Highs and Lows & the Physical Trek vs. the Internal Trek

(This was written on August 4)

Funny how the mind works. I was high as a kite after yesterday’s memorable ride, climbing for 20 miles and crossing the western continental divide and then Togwotee Pass (9,650 feet). The descent was pure heaven, and then I was blessed by an amazing tail wind all the way to Dubois, Wyoming (pronounced, Do-Boys).

But today, after a great start, became a suffer fest. I covered 41 miles fairly rapidly thanks to the descending terrain and a favorable wind. But right after lunch, the winds started shifting, and at mile 51, they blew directly in my face. A mile later, I flatted; for the third consecutive time it was a puncture right by the stem on the rim side.

That amazing feeling from yesterday? Because of today’s events, it’s almost as if it had happened years ago. I tried to recall the elation I felt and it was like bringing up a memory of a distant vacation when you’ve been back at work for a year.

But I will recall the day. The climb up to Togwotee was not as brutal as Teton Pass, but it was long. There were ramps of 7% but they didn’t last for long, and at times the road leveled off and on several occasions, gifted me with short downhills. And the alpine landscape was stunning – pinkish-red lupine flowers bordering deep green meadows with broad-shouldered peaks in the distance.  

I ate my lunch at Togwotee Pass, which, in hindsight, wasn’t such a good idea, because the wind was blowing and it was a cool 62 degrees at the summit, so I got chilled form the sweat that had covered my body from the climb’s effort. The descent was a little stressful… long, straight ramps at 8%, but there were few cars and, for most of the downhill, I had the road to myself. Eleven miles after the summit, I felt weak, the result of the chill at the summit, reinforced by reaching speeds up to 37 mph in the cool air on the descent. I stopped to eat and warm up, and see how I would do with the remaining 19 miles to Dubois. At first, I felt a little uneasy, but the tailwind made the pedaling easy, and I quickly recovered. After a few miles I realized that the tailwind was like mana from the heavens; I was maintaining a 22 mph pace. At a certain point, I saw a sign that said, “Road Work – Next 7 Miles” and then hit a stretch of freshly laid blacktop which made the rolling “like butter.” As I sped down the hills towards Dubois, I asked myself “who could ask for anything better than this?”, which reminded me of the famous Gershwin song, “I’ve Got Rhythm.” In my head, I rewrote the song’s refrain:

I’ve got downhill
I’ve got fresh blacktop
I’ve got tailwind
Who could ask for anything more?

I arrived in Dubois in a state of bliss.

But then I had a rough night with dark thoughts and fears bouncing around my head. Some of the concerns relate to Devin; others relate to the tiresome logistical tasks of running the tour; mainly, operating the Camper Van infrastructure, which is ceaseless. Such is the tradeoff of having Joanie with me and not having to carry my gear up those steep passes. But once I am pedaling down the road, all those thoughts dissipate and I become very focused on body, pace, traffic, the sounds of the bicycle, and the world I am passing through.

US Highway 26 from Dubois to the southeast runs through the Wind River valley, and the scenery is stunning. The road crosses the Wind River multiple times, and each crossing reveals a loud, clear, narrow and strong-flowing river. But then the route passes through the Wind River Tribe reservation, and, as I noticed when we traveled through Montana on the way out here, the Indian reservations are on more arid soil. The landscape became less verdant, and soon I was moving through brown, almost featureless hills.

At this point, the darker thoughts surfaced once again, and I realized that I am actually on two journeys – the physical trek and the internal trek. The physical trek is that which consumes my conscious mind – the logistics of preparing for the daily ride (food, electronics, bicycle, sunscreen) and the day’s ride itself. But the internal trek happens at the subconscious level, and it is my quiet companion, always present, always filling the empty spaces. I’ve been so engaged with the physical trek that I haven’t paid too much attention to the internal trek. But today, on a difficult day, with the physical trek past the 1/3 mark, I began to pay more attention to the internal trek. And if it were an easier day I probably would have done more of the internal work as I pedaled down the road. However, the flat tire and the relentless headwind for the last 26 miles, which required all my willpower just to make it to Riverton, did not leave any mental space to address the internal trek.

The physical trek is yang, the goal-oriented, masculine-energy journey. The internal trek is yin, the soft, dark and feminine-energy journey. I still have about 2,200 miles until I reach the Atlantic Ocean. Plenty of time to walk the soft, dark paths of the internal trek.