God, I had no idea how old you could feel at 29. I’m in a hostel in Split, surrounded by Brits and Americans in their very early 20’s on Euro camp, while I’m here wearing my now-not-super-clean-anymore-and-also-kind- of-sober off the bike clothes and I’m suddenly feeling very aware of those 3 or 4 grey hairs I have on each temple. Of course it’s Saturday night, so the dorm smells like 50 shades of Axe, but at least the youngsters are on their way to the clubs. Should be fun when they get back.
As we speak, the finishers party in Çanakkale is in full swing. And also as we speak, I’m still trying to determine if I should go on. Those who are friends with me on Facebook already know that I called it quits early today, because I was struggling with motivation (as was already becoming apparent in my earlier blog posts). The thing is, I’m not having fun anymore, which I find a lot harder to swallow than legs too tired to climb up a mountain. The last three mornings I found it really hard to get myself back on the bike again, every morning a little more than the one before. This morning I could feel immediately that I would be a burden to Henning. I just couldn’t bring it up to be nice to myself or to him, and the bore of Croatian land really started to get to me. By the time we got to Senj around lunch, I told him I had no further aspirations for the day, I would probably roll into Split and stay there for the day. I don’t think he was very sad to part ways at that point and last time I checked he made it well into Bosnia. Job well done, I don’t think he would have made it that far if I had stuck around.
So I’m now at the point where I’m wondering if I can live with myself if I quit now, or do I find it worth it to push on. In the end the answer will most likely be determined by how I feel in the morning. Will I be exited to get back on the bike, I will push on. If not, I will make my arrangements to get back to Amsterdam.