Peaks and Troughs

It has now been a week since I rolled into town. In that time I have slowed my pace to the point where I got a chance to process the chaos of my first two weeks alone in New Zealand. Along with this digestion came my first wave of homesickness. On the second day with the Tagues it really hit me. I realized I was now living the life I had chosen for myself out of the back of my tiny van. I’m completely unrooted. There’s nobody to turn to when I’m wavering. A string of discouraging thoughts ensued. I’m responsible for all my meals. I have to rely on laundromats. I have no friends to call up and hang out. What will I do when it rains? For the first time I was down, but I didn’t let it derail me fully. Through this process I had to continuously remind myself that what I was experiencing is part of the program I signed up for. I knew it would be best for myself to let the emotions flow rather than stuffing them away stoically. To cope, I put on my favorite tunes and went about my meal prep. By nighttime I was already doing better from my first episode.

The next day was my second shift at Zippy’s. It went considerably better than the first day. It was busy, but I had developed some workflow strategies that upped my efficiency enough not to get bogged down by the demands.

I made a big mistake. With my lunch I went for round two with the milkshake. I made a smoothie that had two scoops of ice cream and an unhealthy passion fruit syrup. It was delicious and I finished it, but shortly after getting to my car I started to feel pretty gross. I had planned to ride that evening, but after stopping at the grocery store I was feeling even worse. After hitting the gas station for petrol and ice I felt outright sick. Was I coming down with the flu? Did I have food poisoning? Could it have been the smoothie? I was doubtful, as the day before I put away a similar lunch with no problems whatsoever. When I got back to my plot at the Tague’s house, I felt horrible. I had a few tickles in the back of my throat. I knew by now it was the smoothie. *viewer discretion advised, not for the faint of heart* As much as I hate throwing up, I wanted to badly. I helped myself by pulling trig (sticking your index and middle fingers into the back of your throat in a shape that resembles a gun) and was able to throw up a little into my trash can. Immediately relieved, I forced myself to repeat the process a few times until I was hacking That was awful. Then the second wave of sadness hit. I was in a pitiful state, but didn’t let myself spiral out of control.

I felt better later that evening and decided to go for a little ride to salvage my day. I pedaled from the house to the forest, then had to climb an obscure way to avoid a chinless race that was taking place on the road I would have gone up. I stayed on the same side of the mountain as the neighborhood I had come from and rode down a little grade 3 trail that I had done on Saturday’s big ride. I crashed into a tree and gave my head a good whack. It was so disappointing. I also hit my shoulder and reopened the wound on my pinky knuckle for the 3rd time. It may never get the chance to heal, haha. Shaken up, I continued down the trail. A few corners later I slid out and my saddle impacted my calf and bruised the muscle. I was over it. I limped home and rode around the pumptrack once, but three quarters of the way around I ran over the hose I wasn’t supposed and chose to bail out of frustration. My exit from the track was over the freshly seeded grass which I also wasn’t supposed to ride on. What a mess I was after that.

By that evening I was actually feeling pretty OK, and that night was my best sleep since arriving, somehow.

The next day was a day off from work. I said my goodbyes to the Tagues that morning and cruised into town where I headed straight to the bike shop. I spent most of the day there and all I accomplished was the completion of my curtains. The only way I could make a fold to thread the line through was using staples, and that lack of craftsmanship is still bothering me. I definitely want to change that at some point. I’m supposed to be improving the quality of my van, not making it shabbier.

My next stroke of luck followed. Mike from the shop invited me to come stay with him and his wife, Kath, for a week. I was surprised and delighted when the offered me a room inside. Their house is partway around the lake from town, and they’re up on a hill that has a beautiful view of Lake Rotorua. Because it’s a volcanic lake, there’s an island smack dab in the middle, and the sun sets directly over it from this vantage point. Mike and Kath shared an amazing dinner with me, and we watched Redbull Straight Rhythm until bedtime. Last night was an even better sleep than the night before. This house is amazing.

Work today was more difficult because I had to take on additional roles. Normally there are two people sharing the work of washing dishes, serving food, and clearing tables, but because it was a week day I was responsible for all of those tasks. I managed, but got worn out by the end of my 8:00-2:30 shift. A guy came in who looked like a pro rider named Eddie Masters. I asked him, and sure enough he was. That was the highlight of my day. I got my free meal to go and had lunch at the van. The guys at the shop let me know about a “low key” dual slalom event that evening, so I made my way over to it. I rode the track while everyone was practicing, but chickened out of signing up. I then spent the rest of my time spectating frustrated with myself for not going for it, and eventually left before the event was over. I’m still working on my insecurity. I’ll get more opportunities to practice. Perhaps I’ll sign up for the next “low key” super D.

I’m aware that many of my mental health struggles will be ameliorated with time. As I continue to settle in here, I’ll build a friend group and a routine that will protect me from the troughs I may be susceptible to. However, I will also need to make some active changes to my lifestyle. I’m not busy enough. When I’m not at Zippy’s I don’t have much to do, and as someone who struggles with the “work=worth” mindset, that’s when I falter. I’m going to need to get on a regular riding schedule, sign up for local races, and find some projects to keep myself busy with.

I’ve been writing for long enough for it to get fully dark outside, and the screen is starting to strain my eyes. Time to stop.

As Dad says, boldly onward