150 miles

I had mixed feelings about getting on my bike this morning. On one hand, I wanted nothing more than to get on my way and start ticking off the miles once again. I want nothing to do with Queretaro, Mexico City, or Puebla. I want to get out of this corridor and on to the nicer roads. On the flipside, I was worried about the busy roads, how my bike was going to hold up, and how my mind was going to handle getting back on the bike. Instead of starting at 3 AM as has been my routine in the first three days of my time spent in Mexico, I decided to sleep in a little bit and wait until the sun came up before riding. I’m already pushing my luck on these roads, there is no reason to add an extra level of danger by riding in the rain in the dark. As I looked out my hotel window and watched the rain stream down the window pane, I couldn’t help but feel a certain level of worry about riding out of Queretaro in these conditions. I’ve realized that while I, of course, fear getting hit by a car, my real anxiety comes from the impact that would have on the people who are close to me. Obviously, I don’t want to get run over, but it’s not something I usually think about. Historically it’s just been an acceptable risk. Now that that risk seems a little bit more real, a lot of my anxiety comes from knowing that if anything were to happen to me, I would leave a wake of hurt in the absence of my path. It’s not like the world revolves around me, but I do know that certain people would miss me and that alone is enough to make me adverse to the idea of getting hit. That’s actually something I’ve been working on a lot the past year. Understanding the impact my risky behaviors and actions have on others from an emotional standpoint. Particularly freshman year of college, I had a new level of freedom and it felt like no one was really there to watch me so I didn’t really think about how my weekend escapades might be affecting others. I would go off on solo backcountry skiing tours on Mount Washington, all by myself for days on end, I would hitchhike all around the state, I would do things that came off as reckless, things that I was perfectly fine with doing. I knew the risks associated with everything I was doing and was fine with the calculus on my risk taking. But my actions certainly impacted others. My new friends would worry about me when I was gone, and I didn’t really realize this burden that I was placing on others through my own actions. To an extent, I believe in the argument that each person is entitled to their individual freedoms and what one person does or does not do in their free time shouldn’t be judged against it’s impact on other people in a strictly emotional sense. If somebody wants to go out and do something risky on their own time, then that is an individual choice and as long as they are not actively physically hurting another person. An individual should have free will to do risky things. If other people were worrying on my behalf, that wasn’t necessarily my fault. But that is a very selfish and insular approach. In reality, relationships don’t usually work like that. I think there are exceptions. You see it in the mountaineering community more than anywhere else. The acceptance of the idea that what the community does is inherently dangerous. People die all the time and the sport keeps going. But in general, in day-to-day life this isn’t how things work. So, for the past year, I’ve really been working on acknowledging how my actions can carry an emotional toll on other people, even if I don’t realize it. So a lot of my anxiety about getting hit certainly comes from this realization.

By the time I hit the road it had been light out for about 30 minutes and the drizzle had reduced to a light mist. My hotel was right on the main road so I didn’t have much of a warm-up. I was incredibly excited to be on the bike again. Through all the hard times, riding is still what drives me, what makes me happy. At times when I can’t bike I truly appreciate how much I need my bike in my life. Yesterday it was torturous not to be able to ride. This situation reminds me of a trip I went on in the spring. I was trying to bike around Lake Ontario from New Hampshire over the weekend. I set off and became violently ill. For two days straight, I vomited everything I ate. I was lightheaded, I couldn’t sleep at night, I had a headwind, it was hot, it was absolutely miserable. The whole time I was cursing myself and my bike. I wanted nothing to do with it. I just wanted to be home. I was stuck over 600 miles away from campus just having the worst trip of my life. Then, my bike got stolen in Kingston, Ontario and as soon as I realized I couldn’t bike anymore I was absolutely crushed. I had gotten my wish to not be able to bike, and now I was regretting it. Yesterday wasn’t quite the same, I look forward to riding every single day on this trip. But yesterday did contextualize how much passion and joy I still have for the ability to ride every single day. As much as that may suck sometimes, it would be way worse if I weren’t out here.

