Location: Athens, GA
Ride: here
When you aim your plane straight up into the air and give it full gas, you're just asking for a sputtering and a stall to occur. And I stalled and began a lead zeppelin descent since Saturday's ride. Big ride up Mount Mitchell. Move. Big ride at the Gran Fondo. Then Athens, GA. New city with no plan, I know no one, and it was motherfucking cold.I questioned if coming to Athens (with the intent of staying put for an entire month) wasn't too hasty, given that my most cherished moments of last Exodus were flying into a new town, marking my spot, and then hauling ass again into the unknown. I was also feeling quite blue, as I am inclined to feel when it is chilly. So that wasn't something I was unsettled by.
It's just that my umphh was kaput. I talked to some friends for support, I had some good eats, and I wandered but I could not grasp onto anything, or to anyone. What I'm after, amongst the list of things that I seek, is new connections, and that had yet to occur in the same quick and easy fashion it did last year.
That was my mistake; I was comparing everything to last year. I was experiencing what I call the "Pina Colada Effect." This is another self-grift, during which we con ourselves into thinking that a Pina Colada will taste the same at our hometown bar in the middle of winter as it did on the first day of vacation, just soaking up the sun poolside, feeling it melt away.
Simply put; it's the mistaken belief that you can recreate a moment.
You can't, because a great moment is designed to be a moment. They are memorable because they are unique and not duplicatable. If you try, you will fail, and you will end up the asshole in December apologizing your way around a maraschino cherry for even trying.
I knew, from experience, that if I waited and kept my priorities straight, something would come along to help me turn the corner. So when Phil, in whose basement I am staying in Athens, invited me on a ride, I was hoping that was the corner.
Phil Gaimon, and his basement, came into this story through a strange matrix of events. Last year I was in Monroe, LA and I downloaded a ride from Strava.
It started in a neighborhood and so I drove there, parked, and put a note on my car; "Found your ride on Strava. Hope its not a problem to park here." I left my cell phone number and rode off.
Phil wins in Redlands, 2012. Clear glasses=you're fucked. |
So I am here because of the ride I picked on Strava on that day. I love to think of that. The sheer magnitude and simplicity of that is dizzying. Most people will say "oh, cool" but when you have a strong appreciation for the butterfly effect, it's difficult to be so casual.
The ride was double wide the whole time, and we chatted through most of it. Once out of the heavy (and yet incredibly gracious, and incredibly patient) traffic of Athens, there is barely a car to be had. And when there is, they go entirely into the other lane to pass you. I noticed this last year, that Georgia had the most bike-friendly drivers, and it's still true.
We went for a ride again today, and it was above 70 degrees, so I'm warming up emotionally and physically to the idea of an extended time here.
Of course I could also steal away in the middle of the night, never to be heard from again. Just the fact that I have that as an option is thrilling.
New moments are just casually waiting for me to find them.