Curiosity, Not Passion

Elizabeth Gilbert gave a TED talk in which she said to "follow your curiosity" instead of your passion. Following your passion, she said, puts pressure on you to choose one thing to "love" and pursue it. However, in reality, many of us have several things we enjoy. Following curiosity takes that pressure off: you don't have to love something to wonder about it and tinker with it. Furthermore, if you decide to pursue something else, you don't feel like you're "breaking up" with your "passion." I very much agree with this logic: why put pressure on yourself to find your ONE TRUE LOVE when you could instead spend your life seeking answers to all your questions? Some of those questions might stay in one subject for a few hours or a few years, but it's up to where your muse takes you and it's no big deal if the interest doesn't hang around.

Here's a recent personal example: on Monday, I had a conversation with my supervisor about cycling. I was telling her about my ride and she said I must have a passion for it. I thought for a moment and said, "No, not really. It's just something I do. I like to go fast, but I'm also just curious...I wonder if I can go further or climb that hill." "But deep down," she said, "you must have a passion that drives you." I shrugged. It was funny; she was trying to convince me I had a passion and I was trying to convince her I didn't. Right now, cycling is one of my curiosities. I like learning about the effectiveness of body positioning and gripping, some mechanics of the bicycle itself, and my own abilities when I push myself for long distances or uphill. However, I don't love cycling. I don't have an attachment to it or a burning desire to race around outside. I started doing it because I have a bike instead of a car, and when I do get a car, I'd like to try other sports. If cycling falls off the radar, then that's the way it goes. If it hangs around, so be it. Regardless, I prefer not choose a passion, but rather follow my curiosity. It lets me focus on learning instead of defining myself.

Ride Review

The ride on Sunday was both fun and miserable. I'm glad I did it, but I'm not eager to ride over 40 miles again...not on my hybrid anyway. The first half of the ride was fun because there were hills, and I like hills. The second half was not fun because as soon as the route turned south, we had headwind. Somehow, the wind stayed with us the whole rest of the route and I was fighting it, sometimes uphill. The roads weren't awesome either; my wrists hated the bumping. I was tired, hungry, thirsty (and out of water), and I wanted to go home. However, the way home was to finish the ride. I rode for long stretches by myself sometimes, in the boring, flat, and windy nowhere. If there were any 66-milers, they were far ahead and gone. I saw mostly 100-milers who popped in and out of my route: they would pass me and then detour, come back in, repeat. I pushed as hard as I could toward the end because I wanted to go home so badly. The whole ride took me seven hours. After I finished, I rode at a snail's pace back home. Sometimes I walked. At home, I ate a bowl of vegetables, drank some water, and fell asleep for the next 10 hours. The next day I ached.

Before I did the ride, I didn't think it was a big deal. I've nearly ridden this amount, what was 26 more miles? While I was doing the ride, I thought I was nuts and kept asking why the heck I signed up for it. After the ride was over and I was telling people about it, I became proud of the accomplishment. It was a notable thing to do 66+ miles on a bike...up hills, on bumpy roads, and in wind. Every time I look at the map, I feel proud. That ride was terrible and I made it through. I look at the route for the Tour now and shudder - 104 miles? No way! However, I think I'll sign up for it next year. Again, I just want to see if I can do it. In the meantime, though, I need to get a road bike and improve my time. I proved I can do 66 miles, but in order to do 104, I need to be faster and better trained for hills. I'm hoping that with an increased paycheck, I'll be able to better outfit myself for longer, more difficult rides.

I've included a link to the route below (which will also give you all my ride stats) as well as my victory photo.

Route: http://ridewithgps.com/trips/7036226

66 Miles

Two weekends ago a friend invited me to ride 26 miles with a group of people on small folding bikes. They were preparing for El Tour de Tucson - our city's annual cycling race. It was fun - fun to ride that much and fun to see different parts of the city. Then last weekend, I decided I wanted to ride more, so I went for a 40 mile ride. When I came home, I looked up rides in Tucson to see if there were more people I could join. I found a training ride for the Tour put on by the Greater Arizona Bicycling Association (GABA) happening this weekend. They had three options: 35 miles, 66 miles, and 101 miles. I thought I could do the 35 miles, but could I do 66? On Sunday (the day after I did 40 miles) I decided to ride the 35 mile route. It was challenging and there was definitely a heart-attack hill to climb, but it didn't kill me, so I signed up for the longer one.

Then the preparation and worry began. Let's be clear - I've never ridden 66 miles straight. I ride an average of 10 miles/hr (not very fast) and we have a total of 9 hours to complete the route. This includes bathroom breaks, bike maintenance time (if that should befall you), eating (stands are set up along the way), or changing clothes. Two and a half extra hours seems like plenty of leeway, but there were sections of my ride on Sunday where I was definitely going below my average; uphill I was practically crawling. I've got the back and forth volley going: Can I do this? Yes I can. But can I really? I want to do it. Icarus said the same thing.

Since I'm doing this ride (it isn't even a race), I even went out and bought some cycling shorts, knickers, and a jersey. I figured I should try to look like a cyclist, instead of wearing my oversized, $2.50 jeans from Goodwill and hiking shirt (which are both admittedly comfortable). My bike is a Trek hybrid - not even a road bike - so I'm hoping it can handle the trip as well.

I think the reason I'm doing this in the first place is because I have a competitiveness that comes out every so often. My coworker told me about a former resident and fellow who a few months ago had completed 70 miles on a bicycle. This girl can't be over five feet tall. She's a tiny thing that never exercised, wore only high heels and skirts, and had a long, blonde, wavy ponytail that swished around when she walked. She looked like a doll from the land of cupcakes. If she can do 70 miles, so can I.

On the other side of the coin, I also just like to push myself physically, because it feels good and I'm curious. I'll do something - like ride up a giant hill - and ask myself, "Can I do more? What would happen if I kept going?" There's also that awesome feeling of flying down a steep hill and leaning into a turn. Feeling fast is an adrenaline rush for me.

Right now, cycling and a little strength training is about all I can manage right now. It's cheap and I have to do it anyway, because I'm carless. However, I enjoy feeling competitive again, even if it's only against Yesterday Amy. It's a neat feeling to look back at a hill and say, "I just climbed that," or look at a map and see the distance I covered. Tomorrow is the day and I hope all goes well. I hope I can walk on Monday. I'll keep you posted.