100 Miles to Freedom

Susan B. Anthony said that bicycling “has done more to emancipate women than anything else in the world. It gives women a feeling of freedom and self-reliance.”

On August 23, upon arriving in Great Falls after completing a 9 ½ hour, 101- mile solo bicycle ride up from Helena, I understood what Ms. Anthony meant. My ride was a battle in which I was the lone warrior fighting. My mind and body were pushed to the ultimate extremes. When I wanted to quit, I was the only one there to convince my trembling legs to keep turning circles. But somewhere along the way I was overcome with an immense feeling of peace and freedom. It was a high that I’m still smiling about and riding on at this very moment.

At 6:30 a.m., while Helena was beginning to rustle itself awake, I steadily climbed the hill out of town. My sights were set on the ever-watchful and iconic Sleeping Giant in front of me. I smiled noticing sunflowers lining both sides of the highway. Their faces were turned towards the blood red sun rising in the smoky sky to the east. To me, they were beacons of hope reminding me to stay focused on the light at the end of tunnel---whether that be the end of my ride or the next obstacle in life.    

Ten miles before Wolf Creek I coasted down onto the frontage road which I followed for the remaining 80 miles to Great Falls. Winding curiously alongside the Missouri, it is a beautiful drive indeed. But on a bicycle, it is spectacular. It was therapeutic in a way that can’t be described....only felt.

While my odometer ticked by each slow mile, my eyes wandered over the calm parts of the river where fly fishermen stood casting lines. I hollered out excitedly to herds of grazing cattle I passed and marveled at large white pelicans that dotted the sandbars in the river.  As I passed over an old trellise bridge a few miles past Craig, I tipped my helmet in respectful admiration to a trio of kayakers paddling below me. Seems I wasn’t the only one on a journey that day. 

For 101 miles I trudged along alone, but I was never without the grace of the sun on my brow, an occasional breeze at my back and the Mighty Mo serving as my compass. Many people come to Montana for vacation. For them this place is a dream. Us Montana natives often forget how truly lucky we are. My ride slowed me down and made me take notice of all the tiny blessings and beauty encompassing me.

When I finally reached the top of the hill overlooking Great Falls, I was utterly exhausted and relieved. And yet, I felt a terrible sense of loss knowing that my journey was almost at its end. To have pushed myself so far for so long was miraculous to me. All those awful memories of grade school gym teachers screaming at me when I couldn’t jog for a solid mile were obliterated in that moment. I had made it. I did it alone. And I felt the most wonderful sense freedom and accomplishment.

The Joys of Camping Life

Last weekend I went camping at Placid Lake State Park with my boyfriend, Andy, and his family. Andy’s family used to own a cabin on Placid so he spent every summer growing up boating there and tinkering away at his ever-expanding tree house out back. Andy first brought me to Placid Lake camping a few years ago and it’s been my favorite spot ever since.
 

Located on the tributary of the Clearwater River and just three miles south of Seeley Lake, Placid is a perfect getaway. That first glimpse of the lake, after rounding the corner near the dock and boat launch, is a stunning one. Bordered by Douglas fir and Ponderosa Pines, Placid is a quaint but beautiful lake. It is quite literally a visual postcard forever framed in my mind.

We spent most of the weekend boating back and forth across the lake with everyone trying their hand at wakeboarding and surfing. Thanks to all my large gulps of water from crashing on the boards, I stayed thoroughly hydrated in the heat. In our down time, we sat around the picnic table telling stories and observing the curious and gluttonous habits of campground squirrels. I also enjoyed meandering down the road that circles the lake and admired the thousands of lily pads that embellish the lake’s edge.  When evening descended, I always lingered at the dock to photograph sunsets in hues of orange and red seemingly too vibrant to be real. The spectacles of nature never cease to amaze me.

