Category: Bicycle Touring

Without fanfare, I glided down the last mile of US 80

When: April 19, 2022 | Where: Tybee Island, Georgia
Miles Cycled: 3,330 | Days on the Road: 120

I finished. On April 19th, I wheeled onto Tybee Island, just south of the mouth of the Savannah River. Without fanfare, I glided down the last mile of US 80, which had been my off-and-on path since I’d first laid wheels on it leaving El Centro California, a month into my “ramble.”

I felt calmly satisfied. I knew I had completed what I’d set out to do. That it had been hard. That I had exceeded the physical envelope in which I’d slowly sealed myself over the years prior. I’d rediscovered parts of myself… and uncovered… or maybe created new parts.

I had left home in the aftermath of much trauma. Trauma that haunted me through many hundreds of miles of solitary endurance. I didn’t bury the trauma, but I had managed to find a place for it in the patchwork of my experience that I could live with.

It was quiet on Tybee, a summer beach destination not yet emerged from hibernation. My thoughts and feelings were shared with no one as I pedaled the last mile and a half to the end of the highway.

Passing the end of US 80 — the Korean War Veterans Memorial Highway — a short trip through a residential neighborhood brought me to the final turn that led to a boardwalk.

Julie had passed me coming over the bridge, and was parked and waiting where the asphalt ended. We each filmed my approach from opposite perspectives.

I’d met Julie more than 3 months earlier, in Palmdale, California, and she had travelled to meet me at several places along the route. Most recently, we had met in Montgomery, Alabama, where we celebrated her birthday, and she had followed me for the final 300 miles. The trek had started in isolation, but had been a shared journey for most of the way. Seeing her there at the finish line, the completion of one journey was inextricably joined with the beginning of another.

We walked Juan Sebastian out over the sand together, and she filmed the ceremonial dipping of the tires in the waters of the Atlantic. We would spend the following week sightseeing and making our way back to Montgomery, where we had booked our flights home.

At some point during the course of the trip, wrestling with whether to post my exploits on social media… perpetually aware that I hadn’t maintained my story through “Lemuel’s Ramble” as I’d intended, I came to realize that I needed this to be a mostly private experience. At least in the short term… while it was happening, I needed to undergo the struggle for myself, without the implied external commitments inherent in sharing it.

Of course I shared it with Julie… and a handful of my closest friends and family tracked my progress. But it was my journey. The things I needed to prove were things I needed to prove to myself and nobody else. I’d lived my trauma alone, and whatever validation I needed was internal.

Nearly 2 months later, typing on my phone from a boat in the Seychelles, I’m beginning to feel like sharing. I’ll save the story of how I end up in the planet’s remote places for another time, but as I rest here, surrounded by beauty, I’m pondering the ways in which my journey might help shine a light for others.

I had a lot of time to think and feel on the road. I think some of those thoughts and feelings may have value for others. I’m going to set about slowly figuring out how best to do that now.

Still Pedaling

When: Match 28, 2022 | Where: Natchitoches, Louisiana
Miles Cycled: 2,473 | Days on the Road: 98

In early February, I spent a few nights in Scottsdale, Arizona. I was stressed out because I hadn’t been finding time to post to Lemuel’s Ramble. I was also having difficulty managing all the gear (especially the camping gear) and packing on a day-to-day basis.

A friend suggested that cycling across a continent might be enough for the moment. Maybe the blog needed to wait. Maybe the rigors of camping on top of the straightforward difficulty of the cyldle were more than I needed to take on at once.

I’d been thinking a lot about my adhd, and how it truly has impacted me… how I’d forced my way through life by pounding my head against it.

After some time to consider it, I took the advice. I sent the camping gear home, and resolved to document my journey and thoughts after I’d accomplished what I’d set out to do.

A lot has happened since I last wrote, starting with 2000+ miles I’ve cycled. I will write about it all at length in the months ahead. For now, as I was sitting here having hotel room coffee for the umpteenth time, just a quick hello to anyone still listening to let you know I’m still going, and that things are going well.

It’s less than 900 miles from here to Savannah, Georgia, where I intend to wrap things up. I’m much stronger, and a bit lighter than I was when I last updated. And I’m feeling positive about the journey so far, and about what remains of it.

More to come… but maybe not for a few weeks. 🙂

Quick Update

When: January 24, 2022 | Where: Palm Desert, California
Miles Cycled: 550| Days on the Road: 36

Just a quick post to update my progress. Three long days of pedaling brought me a little over 150 miles from Palmdale to Thousand Palms (there are a lot of palms in the region), where I got my handlebars replaced over the weekend. Had a few days off, waiting for parts and for the actual upgrade, and then gave the new bars an easy workout yesterday, coasting to Palm Desert.

I’m heading for Salton Sea today, where facilities are few. Most likely be camping tonight, and then off to Brawley, California tomorrow for a night or two in a hotel before the long desert trek to Phoenix.

You probably wouldn’t take me for someone who gets hurt easily

When: January 17 , 2022 | Where: Palmdale, California
Miles Cycled: 382 | Days on the Road: 28

***Writing this on my second night in Palmdale, after summiting the highest climb (3,237 feet) I’m likely to see on this side of the Mississippi.***

I’m probably the biggest guy you’ve ever seen on a bike.  I’m without a doubt the slowest guy on the road (at least I haven’t passed anyone yet). I am very likely the most sincere and genuine person you will ever meet. I’m kind and compassionate.

