East for Leigh, West for Me

As the two of you know, I’m not a stable person. The way I overcome this is by constant movement and engaging in ‘projects’. I’m always up to something. Otherwise, it gets too quiet in my helmet. But there is always a moment when I come up for air and realize the trouble I’ve made. Today was that day.

I didn’t really plan for this trip very well. II talked about it, I knew it was coming, but it was only a couple weeks ago that I decided how I was going to get here. Like I mentioned before, it’s so ‘big’ that I couldn’t simply get on a plane the day-of and show up. It had to have drama. This coming weekend has been sitting in the corner of every room I’ve been in for months just sort of staring at me.

I actually didn’t think it would be as difficult as it has been. Today I started to really feel the time I’ve been away from home, away from work and away from family. It’s only been five days but it feels like I’ve been gone longer than that. I’m feeling lonely and a bit tired.

I’m two-thirds of the way to Vermejo. It hit me today that I’m only one-third of the way through with the whole trip, considering that I have to go back. And I can’t be gone for fifteen days so I was really feeling a bit panicked today about what I’ve gotten myself into. Yesterday, I started to entertain thoughts of shipping my bike home or leaving it and flying back and coming back to get it later. But I couldn’t really dwell on that because I had to worry about staying up right and in one piece.

Sitting around today gave me too much time to think. I started working through the scenarios in my head. Then I called Rachel. You know how sometimes you are thinking about something and then someone says to you what you are thinking inside your head and that makes it real? Rachel mentioned that I had to ride the bike back and that is all it took to push me into a panic. I tried to be cool on the phone, but after I hung up I started to really think about the details. I started to think about how long it takes to drive one mile. And I thought about how every mile I drive east; I’m going to have to drive that mile back west. I had a few conference calls today for work and there were questions about when this project would be complete and when I could schedule that call and what exactly would be delivered.

I started thinking about how I needed to get back home. I started calling around to see about how you would ship a motorcycle home. I started to look into where exactly you could park a bike for a month or so at an airport like Denver and what the flight schedules looked like. I thought about the costs of implementing these plans, the amount of time it would take to set them up, how soon I could expect to put something in motion and where I would need to be to do that. The first two long-term parking lots I called said they don’t take motorcycles. I called a storage unit rental company but they didn’t have anything large enough on the ground floor that I could drive my bike into. I emailed one and called two shipping companies. Only one was open and they said they could get me a quote and shipping schedule by the middle of next week.

It was a frenzy of typing, calling and thinking.

And sinking.

And feeling like a dumb shit for doing this.

It’s hard to think clearly when thoughts are rushing through your head like the wind. Then a customer of mine called me on my cell phone and asked me for a meeting this week. I told them I was indisposed, but I could possibly do it next week. They asked me if I could do it first thing on Monday and I said no… but how about Tuesday at 10AM? Done. So working backwards from 10AM Tuesday, I had to throw out all the plans that would not put me back at my desk at that time. That was pretty much all the plans. The only way I can get back by then is to ride. And there is no ignoring the distance. The most direct route back from Vermejo is fifteen hundred miles. And driving a mile in a car is not the same as riding a mile on a bike. Somehow they are a lot farther on a bike. The most I can hope to ride in a day is about five hundred miles that will take about eleven hours if I only stop for gas and to let blood circulate in my legs and hands. That means, when I see a sign like this, I have to ignore them and keep riding. No matter if it explains why clowns are so scary, why I have a minimum room price and why I won’t eat a dirty food... all at the same time.

So, the panic has passed and I know what I need to do. This is a serious ride. I need to focus on being safe, accomplishing my mission and getting my ass back home to my family and commitments. I will have to apologize later for the abruptness of my visit to Vermejo.

This ride to Vermejo is a tribute to Leigh. I know she would be laughing until she cried at what I’m doing and she would appreciate it. And after I let her go on Friday, I know I have a life I need to race back home to. I know Leigh would appreciate that too.