I’ve been feeling a bit disappointed lately. It’s not always easy to admit, especially when so much of what I share here is about finding joy in movement, in resilience, in adventure. But I’d made some big plans for this summer—hikes I wanted to check off, trails I’ve been dreaming about, and video projects I was excited to create.
Instead, my body had other ideas.
This year was meant to be a season of growth and pushing outward, but it’s turning out to be a lesson in patience and listening inward. I’ve been managing injuries in both feet. One, a case of Achilles tendinitis, is thankfully starting to feel much better—there’s real improvement there, and I’m grateful. But the plantar fasciitis in the other foot has been getting worse. It feels okay while I’m on the bike, which has allowed me to keep some sense of momentum. But throughout the day, it becomes a frustrating, painful limitation—tightening its grip on even simple movements like walking across the room.
That tug-of-war between “healing” and “doing” is something I know many of you understand. We often confuse feeling a bit better with being fully recovered, and push ourselves too soon. I’ve done it before. I’m trying not to do it now.
So instead of grinding hikes or traveling off-grid like I’d hoped, I’m turning my attention to what I can do—and that’s the bike.
I’ve just entered Week 2 of my 6-week plan to reach 50 kilometers a day on the bike. This program I built is meant for riders over 50 (I’m 57 myself), and it’s something I deeply believe in. Not just for fitness, but for purpose, discipline, and the kind of mental strength that comes from working through setbacks. Getting back in the saddle each day has been a gift—it gives me focus, momentum, and a sense of control in a time where so much else feels unsteady.
That said, even here there are hurdles. My new ultralight cycling helmet, which weighs only 260 grams, has been aggravating my neck to the point of severe pain. Who would’ve thought something so light could be such a heavy burden? But that’s the reality when your body is fighting fatigue and inflammation. Even the gear can become part of the challenge.
And then—layered over all of this—came the passing of my father this week. A weight that’s harder to name. The grief has added another dimension to this healing season, and it’s taken all my energy just to keep going. But I am going. I’m not giving up. I’m choosing to show up for myself each day, in whatever form that takes.
Because no matter what shape my body’s in, I am still an adventurer.
At the heart of my life—and of Time to Xplore—are three core ways I connect to the world:
- Cycling and bikepacking
- Hiking and exploring trails
- Overlanding and the freedom of the open road
Right now, cycling is the only one I am committed to—but that’s enough. That’s where the energy is flowing, and I’ll ride that wave for as long as I can.
Some days, adventure looks like summiting peaks. Other days, it’s just getting on the bike and pedaling through the fog of grief and pain. Either way, I’m moving forward.
If you’ve been feeling stuck, limited, or like life has pulled the rug out from under your best intentions—please know, you’re not alone. Healing isn’t linear. Progress doesn’t always look like distance. And adventure? It doesn’t always come with a perfect view or a summit selfie. Sometimes, it’s just in the effort. The showing up.
Thank you for being here with me—through the detours, the rough roads, and the quiet moments in between.
More rides. More stories. More trail dust soon.
— Rick