Why yes, that is a vacuum cleaner in my pannier.

Yesterday my friend said to me, "Are you ok then? I worry about you." 

It dawned on me that I've created this victim persona of myself with her. That identity does not give me comfort. I never dreamed my ex-husband would do the things he has done, but that is not me. I am not living the prescribed life that my family or former friends would like for me, but I am me. I am not a victim. I am not what has happened to me. 

Alertness set in on me early this morning, my whole body filled with inspiration. Yesterday's sickness and fever linger, and it is 26 degrees. I have to get in to the office to remove a mural I painted a few weeks back. My thoughts grappled with each other: drive or bike this morning? 

I remembered a movie, 180 deg South. I lusted after the responsibility-free life of these climbers. These guys did everything to climb, surf, and sail. They gave up the things I define as success on a hunt for a thrill. Hey self: slow down there, Judgy McJudgerstein. They aren't less than human any more than you are or anybody is. Hell, they have a movie. This is their path. What's yours?

"If you set out on a journey to affect some kind of physical to spiritual gate and you compromise the process along the way, and you’re an asshole when you start then you’ll be an asshole when you finish” ~180 deg South

This is how I find myself packing a vacuum cleaner into pannier bags and donning the ski gear intended for yesterday's non-trip to Wintergreen mountain. It isn't because a sickness happened to me, but because the backside of pain is experience. Experience is life, and life is beautiful.

In no particular order I present to you, dear Universe, my goals:

• Ride the divide from Banff to Fort Collins
• Lose sight of shore for long enough that it becomes a new normal
• Build a product and company that serves the greater good
• Raise up some childrens (ya'll)
• Keeping working a handstand until it breaks my bones

Bike packing attempt 1: chicken church to shakori. Total success.

Admittedly, I set out later than you should in summer. I wasn't worried. I don't mind heat and I had plenty of water.

Let's roll back a few months. I saw a picture of a road that simply ended with the caption "sink hole". I paid little attention because it was across a lake far from any of my regular routes.

EXCEPT THIS DAY, of course. On this day, I totally found the closed road due to sink hole.

I detoured around the steepest golf course around. On our first really hot day. It was the smallest lateral mileage, but clearly the most climb. I would have known this had apple kept up with the sink holes in america.

I got a little grouchy. A little tired. I called for a pick up.

The ride didn't come through, and I was still suffering. I took a minute. I sat down on the roadside and drank in steady breath and shade. I realized I was shivering and began connecting the dots. I sent a text to my heart spoken ninja who would figure it out from a distance if necessary - "Have heat stroke. GPS pin here."

When my symptoms abated enough, and I got back on the bike. Here began the suffering. It was a mile up the road and around the bend to the grocery story. I zombie'd myself into the store and bumped into the perfect person - a product guy holding a monstrous wedge of watermelon on a stick. The grocery stores here are so cool because they sell odd lawn furniture. In this case, there was a hammock. I laid down in the air conditioned hammock with a couple watermelon popsicles and waited for recovery to find me.

When I set back out, I had a record-breaking 5mph pace including rest. The spot in this picture was a swimming hole. I stopped for ice a few miles later before I saw the shot gun adorned sign "Enter at your own risk."

I slept in a hammock under stars this night after an amazing set of live music. Maybe bad things also happened on this adventure, but I choose to remember showering in a farm shower in the forest and waking up to cold-brewed coffee. Long live Shakori.