100 Miles from Fullerton to San Diego
How I Abandoned Friendship for Low Self-Esteem
My last bike ride was massive. It was a ride from Fullerton, CA to San Diego, CA. A 100 mile ride down the coast. We tagged along with the cycling club a friend had connections to so we could use their pit stops and road permits to make the ride.
It was a fantastic ride. California is a beautiful place. It also gave me a new definition of “eventually” because that word is also another word for heartbreak. I remember hitting mile 80 and thinking, “you have got to be kidding me.”
I want to speak directly to this: I loved that time. I rode an incredible distance with my friends.
We rode hard until hitting the coast again. There is nothing like the air of the coast. It is as if the earth itself has let its shoulders down and finally had a good breath. It is a freshness found only in a few places.
If you can believe it, we laughed along the way down and all wore smiles of deep satisfaction after we finished. My friends and I got burgers after, and we ate big. Then I did something stupid.
I left. I left early.
I took the next train immediately after eating, even cutting our time short, so I could be available for a possible date with someone I was crushing on then.
One of the longest battles I’ve had in my life is the story of self-esteem. There wasn’t even a date planned. I was utterly compelled to be available for a possible date if she decided to text me back at all (AT ALL). That I would leave my dear, good friends, my comrades on wheels, for this is hilarious, cringe-worthy behavior to me now.
In maturity, I have come to thank regret for its clarity in knowing that I’ve grown.
More soon,
Trevor