Musings from a Type-A Nomad: Part I
This is part one of a series by our Senior Editor, Addie Levinsky, about her current experience living on the road.
Words & photos (unless noted) by Addie Levinsky
NOTE: Apologies for the low quality photos. My laptop was stolen shortly after I wrote this, and I lost the original photos.
Day 1-2: Boulder, CO>Las Vegas, NV>Santa Barbara, CA (shout out to Handlebar Coffee Roasters where this was written!)
I woke up this morning engulfed in the clouds, sitting a mere 1,000 feet above sea level on Gibraltar Road in Santa Barbara, California. And the night prior I, very graciously, accepted a futon to crash on in Las Vegas with two lovely climbers (yes, really, Las Vegas. The gambling may be good, but the climbing is even better) after a straight shot from Denver. I feel surprisingly settled, despite the inevitable disorientation that comes from living, and being on the road.
This isn’t the first time I’ve hit the road with nothing but the essentials (ie: bicycle, ukulele, a bottle of Bulleit Bourbon, stack of books, Aeropress+coffee), but this is the first time the agenda isn’t cut & dry. There’s no training plan, there’s no work schedule. It’s a journey of self care, as cliche as it sounds. More specifically, it’s about navigating the two overbearing traits I possess: Type-A personality and Nomadic tendencies. It’s like being pulled in two different directions all the time.
In the last month, I quit bike racing and left one of my jobs in Boulder. The latter was not particularly special (it was unfulfilling in every capacity), but quitting bike racing was like simultaneously losing my identity. My Type-A head was in the game, but my Nomadic heart was not.
This time, it still feels like home - whether on a bike or in my HotelElement. That’s the beauty of road miles, they have this special way of giving you refuge in the unknown. It feeds the need to be spontaneous and comforted.
With that, I’m going to continue (obsessively) not knowing what’s next. I think I will go ride my bike - with no route, no Garmin, no rules (thanks Jen!), and a whole lot of stoke.
Stay tuned for more fanatically aloof thoughts & adventures from the West Coast and beyond.