On Sunday I took a course on crowdfunding and dove into my Kickstarter project full force. During a minor panic attack over how little time there is between now and my trip, I had to remind myself that I’ve been talking up my trip since last summer and I’m not starting from square one. First of all, I have this blog, I have an Instagram account that is slowly building up steam, and a Youtube channel in the works. I’m getting things done! In the past few weeks, I have felt incredibly good about how much I’ve accomplished, about how regularly I’ve posted here and on Instagram. I can be a flake sometimes, but I’m taking this project seriously. I’m figuring out what I want this trip to accomplish, what I want my book to accomplish, and I’ve mustered up every ounce of passion I have in me to make this thing happen.
My first point of action was to start filming my Kickstarter video. I came up with a list of visuals I wanted to shoot: me on my bike, the mountains of books I’ve read or plan to read for research, even the locations I had in mind. I wanted to film outside in the sunshine and was absolutely set on doing so Tuesday. The forecast said it was the only warm and sunny day in a week full of rain and cold. I don’t own a car, so I came up with a packing list, loaded up my panniers and went on a ride. In addition to the weather, my training regime required me to go on one 40 mile ride and I wanted to do that on a nice, warm day.
“Friends, books are heavy. Like, HEAVY.”
I have a lot of books on Lewis and Clark. I filled up both panniers with my collection. I made one slight oversight. Friends, books are heavy. Like, HEAVY. I planned to go to Lexington to get a few shot on a set of picnic tables in front of a cute yellow colonial house museum right off the bike path. I had only gone eight miles and my limbs were already pretty tired when I arrived. I got a handful of good shots and started thinking that a 16 mile ride sounded a lot more doable than biking another 24 miles with 40 pounds of books to drag along. I was ready to listen to my body. The weight I was carrying was a huge jump in my training. I was meant to bike with “light weight.” 40 pounds was much closer to the full weight I’d carry on the trip in a month when I finish training.
I texted my mom. “Man I wish the sun was gonna be out tomorrow. I got a few shots, but I think I’m gonna head home. Books are really heavy.”
“Get used to it baby girl.”
She responded “Get used to it baby girl.”
It was a fair point. I was going to be carting that much with me for months! In retrospect, it was too easy to pressure me into continuing when I felt it was too much. I don’t turn back easily. I really should have listened to the blaring warning signs my body had already given me, but I continued past the end of the bike trail, down a few miles of dirt path through the woods, (much more solid and dry now than my last muddy attempt,) and into Concord. I set up my tripod and got nearly all of the shots I wanted. It was time consuming. I’d decided to film a good portion of my shots at Old North Bridge. There’s a steep gravel path through an open field and I was sure it would make for some great action shots. The trouble was that it’s a tourist destination and a common place to take an afternoon walk. It took significantly longer than it should have. I kept on having to wait for people to walk out of shot. The moment one was out of frame the next was just entering it. At least it was a decent length break, and it kept me active. My adrenaline kept pumping. When I was done I continued into downtown Concord and took an eight mile loop through farmlands and colonial houses, back to Old North Bridge before I headed home.
The sun went down as I biked home. I was too tired to even clip my shoes in, and too tired to even flip my pedals to the flat side for comfort. My feet were sore from the awkward pressure the clip put on my arches, but I pushed through. It got colder, and even wearing my fleece I was shivering. In Arlington I ordered a burrito through Grubhub that would be at my door when I got home. That was enough to get me there. I could barely pick up my feet when I got back. I kept tripping over myself. I left my panniers in the basement to deal with later. I barely said a word to my roommate, completely ignored his dog, who kept insisting on an enthusiastic greeting I was too wiped to give. I climbed all the way upstairs and flopped into my bed. A half an hour later, I’d recovered enough, eaten by burrito, and got off my butt. I took a long hot shower to warm up and soak my tired limbs.
The Stars On the Horizon 