Post-Pain Joy
Thanksgiving weekend, one year ago…
It was my last chance at a multiday bikepacking trip for the year and this was a goal that I had not checked off on the adventure summer. The forecast was for rain but I was more attached to the goal than to the voice of reason.
After just two hours of biking the first evening I found a special spot Kootney Lake and watched the sky change as we lost the last of our light for the evening. It felt right, it felt like accomplishment. I biked, I would sleep, and bike again. The goal was about to be reached.
Day two was a long one. I had been listening to a lot of endurance bikers, even racers, who had influenced a mindset around self-efficacy and crushing big mile days. Highway miles for hours, then gravel along the Lardeau River with a very slight uphill grade (so small I paid it no attention until riding the same route in reverse half a year later and realizing how much easier it was). I decided to attempt a section I figured would take me three hours at the least, an up and over section next to a long lake and would bring me right to darkness. If nothing else, I would just camp on this section up in the hills. Then it started raining, then I started seeing bears, then I began losing day light in the clouded sky. A truck stopped to offer me a ride but I declined having earned the downhill I now was approaching. Unfortunately it was raining hard enough that I couldn’t keep my eyes open, I put on my sunglasses but it was dark enough this was quite challenging to see. Bummer that downhill was such a slog and the bears had scared me enough I wanted to get closer to town to at least feel safer even if I wasn’t really.
I rolled in off the down hill to a sneaky camp along the lake in the darkness. It was raining, I was wet. I had biked almost 100km that day with lots of gravel and a solid up hill in there. I was stoked to get into my sleeping bag and out of my wet clothes. It was only about 7pm but totally dark for the next 12 hours.
Day three and I was sad about the rain, my body was tired and I wished for company to take the edge off the miserable conditions. Eventually I rallied to put on my wet bike clothes and get packed up. I biked for a while, added some more layers, ate some more food, and wondered if the rain would lighten up at all. Not the case, times of heavy rain hit hard and I was very cold. The worst part? The ongoing reel in my head that ran circles around how far we had made it, that we weren’t going fast enough to finish the whole route in the time I had, questions of why we were out here, who cared if we finished it, did I have anything to gain in the suffering. I’d tell myself to think about something else, talk about something else, but we circled back a lot.
As I reached the highway the rain cleared for a short while and it felt fresh and fast to pick my way up some big hills and cruise hard down them. My gears were not shifting well though and the rain returned. By this point I was so cold I couldn’t hardly take breaks, if I did I couldn’t warm up from them. I would try to only stop at the bottom of a big hill so I could get back on and bike as hard as I could up to try and warm up, I was down to a single speed that limited this.
At some point, after debating it for a while, my body spoke for me initiating the pull over to the shoulder of the road. “I guess we’re done” I thought to myself and stuck out my thumb hoping for a ride. I had debated how to go about this - do I just hope hard for a quick ride? Or do I put on my dry set of clothes to be able to wait long enough if needed but risk soaking them and be fully committed to sleeping inside somewhere for the night?
A ride came soon, took me to the next town and I set up in a coffee shop. I was dripping everywhere so decided to change and knew there was no way any more biking was happening today. Warm food, dry clothes, watching the storm from inside (it blew my bike over while I was getting changed) and the kindness of more strangers giving rides to my vehicle all made for a pleasant memory of the trip and I found myself thinking I would totally do it again.
Wait, what??? I was miserable in the cold rain and dark solo night. I was in a repetitive and awful loop of negative self talk for half a day. Why was I so ready to do it again before I had even unpacked?
I am reflecting on this trip now as it is thanksgiving weekend and this is a year ago today. Just a few days ago I hung out with grade 9 boys on a two night hike trip for school and they were counting down every minute until it was over, even thought the weather was nice and we were playing games. At 5:30 on the final morning when I went to wake them they were already up and as we walked out of camp at 7:15 am they were singing together with joy to finally be going home. I wonder once they are home, showered and have a good night sleep (perhaps some junk food and a netflix binge for this generation) if they will be stoked on the experience. Stoked that they survived and feel they are better for the experience, whether they would do it again or not.
How about you? Do you get this ‘post-pain joy’ feeling and do things again and again that in the process or in the moment you wish you weren’t doing? Do you suffer on purpose? What happens when you do?
I just got home from these trips, it’s beautiful and sunny here and I feel so grateful to be home, so thankful for the experience. I also feel so grateful that we are heading into darkness, I’ve been yearning for more reflection time, more cozy nights, more pre-dawn mornings. I’m glad this memory came up for me to see the change in the last year.
