Success Here Will Allow Me To Endure Mediocrity

Jeddediah Smith Campground
June 8, `80


We've been traveling short distances. Presently, Lisa, Jade, and I
are camped at Jeddediah Smith campground, some ten miles northeast of
Crescent City. We're off our route' so this state park in the northern
hills of California, with its beautiful river running through it, is
all ours. I tried fishing this morning, but no luck. Tonight I'll try
again, this time with salmon eggs for bait. So far it has been good. I
just hope it stays that way. My knee feels good, probably because I
haven't used it much. When we leave this campground, either today or
tomorrow, my knee will get tested. Right now, Lisa and Jade are in
town picking up the money they sent for. It's been really good
traveling with them. We shared a bottle of wine last night.

This whole trip has been good, mainly because of no pressure. When my
knee got bad, I wanted to call it quits. I didn't, but having made
that decision, I could then really enjoy my Pacific coast down
time—something I could never have done on previous bicycle trips.
Since I no longer had to worry about getting my eighty miles a day in,
I worried instead about what I was going to do with the rest of my life.

Yes, I'm getting older. Yes, I'm noticing it a lot more, and yes, I
acknowledge that age is going to be a determining factor in my future
plans. This is not totally negative, a limitation, yes, but not
totally negative. A long time ago, I realized that learning and
increased understanding were the only things that made me happy. Now
I'm beginning to see where that kind of thinking has brought me. If
all you want to do in life is "drink from the well," it's a pretty
safe bet that not much is going to get accomplished. I might gain
enough understanding to allow me some happiness and freedom, but I now
know that however much understanding I acquire, it won't be totally
satisfying.

Change is constant, and in terms of age, irreversible. Growth demands
flexibility, and the aging process does not accommodate that kind of
change very well. I hope things get better. I hope I continue to
expand my horizons, but a personal horizon, when viewed
objectively—bares no fruit. Few comforts will surround my twilight
hours. With no money, prestige, or honor—the stuff of a "good eulogy,"
a "gentle passing into the night," if indeed that is even possible,
will not be easy. (For the life of me, I don't know why Dylan Thomas
preferred rage.) So, here's the question, when faced with all these
discouraging and disappointing scenarios, what am I to do? I must
"retool." I must relearn the value of personal success. I must relearn
how to appreciate the "small stuff." I must learn how to stay in tune
with realizable dreams, with friends I have not yet met, and with
music I have not yet heard. Success here, I believe, will allow me to
endure mediocrity, as it allows me to savior the "small stuff." Age
has a way of shoving reality down your throat. I guess that's why
growing old is so difficult.