 78 miles from Bodega to Fishermans Wharf, huge climbs, ridiculously rough roads, 80 degree weather, and a mind and heart filled with regrets, obsessions, anxiety, want. The miles worked their healing magic again, and when I finally rolled over the Golden Gate, I was euphoric.

Not just at the accomplishment of such a long ride.  But at seeing my life through a new lens.  Halfway there, in San Francisco, to my destination of San Diego.  And halfway there, at 48, in the middle of my life.  Starting out new, fresh today, tomorrow.  Embracing and forgiving my past. And rolling on ahead, over thrilling roads, meeting beautiful new people, embracing friends and companions..

Thank you, for the present moment, for the sun on my face, for the smile on yours.  Onward!

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