Finding my way back to the world
Sometimes the hardest step of your journey is that first one out the front door. My first riding trip of the year started off a little unsure, a little rocky, a little second guess-y.
As I rolled away from my house on Friday morning, I wasn’t armed with much of a plan other than go west and south, which is pretty easy when you’re floating on a lump of land in the Atlantic Ocean.
I decided if I didn’t know what to do or where to go, maybe just playing a few of the greatest hits would suffice. It’d feel familiar enough to keep me comfortable but also still on the precipice of beginning something new. Besides, if I had a terrible day, I could just go back home.
Here’s a little clue for the next installment: I didn’t go home.