I can still see Mama Bear and she is still moving.
The Planner and I have stopped on the side of the road for a rest. We are climbing up from the Green River to the mesa above where we will still have some 10-15ish miles to get to our camp where water is stashed and we hope no one has taken our spot cuz there is nothing worse than having to look for a place to camp when you are completely hangry and blown.
We walk for a bit while Rocklicker comes pedaling past saying something about the secret is to go just a little slower but never stop. Yea, yea, whatever.
My gaze returns up the climb. Kenny and Mama Bear are still moving. Kenny is cranking on the singlespeed pedals and Mama Bear is standing pushing down on the cranks. Every time I look up I expect to see Kenny has passed her, but each time, she is still there cranking all the way till we can’t see her anymore.
After stretching our legs for a minute, we get back on and start pedaling. I feel like Harrison rolls up somewhere at this point and we all make our way to the top of this ridiculous climb which is just a comma for a day that started with sand, had a crazy hike-a-bike scramble, tons of mud to navigate and then this climb that was more a pause then a termination.
And we could probably end this whole thing with that. I started running because of this climb. Watching KB completely rip us apart on a loaded bike made it clear that the dynamic had shifted. Not that I was ever fast, or really ever any faster than her, we just were more closely matched.
It was more than obvious that something had changed.
Fast forward a few weeks. The giant spaces of the Eastern Utah desert have been replaced by four walls and a computer screen. The task sitting in front of me is by no means difficult, simply recording info from one report to return to later to analyze progress or the lack thereof. It’s something I do almost daily.
My hand is poised over the mouse, but my vision is blurred and making my fingers move to do anything seems like a monumental task. Much more difficult than that climb described above. I try to force myself to focus. The reality settles in. I’m sitting in my chair and I have zero desire to do anything, no way I can move that mouse, type those numbers or even just continue to breath.
There is nothing physically wrong with me. My brain just doesn’t want to work. It’s done. And I don’t mean done like I just got done with something hard and I need to rest. No, it keeps circling back to the great end, the last big adventure, death. In reality, in the moment dying seems like too much work. I can’t even move my hand to make the mouse do things on a screen, the epitome of easy and somehow my brain wants even less.
I muster through. The only thing really keeping me going is knowing that I have a big reset coming up, but even dreaming of riding around Baja seems like too much work.
As expected, Baja is a complete reset for me. The mental dread disappears pretty much the moment we start pedaling. The physical pain draws me out of the mental space and forces me to just be. For ten days, we wander around the peninsula in what I can only describe as bliss.
One of the many shitty things about dealing with depression on a regular basis is when you are feeling awesome, there is this little voice in your head that tells you it’s not going to last. You need to get ready for what’s about to come. This voice starts to pop up toward the end of our trip. I know Post Epic Adventure Depression is almost guaranteed once I return to “normal” life.
I figure there are two possible reasons for the reprieve in my mental anguish. 1. Vacations work. This reason is great but isn’t sustainable. 2. The fact that I have been riding my bike about 40 miles every day has kept the cobwebs from building up and has reset the chemistry in my head. I tuck these thoughts away and try to ignore the voice in the dark corner of my brain telling me I shouldn’t enjoy Baja because what comes when I get home will really suck.
Leading up to Baja, the pressure was building from every side. The Planner has taken up fast foot sporting and Mama Bear won’t leave it alone that she dropped me on that climb and that I should take up running every morning so I can get in better shape. The fateful moment, Shelby explaining that he started running so he could do big mountain runs. Take half a day and see 20 miles of Pine Valley or the Tushars quickly and without the need for packing a whole bunch of stuff. That hit a note for me. My passion is backcountry travel. Everything that I do fits into that. I love biking but if a bike can’t take me there, I’ll gladly walk, run or packraft or pretty much whatever to make it happen. Just get me out of cell service.
Somewhere in this space leading up to the end of 2018, after constant prodding, I half-heartedly tell KB that I will try running once we get back from Baja.
January 5th, 2019 and I make good on that commitment running a short 2 flat miles around the Black Hill. Did I enjoy it? Sure. I must have as I then ran again the next day which just about killed me. The next few weeks were punctuated by a couple of runs mixed in with anything else I might have been doing. It certainly wasn’t love at first sight. It hurt. My body did not like the jarring or the consistent high heart rate, but what I did like is that it cleared out the Post Epic Adventure Depression. Sure, I felt down for the few days leading up to that first run, but once I hit the ground the cobwebs were cleared. I could hit the reset button with a quick 30-minute jog around the Red Hill or feel accomplished by running what was a slog at the time, Padre Canyon.
I love running. And not in the I hate love running way of loving it. I genuinely enjoy the simplicity, the consistency and the effort of doing it. I love it from the moment my legs start moving till I’m done and the feeling of accomplishment that goes along with finishing it. I love waking up early and doing something that most hate before they are even out of bed. Getting up, smashing some coffee and then running over Pine Valley Mountain before going to work. There is no part of it that I don’t love.
Setting aside the love affair I’ve engaged in though, I must admit that the reset is the why. Any time I slack off and that voice in the back of my head starts to get louder, I know what I need, a quick run. An hour of meditation in motion that focuses my psyche and forces me to deal with whatever is there. Sometimes it takes two runs, but it clears it out, resets my brain and keeps me feeling alive and well. I honestly can’t imagine my life without it.
I step out the back door to realize it’s raining. My dog is going nuts, it’s kind of his thing. I asses the situation and quickly grab a rain jacket. The simplicity of this endeavor hits home. I clip Jax into his leash and head out into the drizzle. The rubber bands in my legs moan for a few steps, then warm and soon are stoked to be moving. The corridors of my brain feel clogged but are quickly purged of the debris like water pushing through slot canyons. Once my heart is up to speed, everything that is bothering me becomes clear. And more importantly the way through, around or over said obstacles is vividly transparent.
An hour later and I’m back at that door with a giant grin on my face. With my and the world’s problems solved, I feel prepared to go into battle. Or just face a regular day as an adult. There is no better way to start your day.
#itsalwaysworthit
