Friday, December 3, 2010

And yet, and yet . . . two months later

The nights that followed the decision to quit the bike tour left me in a state of raw panic. Lying awake in bed, stating at the dark ceiling, I felt the same anxiety I felt when making the decision to quit my job and undertake this adventure in the first place. It had been my entire life since June, and I was afraid whatever may lie ahead. We had already mailed our tent and panniers back to Columbus, but I know that if we hadn’t, we would have jumped back on our bikes and continued on.

We spent four days in San Francisco with Eric, a long-ago-lost college friend of mine. We hit every tourist destination possible – the Golden Gate Bridge, Yosemite, Muir Woods and Golden Gate Park to name a few. From San Fran, we shipped our bikes back to Columbus and we hopped a plane to St. Louis. We spent four days with my parents in Illinois and four days with Melissa’s mom in northeast Ohio.

The whole time, I was itching to be back in Columbus. During the final days of the bike tour, I had romanticized Columbus. I missed my old routine and job, the quite country roads surrounding Alum Creek that were perfect for bike rides, the solitude of a long swim at Ohio State, the comfort of our old apartment.

It was twilight as we approached Columbus, the downtown buildings rising out of the pinkish purple sky in front of us. For reasons unknown, my heart beat a little faster and I found it a little hard to swallow. I felt indifferent for the city that I was so yearning to get back to. Suddenly the bike tour felt like a distant memory, something I had done in my childhood – memories muffled and fuzzy in my head. I felt like I was suddenly being snapped out of a marvelous and breathtaking dream.

“It’s back to the real world,” I muttered.

Everything in Columbus is the same as we had left it, except for a bike lane that has been added to High Street. Temporarily, we are staying with Melissa’s sister and her boyfriend, in a two-bedroom apartment, two blocks down the road from our old apartment on Hamlet Street. Oddly, there is a vacancy in that building, as if it was awaiting our return.

We’ve been filling our days by searching for jobs, which is both intimidating and exhilarating. The whole country is wide open to us. We’re applying for jobs in Columbus. And we are applying for jobs in other states, time zones away. A major intention of ours had been to leave Columbus for good, and move to a city surrounded by mountains, close to the ocean, were bike commuting is the norm and people share our values in life. But we need a home base, and for right now, Columbus will do. If we end up staying here in the long run, I’m okay with it. And if we move to Portland or San Diego or Denver or some place completely new, I’m okay with that too.

It’s cold here, winter weather threatening, just around the corner-- a pretense of what’s to come. Our first days in Kentucky, baking in the harsh and unforgiving summer sun, seem too distant a memory to even think about. Our friend Aidan, who we met on the bike tour, who has been on his bike for over two years, is only days away from Mexico. I look at his photos on facebook longingly. I hate the old adage, The grass is always greener . . . but it seems to always hold true.

Brooke
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Final images from our bike tour:
Boxing the bikes up for our 15 hour Amtrak ride to San Francisco.
The Golden Gate Bridge

Napa Valley

Napa Valley

Yosemite


Yosemite