On our second evening a thunder storm put on a mesmerizing performance over the lake. Every few minutes another grumble echoed down from the sky quickly followed by a flash of lightning. Each bolt looked like a luminescent tree limb branching out. And despite my grade school warnings about not going near water when there’s lightning, I couldn’t help but walk to the end of the dock for a front row seat of the show. At one point, lightning lit up the sky in a shade of violet so brilliant it took my breath away. 

When the final morning of our trip arrived, I stayed in my sleeping bag extra late letting my senses soak up every last bit of nature around me. I listened to the buzz and hums of insects as they bounced off the tent walls. The scent of propane and smoke reminded me that breakfast was in the works, and perhaps a last minute s’more. I pictured the morning lake in my mind, smooth as glass, with small groups of loons drifting along on it.

I had loved every minute of camping, but that final minute came too soon. After a quick run into Seeley to grab a chocolate/vanilla swirled ice cream cone from the iconic Ice Cream Place, we reluctantly set our sights toward home. But with dozens of pictures on my camera and the scent of smoke still embedded in my clothes, I knew I was taking a piece of nature back with me.

 

Thinking for yourself

This past weekend at church the sermon focused around the Parable of the Rich Fool in the Book of Luke. While it had a powerful message regarding how being in rich in money and possessions means nothing in the eyes of God, I left reflecting on a different message.

During the homily, the priest discussed how Jesus teaches by way of parables in order to spark our imaginations and help us better reflect on our own lives and reach our own conclusions particular to our personal circumstances.  He mentioned that Jesus was never apt to wag his finger at people while reciting a list of rules and regulations, but rather used parables to make people think for themselves. He never imposed on them what their beliefs and lifestyle should be. Listening to the sermon I started thinking about how fortunate I was to be brought up around people who likewise encouraged me to think for myself.

I was raised with the bare minimum of religious principles. I rarely attended church and religion was not exactly a regular topic of discussion around the dinner table. As I became older, my lack of religious upbringing started to bother me. I felt like I was missing this really crucial piece of life that everyone else around me seemed to have. But as life progressed, I came to appreciate that fact rather than loathe it.

It seems like when you are raised in a particular religion from birth, you have so many opinions determined for you right out of the gate. You are told what to believe, how/when to pray, who is allowed to marry, when you have to attend church, what actions guarantee you a spot in hell, and which religion is the “right” one.  And regardless of Jesus’ parable teachings, some things in religion still seem to be very black and white and not open for discussion.

My appreciation for not growing up in a religious family is rooted in the fact that I was allowed to develop my own beliefs….they were not imposed on me. Although I still have most of the same beliefs of my religious-based friends, the difference is that I made the decision to come to those beliefs on my own. Naturally when you have children you raise them with your same beliefs because that’s what you know, but I think sometimes giving kids a little bit more space to observe the options and choose what suits them best on their own may be a better route. And for me personally, coming to my beliefs in my own time and in my own way has resulted in incredibly strong convictions that perhaps rival even some of my most religious friends’ convictions.

Being allowed to think for yourself and draw your own conclusions on what to believe also promotes greater open-mindedness in my opinion. A lot of the people I’ve met with strong religious backgrounds are unfortunately not always the most willing to consider other beliefs and lifestyles. They believe what they believe and anything outside of that is obviously wrong. This results in being more judgmental than necessary. Like everyone, I have my judgmental moments, but I do try to be more considerate of other possibilities out there even if I don’t agree with them.  

Religion, of any kind, is a beautiful and blessed thing, but sometimes I think it has the potential to compromise our own imagination.  The Parable of the Rich Fool reminded me how Jesus himself encouraged people to think for themselves. He may have supplied the stories, but he wanted his listeners to invest the time and energy to figure out what they meant and how they could best be applied in their own lives.  I think biblical passages like this encourage everyone to think for themselves and not be so sure of everything that is told to them…even by the religious figures they hold in high regard. Even Pope Francis recently made the defining comment of “Who am I to judge?” in regards to homosexuals. I, for one, was incredibly inspired to hear the leader of the Catholic Church, which has long held a staunch stance on homosexuality, concede the fact that it is not his place to judge such matters, but rather God’s. That was a true moment of reflection and consideration of an alternative idea. This sort of reflection and growth is what is often discussed in church but not always carried out. But it is at the heart of all spiritual and faith journeys.   

