“How long do you think it’ll take me to get to Copenhagen by bike?” I ask my brother. It’s Day 2 post-break up, and I just want to get away from it all. But instead of hiding from the world, here I am, sitting in the back row of a concert with my brother. But that’s not stopping me from daydreaming about escaping. “Do you think three weeks is enough?”
Maxi looks at me, one eyebrow raised. “Three weeks? That’s enough time for you to get to the Nordkapp!”
I stare back at him. “What’s the Nordkapp?”
He laughs. “The lack of geographical knowledge for someone as well-traveled as you never ceases to amaze me.” Pulling out his phone, Maxi shows me a map of Europe. His fingers come to rest pointing at a single island at the tip of Norway, three little tongues of land sticking out into the Arctic Atlantic. One of them sticks out a fraction further than the rest.
We ask Google how many kilometers it would be to get to there by car. It spits out a number bigger, grander and more intimidating than anything I have ever seen before. Even though I passed the physical chemistry exam during my biochemistry studies. I’ve seen Avogadro’s constant.
“My bike isn’t good enough for that!” I whisper nervously. Maxi shrugs. “Of course it is!” We turn to face the stage. I can feel the excitement, the rush of adrenaline kicking in at the idea of escaping this wretched state of being. I can feel the nerve endings in the tip of my fingers tingling.
“Well, then, I’m not good enough!” I wheeze. The people sitting behind us are shushing us to be quiet. My brother smiles at me, patting my knee gently. He’s just trying to help me feel better. Break-ups are hard, and not just on the ones going through them – also on the ones trying to help them through it.
I laugh again. These ideas are insane, but they’re helping me feel better, at least for the moment. It’s not like I’m going to do any of it anyway. I don’t act out wild daydreams. I don’t make rash decisions.
And I most certainly don’t go on long-distance solo bike tours.
Or do I?