I scoured the website and also the Facebook page for directions to the event. To me, it was all Nepali logic. For anyone who has traveled here, you can understand. I had been messaging with the race promoter of the Kathmandu Mountain Bike Festival for several days. He emphatically conveyed that there were directions on both sites. Likely, but I

couldn’t find them. There was also a 14km group ride up to the event, leaving from Thamel in what was now 15 minutes. Trying to navigate this touristy and congested area of narrow roads, horns, and zooming motorbikes is like trying to solve a jumbled Rubik’s Cube while drunk. There likely is a pattern, a logic, a semblance of rationality and reason, but it evaded me. I very much wanted to experience this event. I had even planned to compete in it. In fact, it was the final slice of the plans I had made for my Himalayan journey, some 10 months prior. I was getting frustrated and the hotel staff could offer no assistance. On cue, in rolled the Nepali women’s national mountain bike champion to my hotel lobby. My hotel…out of all the hotels in Kathmandu (there are thousands). Her name is Laxmi Magar. She is barely 5 feet tall with an athletic build and a beaming smile. She was just off her 2^nd place finish in the grueling 9 day international stage race in the Annapurna range called the “Yak Attack”. “You go to Kathmandu Mountain Bike Fest today?” she politely inquired in her soft spoken, near perfect English. “I’m going there now. You can cycle with me.” “That’s so random…” I would have mused if this had happened to me one year ago. I now know that the idea of random is an illusion. A fallacy. These random events have been happening to me too frequently to attach such a label or mentality, but it is only recently that I have peeled back the shutters of my awareness to them. We are a product of the choices that we make and are shaped by the outcomes and connections that come from them.

There is an ancient prayer that resonates with me.  “Give me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” One year ago, I was in Ecuador with 3 close friends, climbing a mountain. It was foreshadowing the mountain in my life that I would need to climb upon my return. My life was changing. This was particularly challenging for me because as a type A, control freak who could will myself through any situation regardless of how daunting or grim, I was powerless to stop the unavoidable avalanche that was coming. 2016, my 42nd year, has indeed been one of many changes, most of which were beyond my control. It was the hardest and most emotionally savage, shit show year of my life.  It stripped me of everything that I knew and could confidently stand on, and threw me into a drunken tailspin.  I was lost. I was raw.  The end of the company I founded after 10 years. A failed relationship. Losing several dear friends to cancer and learning of another currently in that battle. Grief, sadness, loss, frustration, and even a little anger…but when we harbor bitterness and anger, happiness will dock elsewhere. I’ve replayed these situations in my mind. Frame by frame.  Dozens of scenarios.  Could I have done something differently?  Yes, of course.  Would it have changed the outcome?  Unlikely. Do I feel a loss, a void?  Yes, absolutely.  But I have opened my heart and my mind to healing and new perspectives, filling that void with other things that serve me. With this adversity, came the opportunity for growth, and yes, this was an opportunity.  Emotional, psychological, and spiritual. A gift of time, to forge a new path.  I have gained perspective. I have learned empathy and embraced change. I have experienced a semblance of clarity and taken this opportunity, this gift, to experience life, deeper, fuller, and from a different vantage point. A change. Free of judgment and regret, knowing that everyone has a story, a path, with choices to make.

Brene Brown, one of my favorite authors, wrote in her book, Rising Strong, “Hurt happens. And it happens to every single one of us without exception. The only decision we get to make is what role we’ll play in our own lives:  do we want to write the story or do we want to hand that power over to someone else?  Choosing to write our own story means getting uncomfortable; it’s choosing courage over comfort.”

“You’re so lucky. You get to ride your bicycle through amazing places around the world.”  I have heard this far too many times. I understand it, yet it still frustrates me. I didn’t win the lottery or beat stage IV cancer, yet I still struggle to keep my adversity in perspective.  Life has thrown me a series of curveballs (in some cases simultaneously). I could have watched them whiz by my head, but I chose to take a swing.

