Went on another bike-camping journey, this time with friends -- some old, some new. It was weird... in terms of adapting to an American lifestyle, and more specifically a Pacific Northwest lifestyle, it was weird. For one, there was the continuous discussion about our possessions. Bikes, sleeping pads, tents, cooking stoves. I tried to tune it out, but I couldn't, and I couldn't help my judgement and categorization of all these topics as materialistic. Mitch, of course, played devil's advocate and argued that our friends were simply excited about bike-camping together for the first time. Of course we're going to discuss these things -- he argued -- but next time, it won't even come up.
I think I lost it when everybody started talking about my Indonesian bicycle, the Batcycle. According to Mitch, the reason I wasn't going as fast as everybody else and struggled up hills was because my bike is not fit for the hills of the Pacific NW. He kept pointing out that his gears go quite low, so while I struggle on my lowest gear, he still has two more to go. Another couple instead argued that the problem is that my bike is too big, and that I should really look into getting one the proper size. Soon everybody was discussing what I should do, and I finally said in frustration, "Okay, can we please stop talking about my bike? I don't think it's too big" ... as if it everything was an attack on something I held dear. And I wanted to add, who cares if I don't go as fast as you guys, who cares if I struggle up hills. I'm still doing it all, and I'm doing it for about 1/4 the cost that you guys paid.
I know I shouldn't take it so personally, but when we start talking about how my stuff isn't good enough, it kind of hurts. Talk all you want about your things, but leave my stuff out of it. I never asked for your advice, and I can't afford to buy a $2000 bike at the moment. I'm funemployed.
Another thing, too, is that the whole experience was humbling. This weekend I chased two ferries, and as I was chasing, I struggled... a lot. My friends blew past me on their bikes, and although Mitch stuck by my side, my eyes welled up with tears every time I went up a hill and felt I was holding everybody behind. At one point I even lashed out at Mitch, saying that I would never do this ever again. That I would never bike with friends again.
I'm still trying to come to terms with how upset I got. When I climbed up Merapi and everybody blew past me, I didn't get upset, I just did it. That, too, was humbling, especially when I realized I couldn't make it to the true summit like all the others.
But why did I get mad and upset this time? Was it because somebody close to me was right by my side and I could vent to him, let him see my true frustrations? Or maybe I really did need a better bicycle?
I regret now being so hostile. It makes me sort of understand some of the couple struggles that Barbara and Larry went through in Miles from Nowhere: A Round the World Bicycle Adventure.
Total distance on bicycle this past weekend: 124 miles.
Total meditation time today: 19 minutes.
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