There is a song with lyrics that say;
Keep me running, keep me moving,
keep me always on the go,
keep me making sure my footprints never show
But you keep me running
Keep me covering up my tracks
Keep me running so I’m always looking back
Always restless in my dreams
And trouble’s never too far behind it seems
Keep me running, keep me moving
keep me numb from head to toe
keep me hiding from where my past will never show
Its in reference to the past we continue to hide from, yet we keep running. I wonder if an adventure is taking me from my struggles, my disappointments only building confidence and good in me. When I look back its part of my life’s journey. Can you live a life you dream about, or are you stuck in the past? I find myself often remembering the things I did, and what it meant to me, how it has changed me. I want more, I’m never satisfied. So as I look to the future, I’m pleasantly optimistic, as long as I can get around that stone wall. The one which says I can’t, or I’m not allowed, can’t afford it. Sometimes you have to draw a line in the sand and take a step over it, all along knowing the fear and the joy it will bring. That thought, the adventure is what keeps me running, only my eyes fixed ahead of me looking forward. The tests of time create in me enduring strength and strong character.
What is the future then? Do I still dream? Yes. Dare I dream of things not attainable, of places, people and struggles. What if I’m disappointed? Will it all be worth it? Yes. I’ve learned that the struggles are just as valuable as the good times. The break downs, muggings, thefts, flat tires, broken spokes desperation, loneliness. The moments of an achieved climb, the views, sunsets, sunrises, warm generosity, wildlife. I watch in utter amazement and I don’t want it to end.
Keep me running, living for adventure, friendship and giving back.
Looking around the next corner. I read your face, the lines the smiles and wonder how you’re doing. Can I make you smile, look to the good things in life, and help you through the tough times? Can I build trust in you? Will you tell me your hopes and dreams? Will you want to keep in touch?
I walk away, turning back our eyes meet one last time. I look deep into your soul and a genuine smile comes, I promise to be in touch. Genuineness is loving, its kind and its often missing. As I ride on, my mind expresses my feelings and it keeps me smiling. I’m surprised once again, that such a meeting could lead to the good in people. It drives me for more encounters, and each one is different.
My bike has taken me places, and I often wonder at how different life must be. Could I live here? I have traveled by run down homes, the ones with old cars in the yard, the people have little, you can see it in the clothes they wear and their possessions. I have gone by long lanes with lights leading to massive homes and expensive cars in the driveway. The reception is different depending on who I approach. Success builds confidence, yet it doesn’t guarantee happiness. When given the chance, I have found a smile breaks down barriers. How you approach may be different but building trust is the same.
I sat down, in McDonald’s and a gentleman approached, and sat next to me. After the small talk he began to tell me about his wife. He dearly missed her, and I sensed the loss in his expression. I smiled and shared my limited life experience, but it was enough to comfort and he talked for a long while.
As I rode in to the southern town, I met a girl a bit younger than me. We connected, so much so that we stayed in touch and she told me how she was chastised for speaking to a stranger coming through town.
I met a grandmother who approached to find out about me. He husband recently had died and she encouraged me to get a government grant and write a book. Something they had done for a living.
Washing my clothes in the laundry mat one more time I struck a conversation with the young lady there beside me. She invited me home, fed me and let me spend the night.
A waitress full of questions about my ride across America invited me home and she and a friend drove me all around Glacier Park.
Pulling up to a convenience store in the middle of Oklahoma, a gentleman and young boy walked up and invited me home. He was a rancher, and cooked steak and a salad better than I have ever experienced.
The next day they gave me a tour all over the old indian town.
Riding in the middle of Washington DC, I was stopped at a traffic light and a man in a suit approached and asked if I had a place for the night. No, and he invited me home.
Coming down a hill, I heard a twang, and looked down at my rear rim. Sure enough I broke another spoke. I pulled into a drive way where I saw a mobile-home. The Mexican gentleman offered me a place to stay for the night outside on his couch next to the Rio Grand River. We ate spicy food of his culture barely understanding each other.
I was invited home once again, and over supper the couple expressed how they enjoyed poetry and actually recited it. Their youngest 6-year-old son eloquently shared one right in front of me.
How did I get here? That thought has often crossed my mind. You see it’s that human spirit, the desire to connect, to share to give back. We are social people, and love to share ourselves when the chance arrives. To experience this on a daily basis unplanned is life changing.
So keep me running, keep me moving, keep me always on the go, never turning back instead looking forward to the future.