Am I lucky? I suppose it’s a matter of perspective really. My dad taught me at an early age to be thankful for what I  have. “Someone always has it worse than you,” he would tell me. I didn’t understand it when I was younger, but I do now. We don’t get to choose what happens to us but we can choose how we deal with it. How we respond. We all have that choice.  In life, we are dealt a hand.  Some better than others.  What will you do?  Will you fold or will you ante up?  Me personally…I’m all in.  I have chosen to be open, and to say “yes” when previously in my life, I would have instinctively said “no”, likely driven by fear. I have made choices that have taken courage and are by no means rooted in any kind of luck.  As a result, along this journey, this story, I have made amazing connections and been presented with tremendous opportunities. Last week, I was randomly asked to be part of a 30 person yoga promotional video for Nepali tourism whereby we shut down an entire street in the middle of the day in Kathmandu. Another time I was interviewed by an Indian radio show at the top of a mountain pass. I have recently been approached by a Nepali man to co-found an adventure tour company…just to name a few. I have made amazing connections with new friends from all over the world while in Madagascar, India, and Nepal. Some of them were brief. Others are lasting that will stay with me my entire life. I have inspired happiness in people whom I’ve touched, if only in passing, and who in turn have inspired that happiness in me. I made a choice. I am in my place. Everything is as it should be.

Similar to when I summited the final pass before departing India, as I was descending the final pass into Kathmandu, I was stricken with overwhelming emotion, to the extent that I had to get off my bike and just be with it. I was reminded of all the people and places that I have seen, both in India and Nepal.   I knew that this was the end of this chapter that I was writing. Ten months ago, I had diligently planned and researched this route. I had read guidebooks. I had connected with people from all over the world, inquiring about different aspects of this route from Leh to Kathmandu. I examined weather patterns and road conditions. I modified my bicycle, changed tires, installed a front shock, added gear and got rid of others. It was way beyond my comfort zone. I arrived back in Kathmandu, nearly 2 months to the day that I departed, having  experienced higher highs than at any other time in my life. Ear to ear.

I have now been cycling through the world for nearly 6 months. This experience won’t change me, I foolishly told myself. Little did I know that when I set out it would have a tremendously profound impact on my life and teach me things about myself that I never deemed possible. You don’t know what you don’t know as they say. It began with my tour through Africa and Madagascar and has spiraled precipitously upward since. I am more calm, more patient, more understanding and less judgmental. When I get knocked down, I don’t fall as far.  Sure, I have moments of darkness, but they are fewer and further between. It’s ok to visit those places, however. Recognize them and witness, but don’t live there. I’m definitely feeling closer to the true me than I have at any point in my life. Would I have gotten to this place of clarity, this perspective, without the setbacks of the prior year?  Maybe, but it would have taken longer.  Things happen for a reason and there is no randomness.

I know now that I am enough. I have enough. As an American, WE have enough. It isn’t about more stuff. It just isn’t. It’s about human connection. I took a yoga class while in Rishikesh, India. The instructor said something to the class that has stuck with me every day since. He spoke of 3 renunciations that we must do in order to make room in our lives to achieve true happiness: Physical, mental, and emotional. Physical items provide only fleeting glimpses of happiness so do not attach any value to them. They will leave you feeling empty, yearning for the next fix.  Free yourself of mental negativity, cognitive dissonance and other things that clog up your mind and prevent happiness from having the space to flourish. Finally, make peace with and release the emotional scars and traumas from the past so you have space for new highs.

I made it to the Kathmandu Mountain Bike Festival. While there I met more people who have brought me joy and inspired me, and provided further confirmation that I am on the right path. As my time in Nepal and the Himalayas nears an end, I am making another choice. To go forward. To explore more of this world, more of myself and see what comes.  There is beauty everywhere.  All you have to do is look.  So be open.  Put away your fear and self doubt. They won’t serve you.  Embrace uncertainty and your own vulnerability. Don’t audit life and remember, opportunities are never lost. Someone will take the ones we miss. There truly is no randomness in life. It is filled with connections…beautiful, wonderful connections…so always say yes.  Namaste

 

Some of my favorite memories over the past 2 months…and none of them have anything to do with climbing mountains, nor were they random.  The human experience.