My Overgrown Sense of Adventure

I'm starting to think that maybe some people don't know me very well. I tell them* about my upcoming bike trip** and they react as though this entire thing is somehow out of character for me. Really, it isn't out of character at all. This is me. It's always been me, and I think I always expected something big like this was coming. I only occasionally thought it would come now.

*Them includes my friends, family, acquaintances, and anybody unfortunate enough to make eye contact and smile at me at a coffee shop. They all get to hear the whole story because I love to tell it. You know who you are.

**Holy crap. I'm moving to New Mexico on a bicycle in four weeks!

When I was about 11-years-old, a Meijer supermarket opened about a mile from my home. I begged and begged my mom to let me walk down there to buy a frozen Coke.* I don't even like frozen Cokes. But when you're 11, a mile can be a world away, and I wanted to explore it. When she allowed me to make the trek, it was like she had just commissioned my own Nina, Pinta, and Santa Maria.

*One time I ordered a frozen Coke at this restaurant called Amy's. My grandmother wondered if they thing was really frozen - like solid frozen, so she tipped it over to find out. Frozen Coke was everywhere. This was probably 16 years ago. She still hasn't heard the end of it.

When I got my driver's license I came home from church - about 7 miles away - by way of middle Michigan. I decided to get home using only roads I'd never traveled. As it turned out, I'd been on a lot of roads. I really had to go out of my way before I was even nearly lost. It took hours. I never told my parents. Yes, they do read this blog.

In summer 2004, I got into a car with a friend. We drove three hours to Indianapolis, but since we were each living there, it didn't seem like an adventure. We ended up sleeping at a rest stop in Dayton. Taking only roads we didn't know, we wound up at the Cincinnati Zoo.

In spring 2005, I met a friend for coffee in the late evening. I was bored, so we went for a walk. At 11:00 p.m., 13 miles later,* we were back at the coffee shop.

*Entirely in flip-flops. Bad decision.

In August & September of 2006, I lived in a tent for forty days and forty nights.

So no, this isn't that strange of a thing. At least not for me.