I immediately jumped onto the limited access highway. I had very little confidence. I was worried that as soon as the first semi buzzed me, my anxiety would take grip again. I decided just to fake confidence and perhaps I could trick myself into believing that I had real confidence. The traffic was only moving at about 35 miles an hour, so I was able to catch drafts and go with the flow. There is safety in speed. I knew I needed to be both offensive and defensive. The drivers here are incredibly aggressive and offensive. I couldn’t let these drivers walk all over me. At the same time, I don’t have much power as a little cyclist. The first time I ever drove on the road when I was 15 I remember my dad told me, “every time you get behind the wheel, you’re putting your hands on a loaded gun.” Cars have an inherent risk both to the driver and others on the road. When I’m on a bike, I don’t weild that same power. I obviously can’t really do much to a semi in a collision. On the bike, instead of having a loaded gun, I kind of just have an airsoft gun that’s out of ammo. But if you take the orange tip off an airsoft gun and paint it black, nobody can tell the difference between the airsoft gun and the real thing. So that’s what I did. I rode with the confidence—perhaps even too much confidence—needed to tackle the traffic at hand. There was no shoulder, so I took the lane. Instead of riding in the very right section of the lane, I took the entire lane so that other cars couldn’t get right up next to me. When I ride on the very edge of the lane cars will be inclined to pass in the same lane, or they’ll have the space to come next to me and run me off the road. By taking the whole lane cars had no chance to go all the way around a separate lane. This strategy only works if I am traveling at a similar speed as the rest of the traffic. On the busy highways in between towns when semis are going 80 miles an hour the strategy will not work. I would just get flattened. But getting out of Queretaro was a little bit different because there was enough traffic, things were moving slowly. I was waving my hands and letting my presence be known. I was like a little dog with a big attitude. After about five minutes of my charades, I started to develop real confidence. Drivers buzzed me I started to yell at them. I made my anger well-known and soon driver started taking notice. I was given a wider birth and it felt much safer to be riding so aggressively. On two separate occasions, a car tried to come into my lane and get right up next to me. Each time I smacked the side of the car and they backed off. Soon I exhausted my vocabulary Spanish curse words, and I started from the beginning and worked my way back down the list. I was playing bully ball. I was dishing it tight back out, and the drivers respected that. I must’ve been quite a slight. A little gringo riding through this town of 3 million people hopping mad at all the drivers around him. Stupid as I may have looked, it got the job done. I stayed safe and I restored my self confidence. I had a 600 vertical foot climb out of Queretaro on this five lane highway. On the uphills I lost all my power to negotiate with the cars. I was going too slow. It felt scary again, but I locked in and wouldn’t let the intrusive thoughts gain any purchase in my mind. I got to the top of the climb and once again got back up to speed. The highway was no longer limited access, but there were still on an off ramps. Now there were also parking lots that just spilled out into the interstate creating incredibly hectic traffic. I dawned my iron mask again got back to barking at all the cars around me. Soon I was out of Queretaro and back onto a three lane highway with almost exclusively semis hauling along at high speeds. Thankfully, I had a shoulder. I was out of Queretaro State and the roads were much nicer for me. There was even more traffic than there had been on the other side of Quartaro, but now with the shoulder, it didn’t matter as much. The rain came back in spurts throughout the day. All morning I climbed and before I knew it I was at 8,800 feet. I was no longer in the arid desert. It was not a true forest but there were now trees and abundant greenery all around. For the first time this trip, I began to feel the elevation a little bit. It wasn’t bad, but I definitely felt myself a little bit more out of breath on the steep climbs. I figured there would be a decent amount of climbing between Queretaro and Cordoba since I’m going through a very large mountain range, but I wasn’t really sure what to expect. At almost 9000 feet I was in the clouds and the rain was quite cold. I’ve always thought of Mexico City as a ho dry desert, but I’ve been mistaken. This is the rainiest month of the year, but every single day it rains.

I managed to stay content all day, even though the riding conditions were objectively miserable. I had a shoulder now, but the roads were still heavily congested, and my shoulder was not smooth or clear of debris. All afternoon I had a 15 mile an hour headwind with 55° driving rain. I stopped for lunch at a taco stand and gas station. Believe it or not, these were my first tacos of this trip in Mexico. I had zero clue what any of the food was, so I just asked the lady to surprise me with four of her favorite tacos. I thoroughly enjoyed them. I believe two of them were pork, one was some type of stewed chicken, and one was what I believe to be pork skin, although I really have no clue what it was. It was my least favorite of the four. There were a lot of dogs around and I drew an audience while I ate. Each taco came with an extra corn tortilla underneath which I did not end up needing. I shared my tortillas with a couple of dogs so of course I immediately had some homies. These are some of the nicest stray dogs I’ve ever seen. They laid at my feet and begged me to pet them. They even tried to give me a bunch of kisses. I’ll never forget when I was in Peru at a street market and let a stray dog lick me then watched him go and eat poop and part of a rotten cow head off the street. I’m always a little apprehensive to let the strays lick me. Other people in the parking lot looked on on bewilderment at the fact that I was petting the dogs. Stupid gringo. The thing you’re always told is do not pet the dogs on the street. I have no regrets, these pups were awesome. All afternoon I just put my head down and rode. I was in fog for most of it, so there wasn’t much to see. There were some big climbs, but also long flat valleys. I had thought about camping, but I was covered in mud and very cold from the rain so a hotel was the correct decision. I rode until dark and then found a hotel for myself. It was called Hotel Avion. As its name suggests, the hotel was airplane themed. However, I kind of lost track of the theme in my room. It looked like quite a fever dream. A botched Warholian vision. Although my room might’ve been a little eclectic, I actually thought it was funny and a bed is a bed. I slept quite well.

Hoping for a bigger day tomorrow. I want to get back into the 200s and settle into a rhythm until Panama.