07-04-2024
David Hummels recently finished a cross-country cycling trip. As America commemorates its independence today, here is his recap of the coast-to-coast journey.
This summer I wrapped up my sabbatical transition from dean to faculty, and fulfilled a life-long dream by biking 3,400 miles through 15 states (and over too many mountains!) from Los Angeles to Boston. We averaged 85 miles a day through rain, sun, wind and heat, so…many*…flat…tires and, ahem, tender sit bones. It challenged me profoundly but gave me time and space to learn, and to experience people and places I will never forget.
It’s a big country, and there is beauty and history unique to each part. The breathtaking desolation of an endless New Mexican desert, the rolling hills of lush Missouri farmland, hand-built stone houses standing resolute in Kansan fields, a New York skyline gleaming next to open water. A bike is nearly the perfect way to take it all in: sufficiently mobile to cover a lot of ground; slow enough that you can see detail; under your own power so your legs and heart absorb the immensity and the unalloyed joy of it.
We rode through depopulated parts of the country — places where the road infrastructure still visits, but the traffic does not. We saw the wreckage that leaves in its wake, as well as many small towns that somehow remain vibrant, with folks proud to share the history of the people in that little place. The economist in me wondered…how do you maintain a sense of community and purpose when the economic geography of density is against you and the young people move away?
The trip reinforced my deeply held belief: We thrive when we take on challenges where the possibility of failure is very real, where diligent preparation is necessary but not sufficient to the task. A day after I learned that my older brother had died of cancer, I faced the hardest ride of my life. Riding 115 miles through the Arizona desert, along a stupidly dangerous highway, fighting heat and high winds and long climbs and dehydration…I wanted so very much to quit.
But I kept grinding and finally made it to the hotel, exhausted to my core. Then I woke the next morning barely able to walk, and did it all over again. And again. And again. And in doing that, gained confidence in my ability to do a lot more than bike across the country.
Grinding is easier when you do it with the right people, and when you focus. No matter how strong you are, there are days when you are weak. I am so grateful to my fellow riders for letting me grab a wheel and a laugh, and to family and friends who encouraged me when I needed it most.
Modern life provides a cornucopia of choice. Any movie, book, idea, cuisine, consumer item, experience we could want is at our fingertips, and we can spend our time and our wallets in a nearly infinite number of ways. We are golden retrievers facing a backyard full of squirrels, our attention yanked left right and center.
This trip enriched my life by removing choices. We had one job each day — to get up the road 85 miles, regardless of weather, terrain, or feelings. We ate food as fuel, not for taste. We washed clothes in the sink. We stopped watching TV or chasing political news on the internet. Taking away all the squirrels gives you the chance to see what you can accomplish with a purity of focus and purpose.
It may be hard to achieve the same focus going forward, short of checking myself into a monastery, but I will sharply reduce the number of things to which I devote my attention. If you are a little quiet and listen, you will learn what activities and what people will reward the energy you put into them.
I’m still listening.
*12 flat tires. Not that I was counting.
David Hummels is Distinguished Professor of Economics. His daily blog of the odyssey is available here.
