Unfinished stories and upcoming torture.

I finished my bike trip on a date that eludes me, on the George Washington Bridge surrounded by teammates. The next day I was so weak I couldn't get out of bed and ended up in the ER a few days after. After receiving a mighty fine bill for 2 tylenol and 30 minutes of "rest" in the hospital I went home, rested, and started working soon after. The 70 hour work weeks became the norm the past three months, and now I'm a bit apprehensive to leave again to go walk in the woods.

I often wondered why so many people never finish their blogs nor go on any other adventures ever again. I think that part of the reason is that it's a thousand times more difficult to leave again after settling down then it is to do it for the first time. I'm scared. I don't say that often, but I'm scared of being miserable out on the hike. I'm scared of the rain, the cold, the nagging thoughts on food and a dwindling budget. I'm scared of myself, I'm scared of being lonely. I'm not scared of bears though.

I don't need to go and prove anything to anyone anymore. I never did, except maybe to myself. In a way the whole 8 months I spent riding a fucking bicycle around the country seem like a waste of time. People often ask me "Oh! it must have been so wonderful! What was your favorite part?" I don't know what to say. I got up and biked. I then biked the next day, and the next day. Over time I biked around the country. I saw things; I met people. It was great. Hooray.

Maybe I'm just down on life, maybe it's something else. I'm sick of the city and I'm sick of the uncertain. Life on the road is over-romanticized. It's nothing but torture and pain day in and day out.

I'm having a bad day.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

(: