There is no clear cut beginning to this excursion…

 

Yes, I suppose one could literally delineate the starting line in St. Augustine, Florida at the corner of King and Rd 287, draw a chalk line and line up my tire and my life to the Start; But so few things in this world can be so clearly outlined and cut into clear beginnings and endings, distances and destinations.

 

Sometimes the journey itself changes the nature of the destination or even the original position of the starting line.  The true beginnings of this journey can be linked to that first instant that envisioned the trip.  Can I tell you precisely when that vision occurred?  I cannot make my life like that formulaic movie where the cause of events can be summed up in one simple flashback or memory.  It grew inside me, collecting form and shape from a thousand experiences around me.  I vaguely remember the idea drifting through my adrenalized consciousness somewhere during that initial discovery year of ‘let’s see how far I can ride’.

 

Every once in a while the thoughts of the ‘ultimate’ ride would intrude into my life and small prototypes of the concept would manifest, such as me and Charles’ ride around Oahu. (One of the most beautiful experiences of my life, by the way… turquoise waters on my right, emerald tropics on my left, and me riding the tightrope between the two.  I will never forget.)

 

That Oahu expedition in itself became a journey of magnitude and, I guess, a manifestation of the rugged, individualistic spirit residing in most of us.  This cycling journey is, again, a resurrection of that spirit.  Perhaps not resurrection, that would presume death.  Let’s say ‘resurgence’.  Yes, and that word ‘surge’ imbedded there says so much about my soul during these erratic months building up to this excursion.

 

There is no starting line, I’m beginning to realize.  Somewhere inside me is that yearning spirit of exploration and discovery as an individual.  On one’s own terms, under one’s own will.  This spirit was born in me the instant I entered this world, opened my eyes and reached out to that first blurry, colorful object.  This spirit grew as I crawled to the other side of the room, as I walked my first steps down the hall, as I ran out the door into the yard.  The spirit strengthened as I cycled for the first time to the corner Shortstop, as I cycled for the first time across the valley, as I ran for the first time the Bay to Breakers, as I rode around the island of Oahu.

 

The starting line is the breadth of my life up to this moment.  The finish line is always somewhere out there ahead of me.  I say I will finish at the Pacific, but truth be told, I know that to be just the illusory line I set for my self periodically just to keep things within my limited human perception.  In the greater consciousness, within the great over spirit or over-soul, this ride across America is just another leg of my life’s journey.

 

My life’s journey must be like running water, never ceasing and always pure and clear, melding and moving with the landscape, continuing until its eventual dissolution into the lake or the greater sea, there to go through its own cycle again.

 

The journey must be to ride on;  if I stop, the water will stagnate and run dark with filth, so I will ride on and not stop, always clear and pure in my perception and my nature.

 

I cannot stop.  Where is the finish line?

 

Who cares.  I am riding clear and pure.

 

-GE