When I was living in Canada a good friend of mine announced that his friend, Marko, would be cycling from west coast to east coast with a deadline of three months. That journey would be from Vancouver, British Columbia, to Toronto, Ontario. The land border between Canada and the USA is 8,891 kilometres, which would mean he would have to cycle over 100 kilometres a day. Or something like that.
With his work visa rapidly running out, there could be a chance he would be cycling across the country illegally if he didn’t make his flight from Toronto in time. But despite everyone’s concerns, he set out to cycle across the second largest country in the world. He checked in everyday to let everyone know he was still alive. His safety was the biggest concern. But he called undeterred, even after spending the night alone in an abandoned warehouse in Crowsnest Pass, Alberta. But by the time he reached Coalhurst, he was exhausted. He sold his bike and got a bus to Lethbridge, where he worked bussing tables until he had to be in Toronto.
At the time we all thought he was crazy. He had a bunch of luggage that needed to find its way back to his homeland of Croatia, but that didn’t bother him so much. He was so focussed on his trip that he let his friends deal with it. The only thing he had to do was cycle, eat, use the bathroom and sleep everyday. The harsh, isolating expanse of the Canadian highway hadn’t even factored into his plans. He would be free.
I think about that story often.
We still joke about it now. How he had these grand plans to cycle from coast to coast. Three months isn’t even enough time for the Terminator to cycle across Canada, and he can time travel. See, there was no way he would ever finish the trip. I think deep down he knew that, but he wanted to try. He wasn’t afraid of failing. He still cycled across one province and halfway through the next. I won’t cycle anywhere near that distance in my entire life. But he did. And he did it alone.
What I admire the most about Marko’s journey was that he knew when to stop. He didn’t give up. He simply couldn’t cycle the insane distance in the time frame he’d established. He realised it was going to be impossible for him to do. He knew he had reached his limit, so he stopped. He didn’t care that people might label it a failure, because he didn’t fail at anything.
A lot of my downfalls in life have been because of my refusal to admit failure. I just won’t do it. I will keep going even when I’m unhappy. This stubbornness has seen me stay in relationships that far exceeded their sell-by-date. It saw me working for one company for five years and quitting two months before they went bankrupt. Heck, I lived in Canada for longer than I could mentally cope. I never used to be like that. I would walk away if my work load was too much or if I was unhappy with who I was dating. I could tell myself enough was enough. I would follow my gut. That’s how I used to be.
I used to be like Marko.