5 Things I Learned Cycling Up Japan

Two weeks have passed since I completed the journey, two weeks of recovery and reflection. My legs are feeling good, my tan lines are fading a bit, and the magnitude has begun to set in. The space to decompress, to recover, has been magical and has me feeling full of energy and excitement for what is next. I have been asked the question if I would do it again, and my answer is probably not. There is another challenge out there that I will undertake in time, but for now, I am grateful to have completed the journey and satisfied with the effort that went into it.

With the space to reflect, here are a few lessons that the journey taught me or just reminded me of. In no particular order.

I can do hard things, or big, audacious goals get my blood flowing

I am not sure which one is more accurate, but they are so related that they appear together. We each have the capacity to do so much. With planning and preparation, there is little that isn't possible, especially when the goal is internal. The journey from Nagasaki to Wakkanai is long, but knowing that I had the goal of getting all the way through was a constant push to do the next pedal stroke, to wake up in the morning, no matter how I felt, to ride a bit closer to the end. Over the 26 days of riding, progress happened incrementally, but in the end, I had completed over 2400 km of riding.

I have jokingly called this a mid-life crisis ride, but my wife more astutely pointed out that I just like having big goals to help lead the way. Rules are something that I appreciate because they help put up the guardrails of what I am going to do. For this summer, and in the months of planning and training leading up to this, the guardrail was the ride. I was going to get through it no matter what. Along the way, there was opportunity cost (spending the summer in Japan instead of China or the U.S.), financial cost (learning that my bike had a crack in it "required" the purchase of a new one) and time cost (training). These costs accumulated, but when done in service of the big goal, they each made sense. These guardrails are something I appreciate and look forward to. Now that this goal has been accomplished, I am not sure what's next, but something will take its place to help me make decisions and point me towards what's next.

A smile or a thumbs up costs nothing, and can mean everything

As the trip went on, I gained a greater and greater appreciation for the kind words or gestures from strangers. The conversations I had along the way were energizing, the chance to share my journey and learn what journey others were on helped lift me up on difficult days and gave me a little extra speed on others. In my head, I called it the society of two wheels. There were not that many cyclists that I saw making long journeys, but plenty of motorcyclists. In Hokkaido, especially, I began to receive waves and thumbs up from motorcyclists. These had a tremendous impact on my mood, leaving me smiling for the next stretch and looking for opportunities to share the same as I passed (in the opposite direction) others who were seeing the country.

This community had no formal structure, and other than the fact that we were passing each other, there was nothing that linked us. The highlight of this impromptu community happened right at the end, while at Cape Soya. When I arrived, there was another cyclist there. He was quick to offer to take my photo, and we spent about 15 minutes sharing stories about our respective journeys. While there, we see someone approaching the cape on foot. I had passed this guy a few times in the last days of the ride, offering words of encouragement and a thumbs up each time. His arrival gave me the chance to confirm what I had suspected, that he had completed the journey that I just did, but on foot. He was running and walking for nearly 70 days to cover the distance, averaging almost 50 km a day and going through 6 pairs of shoes. We shared our contact information and then celebrated the achievement. While it was great doing the ride on my own, these small moments of connection were some of the most memorable moments of the trip.

We are each in our own race

This kind of combines the other two lessons. The way that I got through the journey was my own. There was no one keeping track of how far I went each day, and there was nothing to keep me from catching a train or a ferry when I needed to. These kept me going and were a reminder that comparison is futile. The fact that others have done more climbing or more distance in their own journey across Japan, or in the case of the runner, doing it on foot in no way, shape or form, takes away from my journey. This is something I spent a lot of time thinking about on the trip, reminding myself that the pace at which I was going or the distance I was covering was arbitrary. I have often shown the need to be right in the past, sure that my answer was correct. Over this trip, I had a chance to step back and focus solely on what I was doing, knowing that there was no right way to do it. Looking back, I will use the journey as a reminder when I know that I am imposing my own feelings of judgment about the right way to do something on others. It won't always work, but I am working on it, in a race of my own if you will, to show more grace.

