Stepping out of our Comfort Zones, and into the Great Outdoors - Part 2, Go Further Than You Ever Have Before
For members of the silent and adventure sports communities, the meaning of the phrase “comfort zone” ranges. In Part 1 of this series, Alex shares how he got out of his comfort zone with four wheels. In Part 2, Alex pushes his boundaries on two wheels.
A cause for a cure
I have a cousin with Multiple Sclerosis who lives in North Carolina and has been involved in an annual bike ride, the Bike MS: Historic New Bern Ride, to raise awareness about the disease and raise money for research towards a cure. It’s two days, 100 miles each day, and fully supported. Last year they made the call not to meet in person for the ride and instead do a virtual ride in small groups.
I had wanted to travel down south and participate for a few years but never had the chance, so I took this as an opportunity to join without traveling. Now mind you, I am a cyclist but only in the sense that I have a road bike and a mountain bike. I enjoy riding them as often as I can, but never in any competitive fashion that would require me to really take my training seriously. (I have a cycling cap that reads “BEER” under the brim, to put my philosophy about cycling into perspective.)
Nonetheless I was determined to participate in some way so I got on Google maps and started to plot out a rough route that would send me 50 miles from home so I could ride point to point. From my apartment in downtown Milwaukee to Sheboygan was about 55 miles on I-43. I had ridden some good rail trails that I could string together to stay off the streets as much as possible.
I informed my wife that I would be setting out first thing Saturday morning with a pair of water bottles and a few granola bars in my top tube bag. She was skeptical of my preparation but as an optimist I dismissed any fears and set out my favorite jersey. I rolled into my first break of the day in Port Washington about 30 miles north of the city, my legs were feeling good thanks to the breeze that had been at my back all morning. I was thankful for the tailwind but should have seen it as the double-edged sword that it was, being an out-and-back ride. There’s a great rule to follow in solo cycling, only travel half as far as you’re willing to go in one direction, a rule I chose to ignore that day. Once you get north of Port Washington the trail weaves through farmland and forest for miles and miles, with just a few villages along the way.
Miles outside my comfort zone
Even with the good conditions, my preparation pitfalls were starting to show. I was rationing water and snacks for the return journey, even though I knew I could refill at a gas station if it came to it. The voice at the back of my head told me it might be time to head back south but Sheboygan was my stated goal. My pride got the better of my common sense.
Sometime early afternoon I made it to my midway point and popped into a sub shop for lunch and much needed liquids. The gentle northerly breeze that had carried my less than prepared legs this far had turned into a proper wind. Lake Michigan has a way of doing that. Now I was preparing to about-face and ride directly into it. Less than 10 miles into the return journey, I knew I had overextended myself, but thoughts like that aren’t very useful when you’re all alone and committed to finishing. I said these anecdotes were about our comfort zones, and let me tell you I was miles outside of mine. The mind seems to break down at an exponential rate as the body starts to give up, so the real challenge is convincing yourself that you’re not quite as doomed as you think. Sing a song in your head, or out loud, just to keep the cadence and break the silence. When you do finally eat your last snack (mine being a Laffy Taffy) let it dissolve in your mouth, don’t munch it all down at once. Savor that last bit of sustenance to pass the time.
Embracing the suffering
Worst of all, and possibly most importantly of all, try to embrace the self-induced suffering you’re going through. Remind yourself that you chose this and that (hopefully) it’s for some good cause or reason. It’s a foreign concept to many, but in the world of silent and adventure sports the act of accepting the suffering and just getting on with the task at hand can really be rewarding, especially when we do take on a new challenge that might be beyond what we previously saw as our limit.
Too exhausted to celebrate
By the end of my foolhardy tour I had done more than 120 miles, scores more than I had ever done before, my lights were dead, I was out of water, and it was all I could do to just to get into the bathtub and soak. Not even a post ride pilsner could help me. In fact I was so exhausted that beer wasn’t even remotely appetizing at the moment.
Needless to say I did not go back out Sunday and repeat, I laid on the couch working on leg cramps and a severely sore bum, but I did learn some hard won insights about myself. I realized that the hardest thing I’ve ever done is only that until I do something harder, and that if we’re willing to give up on giving up we’re capable of a lot more than we might think.
About the author:
Alex Shinners is a guest blog contributor who moved from Milwaukee to Wausau in 2021. Alex will be a guest contributor on the IRONBULL blog. So, if you’re interested in following along be sure to subscribe! Check out Parts 1 and 3 of going outside his comfort zone on a cross country car camping trip and on the slopes.