I’m smarter than most.  But, I often get out of the shower, having forgotten to rinse the soap off.   ADHD often makes me scattered.  I can be talking to someone, start a sentence, veer into a series of tangents, and find myself still talking several minutes later, completely unaware of what my point was. I think the people who know me well think it’s endearing.

My sense of empathy is sometimes a burden; sometimes I feel what others feel so strongly it hurts. 

I’m a pleaser, and seek approval.  I wouldn’t have really believed that about myself prior to getting sober.  Or even for some lengthy period of time after that. I remember coming to the realization around Thanksgiving of 2020, and still taking a couple of months to actually believe it.  I saw a meme recently that said,

“A child who can sense that they’re not living up to their parents’ expectations becomes the adult who betrays themselves for validation.”

Reading it, I felt like I got hit in the solar plexus. It seemed to explain too much about me.

I’m big (as noted), and I have a booming voice.  You probably wouldn’t take me for someone who gets hurt easily, but I am.  I got hurt deeply before I left.  That’s too big a topic for this post. Suffice that it’s made me question my most deeply-held beliefs and principles.

By the time I left, my voyage of physical health and self-discovery had become as much about escaping and forgetting. I left 5 days before Christmas, because the idea of Christmas… the idea of celebrating anything felt like a giant and cruel practical joke to me.  I wanted no part of it.

Rejection hypersensitivity is a common trait among those with ADHD. The first time I read that, I burst into tears.  For the truth of it, and for the myriad ways rejection has seemed to seek me out over the course of my life, from the extreme bullying I endured in elementary school and my parents’ apathy about it, to the machinations my father’s fifth wife went through to exclude me from his funeral.

My Ramble is not a feel-good story right now. Maybe it will become one, but I’ve always sought what’s real, and that’s what I’ll strive to give you as this progresses 

At the moment, I’m taking refuge in the business of undertaking this excursion. The actual cycling and the logistics of being on the road and navigating across a continent have added up to a lot of work. After managing that, creating “Lemuel’s Ramble,” and trying to build it into something worthwhile has taken up what time remains.

I will say that my state of mind has generally improved over the past 4 weeks of cycling.  I was feeling thoroughly alienated from most things when I rolled out of my driveway alone.  Much of that has worn away as I’ve used some of my time to reconnect with friends, and to make new connections

My physical strength has improved a lot, and with accomplishment… even accomplishment that’s still largely unshared… has come some positive energy. 

A friend asked if there had been any moments where I wanted to quit, or felt like this was crazy.  Oddly, that sounded like a foreign concept to me. 

When I left, there wasn’t much for me at all at home.  I felt compelled to be gone from there, and to get on with the business of this quest as soon as was possible.  Nobody would confuse me with Tony Robbins at this point, but I can say that I’m exactly where I want and need to be. The idea of going “home” sounds terrible.

I am not inadequate

When: January 12, 2022 | Where: Carpinteria, California
Miles Cycled: 276 | Days on the Road: 24

ADHD finds all kinds of ways to remind me of my inadequacy.  No.  Let me change that word to “disability.”

Inadequacy is what I felt for most of my life, as I bought into the still-popular notion that ADHD — especially among adults — is really just excuse making for those who lack discipline and work ethic. 

I struggle with the word “disability,” because I feel like I’m commandeering a word meant for people with “real” disabilities. I’m still so conditioned to believe that my disorganized mind doesn’t qualify.  That if I just tried harder to focus my thoughts, or to stop absent-mindedly setting things down in places I won’t remember, or to be more “diligent” when reviewing important details… If I just tried harder, I could be like “normal” people.

But, trying harder is never going to change the fundamental architecture of my brain. My brain will never work the same way as a “neurotypical” brain. That fact is always going to cause me to miss things others see plainly.  My brain is always going to struggle to keep order from becoming chaos.  It’s the brain architecture I was born with, and the fact that I’ve done well in spite of it doesn’t change the truth that it’s always been disabling.

I am not inadequate.

I was tearing up when I wrote that last sentence. I’m laughing now, because I realized that I sat down to write an update on my travels, and got characteristically waylaid by my thoughts.

What I was starting to say was that I got reminded of my “disability” yesterday when I discovered that I had not actually published “Lemuel’s Ramble” yet. For more than a month, I had thought I was putting my thoughts out there for the world to see, and only discovered yesterday that every last idea was stuck in blog purgatory, just waiting for someone to notice the “publish” button… which I hadn’t.  So, people who clicked links to entries from social media were informed that “Lemuel’s Ramble” was “COMING SOON!”

Oy.

Dotting i’s and crossing t’s is never going to be my thing.

It’s fixed now, just in time for me to start heading inland, which I should be doing later today after stopping at a bike shop in Ventura. 

My handlebars are just a little too low or too forward, and arm fatigue is proving to be a bigger issue than leg fatigue.  I’m hoping they’ll have the part (or parts) I need to solve the issue today, so that I can continue on to Santa Paula or further before dark.