Day 73 Update: Comodora Rivadavia to Tres Cerros
I’m stupid. I really am. I’m stupid for comporting myself in this fashion. The way I’m riding right now, the way I am working through these days, it’s ridiculous. I’m stupid for how I’m riding, for how I’m according myself. I need to snap out of this. I need to put my head down, to keep riding because I’m embarrassing myself. I’m letting myself down. I’m cheating myself and all of my supporters. I don’t care what anybody else in the world thinks, the last month I have failed myself and the people who are invested in my journey. I’m pissed at myself. I need to stop feeling sorry for myself. The wind is here to stay. The wind doesn’t give a fuck about my record. I will keep pushing. I will be done in less than 5 days, even if I have to run through the wind. I don’t have a choice in the matter; I just have to keep riding. I know for sure that I can get there. I need to stop complaining. Yes, this is miserable. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever done. I might not ever deal with a challenge like this again in my life. It is all mental and I’m not strong enough to tackle it with grace right now. I would like to at least have the dignity to finish with pride. To have the strength to at least fake it.
I’ve been thinking a lot about my late friend Won recently. When my mind gets really sad, that’s often one of the places that it wanders. Here, wallowing in my own self-pity and self-doubt, would Won be proud of me right now? Am I comporting myself with the standards, passion, kindness, and joy that Won embodied? The answer to that is, of course, a resounding no. Won would not be proud of the way I am handling myself. I don’t think anyone in the world would be proud of the way handling myself. I’m acting like a child. If Won was here looking at me in the eyes, he would tell me to pick myself up. He was always very invested in riding. He made a Strava account and called it his “personal Bond magazine.” He never uploaded anything on Strava, but he would go on and give me kudos and text me about my progress and how my preparation for the trip was going. The last time I spoke to him, I remember telling him that I finally felt ready for my journey. I just had a couple more weeks before showtime. He hugged me and told me how excited he was to follow along. Examining my mental state right now, I know he would want better for me. He would tell me to keep pedaling and ensure me that everything will be alright. He would remind me of all the moments of hard work that I’ve put in during the past couple of months—those hours that I spent training for these exact moments. If he were here right now, he would smile and tell me to get my shit together. He would give me a big smile, tell me he is proud of my progress, but excited to see what I have left to give. He would give me a big hug and send me on my way. But he is not here right now. He’ll never be here again. I’ll never feel that hug again. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t at least try to comport myself like he is here. It doesn’t prevent me from finishing off his ride in a way that would make Won proud. In a way that embodies the joy and uplifting spirit that Won always shared with everybody else.