I jest—we have yet to lose our cool a mere six days into this 10-week, 3,600-mile bike tour across the United States. But we have lost many, many other things. An abridged list of recent losses: 1 phone, 1 sleeping mat, ½ a pair of glasses, and 1 wallet (we drove and re-drove the same beautiful stretch of mountain several times this morning, to no avail).
And then there are the smaller losses—replaceable or reversible or otherwise insignificant enough to forget soon after they happen. 2 inner tubes that have already loosed their dying breaths (i.e., flat tires), Alex’s sunglasses, Jordan’s glove, sleep, various foods and tools and personal belongings sucked into the bowels of our van…we’ll be the champions of losing by the end of August.
wallet-searching views
I’ll admit I’m leaning into the loss premise, half-joking, for the sake of the blog—but it’s true that I have been thinking about this lately. For reasons unknown to most of you, so far I’ve driven (i.e., sat in the car) more than I’ve biked this trip. On the one hand, I’ve gained time. Time spent waiting in the car for the bikers to finish their leg, time spent wandering endless grocery store aisles to find the right food or not massaging my not-sore muscles or cataloguing the many, many things we’ve lost—time spent not biking.
But this kind of time is like spare change: easy to lose. I thought I had more of it somewhere, I swear I could find some if I just looked harder, yet somehow the day is still as fragmented into various tasks as it is during the school year, just in different ways. In the car, the downhill from South Lake Tahoe to Carson City is short, and so is the day; I haven’t felt like I’ve had the time to focus on one thing. I suspect biking more will change that—I suppose time will tell.
how I spend my time: cool bikers, cooler food set-up
Now that I’ve lamented the difficulties of reclaiming time in the modern age (to quote Victoria, “it’s not that deep”), I think I’ll turn to what I have been focusing on all day: preparing for our first teaching day tomorrow.
We have two days with the Boys and Girls Club of Western Nevada; this summer is the first time Stanford Spokes is visiting this site. I already knew that teaching well is hard, but it’s hitting me all over again as I review my lesson plan and visualize how the teaching will go. I’m not sure if my workshop will scale well to students from different ends of the K-12 range. I wish I had more time than I’ve already had—even as I know that one of the best ways to improve my lesson is to teach it, receive feedback from students and anyone observing, incorporate that feedback, and repeat.
I’m excited! I’m also nervous, but I think the nerves are good for me. They remind me that there’s still a ways to go—I’m learning too.
Signing off so I can get a good night’s sleep—
Anna