Kelly’s Korner: Riding Long Distance Solo For The First Time
Last Updated: December 1st, 2020
A friend recently was asking me about my first (and so far, only) solo road trip and the emotions that experience created. Even though that adventure took place almost six years ago, I still remember exactly how I felt once I decided that, yes, I would ride 1,000 miles to and from Boise, where I grew up, by myself: Fearful, excited, full of self-doubt, excited again, terrified, anxious. Turns out that I was looking for a way to prove to myself that I could live, and thrive, outside of my comfort zone. There’s almost no more effective a way to achieve this, I think, than taking a lengthy ride alone.
The fear, excitement and doubt all set in as soon as I nailed down the dates for the trip and started preparing my Ninja 650R and me. At first I couldn’t believe I was really about to do this. Then I realized I had a lot of planning and mechanical work to do. Having some tangible projects to tackle helped ease the chaos inside.
Of course, as luck would have it, my mechanic (read: my husband) was out of town and couldn’t help me. Our friend Pete stepped in, because he’s that kind of guy and he knows how to work on bikes. First up, a fork rebuild. Once that was done, we did an oil change, various miscellaneous checks and, finally, covered the tank of my pearl-white bike with clear Contac paper so the tank bag magnets wouldn’t scratch. (I invested three months in sanding every fairing and painted that bike on my 11th wedding anniversary. No way was I going to let her get ruined.)
Pete and I spent a night in his shop going over the entire bike so she would be ready for the haul. I can’t recount all of the steps Pete showed me but I do recall feeling more confident as I helped take my bike apart and put her back together. Having a sense of what was on the inside, what would carry me across those unknown miles, gave me knowledge I didn’t have before. Knowledge equals power.
After that, I began to feel a little less fear and a little more excitement. I next had to figure out how to pack light, make sure all of my gear, including leathers, were up to par, and determine my route. And then the time came when I’d strapped on the tail pack, attached the tank bag, packed my phone and pepper spray, and had no more excuses. It was a late morning in August, in Phoenix. I could have used the heat as a reason to delay but when I’m ready, I’m ready now. So I was off.
The fear crept back in as I headed for the Beeline Highway. You’ll laugh, but one of my biggest stressors was the road itself – whether the lanes, especially as I got into the mountains, would be wide enough in case I had to make an emergency maneuver. I was going to ride through Payson, Strawberry and Pine and take the Lake Mary Road to Flagstaff. And suddenly I was worried that I wouldn’t have enough space or someone would pull out in front of me on one of those fast-moving two-lane roads and kill me.
Fear is almost never rational and a solo road trip is a great way to beat that paralyzing kind of anxiety right out of you. And, for me so far, my fears have proven worse than reality.
At the top of Lake Mary Road, where the road crests and you get the panorama of the lake and, in the other direction, the San Francisco Peaks, I started to relax. I had two more days of riding to Boise ahead of me, but that was the moment I began to internalize my own capabilities. I could do this. I would enjoy this. I would learn new truths about myself and I would process and act on them. I felt empowered.
But as you probably guessed, my feelings fluctuated throughout the trip. I’d feel energized, then the fatigue would kick in and I’d wonder if I had the mental and physical strength to keep going. Self-doubt ran as rampant as I let it. After a stop and food, though, I’d feel energized and optimistic. Later, in northern Utah, in rain and road construction, I wouldn’t feel my booty anymore. In southern Idaho, in cold rain that felt like bullets even through leathers, I felt angry. What was I thinking? Riding into Boise, those last 30 minutes to my destination, I felt empty. (Hint: That’s a sign to stop for another rest, not push through out of stubbornness.) And, on my final day of riding, at the Chevron on the 89 just as you come into Flagstaff from the north, I hit that dangerous wall that motorcyclists confront: I want to be home NOW. I shouldn’t have pushed myself. I should have stayed another night or at least until the sun was setting. But I gave in to the impatience and kept going, to the point that I induced heat exhaustion from riding in 110 degrees in full leathers. Lesson learned: Even when I feel a certain way, I don’t have to act on the impulse.
That trip triggered emotions that traversed the spectrum from total, invigorated high to angry, exhausted low. Many of the feelings were unexpected and sudden. Some passed swiftly. Some stuck around, for good or bad. There were moments when I wanted to quit and others when I never wanted to get off the bike. The whole way, in between interactions with people at gas stations, restaurants and motels, all I had was my own thoughts. Sometimes I slipped into that Zen state we all seek, where you’re aware and awake, cruising along in a place of serenity, and sometimes I got mired in my crazy head. And I was the only person who could get me out of it. Those whole 2,000 miles, the only person I could count on was me.
That ride to Boise and back was a huge undertaking for me, someone who heretofore took few risks and who could talk herself out of any challenging idea in a second. It taught me to trust myself a little more and question the negative messages I can tell myself. It showed me a big, beautiful part of the west, complete with epic wildland fire burning just off the I-15. It showed that I can rely on just me and emerge from the experience a better, more interesting, more confident person.
My next solo adventure is long overdue. First, I want to invite you to join me on a pre-adventure trip to meet my commitment of getting back to basics. Back to training I go. I am fearful, excited, full of self-doubt, excited again, terrified, anxious for the 2015 that awaits!
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