"Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

call to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting 

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.” 

-Mary Oliver, Wild Geese

Brave

Brave. That's the word most use to describe my journey. Brave isn't how I feel on most days as I tackle another stretch of winding tar. Moments like yesterday when the winds almost blew me off my bike and into traffic. When the hills are endless. Moments like this morning when the skies are threatening and menacing, making me feel small and insignificant. When those back country roads seem to go on for eternity leading to nowhere and everywhere. 

This morning as I made my way through intersections of road signs, across bridges, beside cars and trucks whizzing by so close it makes my loaded bike sway in the already narrow shoulder. I don't feel brave then.

I feel it about 20 miles later, inside one of the many back o' the woods stores. The one that acts as grocer, gas station, restaurant and gathering place. I felt brave sitting in the warmth and smallness of it. Sipping my 99¢ coffee surrounded by old men with camouflage hats and flannel shirts. I felt brave when one of the women gave me 20 dollars for my courage.