Do Whatever It Takes

Last night at the gym I was lifting weights next to a girl whose shirt happened to catch my attention. Across it were the words, “Do My Best.” Only the words, “My Best,” were scratched out. Underneath it was the phrase, “Whatever it takes.”  So what it meant to say was “Do Whatever It Takes.” Something about what her shirt said reiterated a thought I’d been pondering earlier that day. It had to do with the concept of desperation.

 I got to thinking about all of the desperate moments of my life where, for one reason or another, I found myself doing or saying something irrational and borderline crazy. Whether it was getting so frustrated with a boy that I drove clear to another town to give him a piece of my mind or became so suffocated by my surroundings that I rode dozens of miles away from them on a bicycle with nothing but a granola bar and bladder of water strapped on my back, I seem to continually find myself feeling desperate in life.

Up until now I have usually reflected later on such moments as times of weakness. But something about the words on that girl’s shirt tonight made me consider otherwise.

Growing up, you are always told to do your best, and that as long you do that, the outcome is irrelevant. But I have experienced just enough in life to realize by now that your best is often still not good enough. And perhaps more importantly, you should never consider your best as good enough. Giving just your best is sort of like keeping yourself in your own little comfort zone all of the time. Once you know you’ve given your best at something, you stop working at it because you figure there’s nothing left to do. But just as the night is darkest before the dawn, I believe one’s greatest accomplishments and gains in life often come when you push just passed your best.....when you find yourself in a desperate place.

All species of life on earth are hard wired with some type of survival instinct…humans especially. And no matter how difficult life becomes at times and how strong the desire is to give up, there is always that little feeling in our gut that reminds us that we do still actually want to go on living. It is a feeling of desperation. But I think that instinct has the potential to go beyond just keeping us alive. I think that if we can learn to tap into it correctly, we can use it to make us better and stronger people who work harder at everything we do.

When you choose to participate in a feat of physical endurance like a marathon or triathlon, giving your best will not see you through to the end of the finish line. You have to want to accomplish that goal so badly that you push yourself beyond your best into weeks and months of training where physical pain and exhaustion are constant. And the harder you work, the more desperate you become at the thought of failure, so you continue to do “whatever it takes” to prepare your body for the event and to not quit when you’re right in the middle of it.

When you’re in a relationship with someone that you feel is nearing its end point, you think about how tired you are of working at the same things without progress and how just ending it would bring you peace finally. Sometimes relationships do need to end. But too often, people end them without putting up a respectable amount of fight for them. You helped create the relationship initially and worked to hold it together for a while…..why give up on it so easily when things get a little rocky or complicated? Married couples that are fortunate enough to celebrate 50^th and 60^th wedding anniversaries certainly don’t reach those milestones by giving their best. They reach them by doing whatever it takes to hold their relationship together in hard times---because thinking of the alternative leaves them feeling too desperate.

When you are striving towards achieving a difficult dream, like I am with my writing, giving your best will never get you there. Doing my best with my writing would involve getting a journalism or creative writing degree and then applying for some run-of-the-mill reporter job at the local paper or as a college professor where I’d have time to work on my novel at night. But I’m trying to tap into the “do whatever it takes” motto by working 4 or 5 jobs some weeks…sometimes without pay…sometimes without byline recognition. I hound editors at newspapers and magazines until they get so sick of hearing from me that they assign me a small piece.  And the further along I get with my dream, the more desperate I get to keep moving closer.

The point is that giving your best, no matter what area of life it is in, will take you far but not as far as you are capable of. Reaching your full potential and accomplishing great things requires pushing yourself beyond where you think you are capable of going. It means wanting something bad enough that you will do whatever it takes to make it happen. And to do that, you must first taste desperation.