day 71: on slow travel — Stanford Spokes

upon inquiry from many curious strangers over the past 10 weeks, i’ve been forced to reflect upon why i chose to do this trip in the first place. that was a question that joel asked me on day one, and the answers, some profound, some personal, some insanely superficial, have been a topic of my own internal thought spiral on many a monotonous highway and trail.

why bike when you can just fly? or drive? or do literally anything other than bike? have been the popular follow-ups by people convinced that the burdens of long-distance cycling far outweigh the joys.

i won’t lie, spokes has been one of the most challenging things i’ve ever done - for many reasons that i never expected. but i also can’t imagine where i’d be without it.

i, like some of my teammates, ironically favor walking over biking on campus. in the relatively tiny world of stanford, walking is to biking as biking is to driving or flying. i’ve come to appreciate slow travel, conscious awareness of distance and conscious recognition of a passing smile or wave. in the terrifyingly productivity-oriented culture of our university, i feel the least i can do is search for those moments, reminding myself that within stoic buildings exist genuine people.

it’s impossible to not feel small when every foot traveled requires active effort, when every rock and tree root on the C&O canal trail jolts your brain just a little bit, when we are caught in bad weather or bad spirits or bad traffic and reminded of our vulnerability to the elements. but feeling small is also grounding; it leaves us no choice but to rely upon one another and the people we meet along the way.

it stands principle in urban studies that streets are lifeless, pointless in fact, without the communities that collectively enliven them. the people. having passed through countless cities on this trip, coasted down bike lanes lining streets unfamiliar to me but home to others, i’ve felt the embrace of community even thousands of miles away from california. within unfamiliar buildings exist genuine, kind people with stories to share and so much love to give, if only you take the time to look for it.

i’m writing this blog as my teammates play a raucous game of cards on the couch next to me (canadian fish i believe?). after a successful day of trail biking, waterfall/ dam viewing, and climbing into and out of historical ravines, we arrived at our airbnb in hagerstown, MD with plenty of daylight to spare. a lively dinner cooking session ensued, followed by dessert of pecan sticky buns from a bakery we stopped at earlier. i, much to everyone’s chagrin, then showed off my dance moves, and timothy his card magic skills (please do consider buying your tickets to the spokes talent show.)

it’s hard to imagine what life will be like without the embrace of this team.

this is my last time writing for you all - in 75 short miles and 2 even shorter days, we’ll be dipping our front wheels in the atlantic ocean (or some mentally adjacent body of water), texting loved ones triumphant photographs in front of the washington monument, and saying farewell to this ever-evolving home we’ve created for ourselves.

the thought of actually completing spokes has always been an abstract one, and suddenly it’s become alarmingly concrete.

i don’t quite know what to do, or say, other than thank you for all of your support, your kind words, your willingness to read the ramblings of a few twenty-somethings (and a 19-year-old) with just enough intelligence to jump into the deep end of an adventure like this.

thank you to all of the wonderful strangers who became much more than that, including my six teammates who, believe it or not, were unfamiliar faces only six months ago. what a beautiful, strange, remarkable journey it’s been.

aja