Lost in the Wilderness: A Cycling Adventure

OK. "Lost" is a funny term. I knew where I was. I knew where I wanted to be. I had a way to eventually connect those dots. But it wasn't the way I wanted to go or the place I wanted to be. It had already taken hours longer than expected, and the time-space continuum was only getting murkier. Welcome to Daylight Savings (the concept; I know we are currently "out" of it but aren't we perpetually stuck in it in some manner?).

After a summer of retreats, work, and recovery, and an autumn of work, illness, and injury, all of which kept me away from the endless mountain dirt roads where I'd rather be found, I frantically ran into the woods for a last ditch effort to train for the Komoot Women's Arizona Rally. My sweetie, Alex, and I had a date night on the books that had already been rescheduled. I felt the crunch. I also felt the twitch in my muscles to get out and move during this gloriously brisk fall afternoon. I left the house late due to home obligations and the butterfly effect of a man named Bob missing a turn on a fire road 50 miles away. I was determined to finish the mapped route. I always have an excuse to reroute, turn around, take a shortcut. Not this time, date night be damned.

At Holloman Saddle, I followed a friend’s route for a quick descent back to town via Pattee Canyon, but my GPSs (yes, plural) glitched at a fork and I found myself on Miller Divide. Having checked my Garmin Edge a few times before it restarted itself, I knew I wasn't supposed to be on this road. The sun was setting. Amidst the web of roads that all disappeared around a bend after a few feet, I didn't know where else to ride besides what the glowing little machine suggested, which was ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ . The road dipped into a steep descent, then single track and hiking trails, with no easy way to get in or out. My lights tilted down whenever I hit a bump. On a rocky trail, this was every half-second. Though I had been planning on being home around sunset, I brought two headlights (to thine own self, be somewhat self-aware). I called Alex to ask for help and while on the phone, one of my lights died. The bright one. I didn't say I brought the charged lights.

The easiest way for Alex to meet me, based on his perspective of my location, was by taking a couple short roads that were clearly marked on his mapping tool. Only, they didn't exist. They were dreams of roads. It's OK, we all have them. These roads were the websites for the businesses that haven't yet launched, published because...who would find them anyway, in this vast network? Who would be foolish enough to be wandering around this neck of the woods? My other option being ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ , I got to hiking. A couple miles of downed trees and stumps on the side of the mountain with my Fargo was a good pre-Rally bonding experience, anyway. I didn't think to bring bear spray because I wasn't supposed to be in bear territory. A foolish, foolish lack of reasoning that had me talking to myself, to the bears, to my bike, to the podcast hosts who were doing an OK job at making it sound like there were a few people in my loud and stumbling group. Every few minutes I turned around and flashed my light into the forest around me, as if seeing a bear before it attacked me would be any better than being jumped.

My numb toes got their feeling back but I got sharp nerve tingles in my hands. My period spontaneously started two weeks early — something that has happened two other times, both while under physical and mental duress but feeling "totally cool and unbothered." It's fascinating what the body does in reaction to its surroundings. Not just our raised shoulders or furrowed brows when we're stressed, but the release and acceptance as well.

I stepped over large trees, paused to hurl my beast of a bike, swore as I cut my leg on a stick or chainring. Rested. Continued. It was slow, meditative work. I wasn't demure, I was debatably not in my lane (or any lane). I was both hydrated and dehydrated. Alarmingly, I wasn't too stressed. I was annoyed, frustrated, tired. I felt acceptance, in control, and secure; I think that is the ultimate preparation for a trip like the Komoot Women's Arizona Rally.

As I made my way down the sketchy side of the mountain, I heard Alex’s cheerful “HEY BEER!” As he hoofed it in the other direction to meet me.

Among the felled trees, innumerous stars, and silent animals, his headlight finally appeared. He gave me a strong hug, bear spray, and water, offered snacks, and took my bike from me to carry the rest of the way. He was out of breath because he all but ran up the mountain to meet me. "So you wouldn’t feel so alone in the woods," he said.

Back in the truck, he had Chex Mix, candy, pepino-limón gatorlyte, and blankets. A romantic meal if ever I had one. Reservations were canceled for the evening. We ate tater tots in bed around midnight and watched a Ted Lasso rerun instead.

The end of the road (literally)

Love appears in many forms. It can be the dedication to making sure an anxious, elderly pet isn't left home alone too long regardless of circumstances, or it can be in the support for our loved ones to pursue their interests and spend time with friends. It can also mean running up a mountain to literally save your life and make you feel less alone in the world.We've rushed pretty fast from Pedal & Prosody to this adventure to the Women's Rally and now suddenly we are almost at Thanksgiving. In the past I haven't been a big fan of the holiday. It's origins are dubious, the amount of food and food waste is hard to stomach, and those poor turkeys. Plus, I'm just not a fan of the meal's flavor palate. But we all know that it's not really about that. Eat what you want, just make sure you find someone, or something, you appreciate and take a moment to really feel that gratitude. Think of all the ways this person, or whatever you're grateful for, has made your light shine better. Then take a moment and let them know.