When I Flew Home.

by paulpaino

So it has been a while. I understand that, and apologize. The monotony of work, school, and “life as I know it” is slowly eating away at me. In my spare time I have been finding myself browsing through pictures from this summer, sending seemingly meaningless messages to my friends that are now all across the country, and missing being someplace else. But that’s alright.

I’m going to cheat on this post, and give you a little gem that I initially wanted to keep for myself, but thought you might enjoy – or not, whatever. This was my last “official” Bike & Build entry in my journal that I wrote during my plane ride home. Maybe it will mean something to you:

“Well, here we are. After 4,300 miles, 62 days on a bike, and 16 days building houses, I’m on a plane with a small feeling that all we just worked so hard to achieve is undone after two plane rides.

Of course, a significant part of me is excited to get home, see my family and friends, and get back to my life, but there’s another part of me that has resolved that this is my life. There’s little to get back to. I’m sure I’ll have my moments when school and “business as usual” won’t be enough, and I’ll have to ride my bike down a busy street, and then wish I had my friends to discuss the excitement with later.

Maybe that’s how we got so close. We all suffered together. We climbed mountains, rode into headwinds that were enough to make us cry, and stared down miles and miles of open road. We worried together when hearing about Angela, and held each other just that much closer at the end of the day. We descended through canyons that made us feel invincible, and then got tossed to the ground in a place called “reality” when we heard about Paige. We remembered that the danger is real. We ran from the East and chased down the West, and having the wind at our backs is not a feeling we were soon acclimated to. If the wind wasn’t fighting us, we weren’t going in the right direction.

But above all else, no matter what we did, we did it together.

In some ways we looked more like the church than the church does. We had a cause – that is already more than some churches – we had a goal, and we had a plan.

Too many churches simply exist with no cause, goal, or plan. In some cases the only thing missing is execution of the plan. If I walk away with anything from this trip it would be to quit talking and just do. We spend way too much time talking and planning.

The world is already back to it’s massive self. We just flew over Des Moines, New Mexico and the volcano we climbed when we left there. It took us over a month to get to the coast from there, and we have only been flying for two hours. I still rode my bike there.

(Going through security at the airport today I was unfortunately reminded of how paranoid we all are of each other. Our fear has made us feel threatened, and sparks violence in some of the most unnecessary situations. We live scared, and that’s a sad fact.)

I’m not positive how I want to answer the question, “How was your trip?” Responding with, “Good.” is far too pale an answer. For most people I will respond by telling them it was unbelievable or amazing or use some other very large and descriptive word like that. But for few, those who really want to know, I’ll sit them down and tell them stories. Unfortunately for them the stories I tell  won’t contain facts that they would find interesting. They would be stories about the people. Both those that I rode with, and those that I met along the way. All of us riders received cookies with a “thank you” note from Brad’s mom, saying that it was because of us that Brad’s summer was so great. I think she had the right idea.

I have a story to tell. I like to think it’s a pretty good one, but I’m already thinking about what’s next. Maybe something aquatic.”

So there you have it, the last entry I have put down on paper as it relates to Bike & Build. There will be more to come, I promise. Maybe next time it won’t be so long between updates.

Till then,

Paul

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