I’m going to wear this chair out. I’ve spent more time in it staring at a computer screen wondering if it will eventually go away, this desire to do nothing, to sit in the house instead of being outside, to not want to do anything other than eat carbs and wonder if anything will ever sound like fun again, or at least worth doing again.
It all started the moment we returned from Idaho. We were both tired, trashed, dirty. We had a car full of gear and we hadn’t sat still for close to two weeks. During our trip, cell service was shoddy at best meaning there were no distractions. We only had to ride, eat, sleep and repeat. Easy, even if it was super difficult, it was uncomplicated in a way that is intensely liberating. There wasn’t a lot of time to think about what would be done when we got home, but I had big expectations for myself. I was accomplishing one of my big goals for the year and it was only July.
The never ending cycle of loading and loading, became unloaded. We left the giant pile in the middle of our home office, took a shower and laid down whilst sipping on a couple of beers. A couple hours later, we were on our way to dinner, followed by adventure sharing via the pictures located on my phone and a big screen tv. Maybe it’s my inability to convey verbally the intensity of our trip, but every time I’ve been asked about it, all I can muster is, “It was ok.”
And if it was just ok, how dumb are the “normal” things we do every week? Why would I want to ride my bike when I could just sit in this chair? Both are just ok? Right? At least this chair doesn’t make my but hurt after hours in its perch. Actually, it’s pretty comfy. I think I’ll take another nap.
I feel like I’ve been perpetually taking naps.
I’ve dubbed this type of depression Post Epic Adventure Disorder. It hasn’t been officially accepted by the American Psychiatric Association, but that’s probably just cause it’s not a real thing. It is characterized by the following:
- Absolute lack of desire to do anything one would normally consider fun.
- Finding a chair and sitting in it for hours.
- Ignoring invitations to do fun things, because, meh, it wouldn’t be that much fun anyway.
- Over indulgence in things that make you cozy, like alcohol, sleeping and the above mentioned sitting.
- Creating a scale that measures all activities in comparison to the Epic Adventure you just experience, and then not doing any of them because, meh.
Leading up to our Idaho trip, all I wanted to do was ride. I enjoyed any kind of pedaling whether it was pavement, gravel or singletrack. And that’s most of what we were doing in preparation. You couldn’t get me to sit in the house and look at my computer screen if there was something else I could be doing. Unless the computer screen was displaying photos, track information, trail beta or other things related to the upcoming Tourdaho.
I think my excitement glands might just be worn out.
Luckily, I think I have found a cure. It was at 9:12 Thursday evening. KB was asleep. We had packed for our trip to SLC. I sat down in my chair and somehow ended up on the Baja Divide website (and by somehow, I mean I typed in Baja Divide and went there). I went there because it felt like something I should figure out if we are to do a section this winter.
Soon I was hyper focused in on this section, the Cape Loop. 255 miles of off-road Baja epicness that finally returned the stoke I had felt a couple months ago. I figured out air travel, got the gpx download, started stocking the interwebs for beta on camping, travel and what the road conditions are. The next thing I knew an hour and a half had passed and I needed to go to bed but I didn’t want to. My stoke was high again. I was cured.
If you are experiencing any P. E. A. D. symptoms, the cure is 1 hour of future trip planning per day until symptoms subside.
P. L. and R.