Focus is essential

If there was one theme of the ride and my writing about it, it is that there was one thing I got to do each day. I woke up focused on the ride. When the ride was over for the day, it was time for me to recover in preparation for the next day. It was the one thing, the focus for each day. To accomplish something big, or even something smaller, one thing at a time will be more effective than multitasking.

“He who has a hundred miles to walk should reckon ninety as half the journey,” he replied, quoting the [Japanese] proverb. — Eugen Herrigel

This quotation was so apt to the journey I was on and life in general. Planning, training and completing the ride was a 6-month journey. The planning and training were easy, not every single day, but compared to actually being on the road, it was easy. It was also about 80% of the time since I had the idea to do this ride. The last 20% was way over half of the effort. Each day on the road felt the same. It didn't matter how long the day's ride was; the last hour was where the physical and mental challenge happened. The first hour flew by, and the last hour felt like more than half of the journey.

Getting started is often the easy part. For physical challenges, that is when we are fresh, and the adrenaline of beginning can get us through a lot. As you fatigue, the last part, getting to the finish line, is the challenge. This is as true for projects as it is for physical challenges. Yes, it can be a challenge to get going on something, but getting it to the finish line is not only where the greatest challenge lies, but also where you learn the most about yourself. The days when I just didn't want to be on the road, when I had to take some extra breaks to refresh and refuel, are some of the days that I will be most proud of looking back. Knowing that I pushed through and made it will be a lesson that lasts long past the end of this journey.

Importance of warming up

Bonus 6th...this one feels like it contradicts the one before and is something that I probably should have already known, but despite the years I spent coaching and as an athlete, I am not sure I really realized how beneficial and important the warmup can be. After the first few days of riding, I began to feel the stiffness, tightness and soreness in my body as I began each day. Starting off easy, building into the day worked to get this out of my system and into the groove for the day. Knowing that the first 20-30 minutes wouldn't be great was a reminder to slow down and take the time to get into the rhythm each day. I have been telling my swimmers that a warmup is necessary for years, but I realized on this trip that I never really knew the difference in feeling until now.

Conclusion

When I first moved overseas, I discovered Top Gear, a British Motoring Show. My favorite episodes are when the hosts were given some amount of money to choose a car for challenges in a different locale that was part travel show, part car review. In one particular episode, one of the hosts not only fell in love with their car for the trip, but went through the time, effort and cost to bring it back to England with them. As the trip in Japan went on, I couldn't help but feel the same way about my bike. It was the perfect vehicle for this trip. Comfortable and fast enough to make great progress each day, but more than that, it was so reliable. It was a joy to be on, and I came to appreciate the sounds, the way it would respond to my efforts as we made our way down the road.

So there you go, some lessons from the road. It was a tremendous trip that I will carry with me for a long time. These lessons, the memories of tunnels, convenient stores, great meals, wonderful roads, kind people, and so many other things in Japan, made it worth it and matched the experience I was hoping to have.

I couldn't finish this last post about the ride without some numbers.

Total Distance: 2254 km (1400.9 miles)

Distance Average Per Day: 86.7 km (53.9 miles)

Longest Single Day ride: 189 km (117.5 miles)

Hours spent Cycling: 5992.76 minutes or 99.88 hours

Estimated Pedal Strokes: 449457 (based on a very rough estimate of 75/minute)

Movement Calories Burned (as measured by Apple Watch): 77932

Average Daily Movement Calories Burned (as measured by Apple Watch): 2886

Largest Single Day Movement Calories Burned (as measured by Apple Watch): 5944

Total Elevation Climbed: 12616 m (41393 feet)

Number of Mount Everest Climbs: 1.43

Most Elevation Climbed on One Day: 980 m (3215 feet)

Total Convenience Stores: 51

Total Tunnels: 132

Average Speed: 22.57 km/hour (14 miles per hour)

Total Cost: $4277, including hotels, meals, flights and all transportation on the days of the ride

Cost Per Day: $158.39

Smiles: Too many to count