Below is an open letter I wrote to my friend John Mccormack, as he is currently biking across America. John’s current journey is a demonstration of growth and maturation, which is refreshing to see in a person navigating their mid-twenties. As time goes on, it is common for those around us to become stagnant in their lives, so it is refreshing to see someone close to me buck that trend and pursue a longtime goal of his. You can follow his journey on Instagram @Cedarknolls2…
Dear John,
We were sitting downstairs in our college house, back in Ewing, New Jersey, when you told me you wanted to run across America in the span of 2-3 months. I laughed at the outlandish comment, dismissing it until I realized you had actually been researching how this could be done. Question after question, my skepticism turned into excitement, and I became vested in your goal. I remember you returning from 16-18 mile runs, in the dead of winter, and we would brainstorm how your broke ass was going to fund this endeavor. We looked into sponsorships, GoFundMe, Kickstarter, and joked how my internship would pay for the trip…
*Up to our usual shenanigans, flying around TCNJ's campus...
Because you were a no frills kind of person, I became your hype man, introducing you as my “running across America” friend. I talked up OUR dream to those around us, so obviously I was disappointed when you injured yourself from logging hundreds of miles during your training. When you didn’t have work secured for that summer, I selfishly pushed the thought of running across America having not researched the route or ran a mile. Senior year at TCNJ came and went and so did the first couple years of working. The idea of running across America became just another grandiose idea, like many of my own plans that I talk up but fail to follow through on.
“Life” has a funny way of distracting us from living, and the daily routine enslaves our thinking, making it harder and harder to pursue our outlandish “non-traditional” goals. Unfortunately, your less than optimal work environment forced you into this exact mentality, and it slowly altered other aspects of your life. It wasn’t until things were so tumultuous, and you decided to resign, that I finally got my brother back.
However, you didn’t just resign form your job, you resigned from the day to day drudgery and entrapping mentality that began affecting your personality. We brainstormed job opportunities that were both relevant and completely outlandish, looked at various geographic locations, and most importantly, revived your plan to traverse the United States… By rejecting the blinders society forces on us, you freed your thinking and regained control of your life.
The last 3 years have been far from perfect, as we both have encountered more than our fair share of professional and personal road bumps. It prides me to see you stronger, more focused, and more mature from these experience. I am 27, and in September, you will be too. And though both of our futures are more uncertain than ever, one thing is certain: no one can accuse us of giving up our dreams. I may only be traveling for 3 months (instead of the 6 months I originally aspired to) and you may be biking (instead of running), but at least we are out pushing the boundaries of our comfort zone.
*John, Camilo, and myself dressed up at one of my get togethers
Since I wasn’t home before you left, here is my advice and my two cents…
This experiences you have, the people you encounter, and the places you visit on this trip will stay with you forever. Your mediocre cellphone pictures won’t do justice to the vast scenery and your slurred stories won’t recreate the true danger of your encounters. Even though most won’t care to know what your eyes have seen, those that do will cling to your every story, so make vivid memories. Bank every little detail your brain can handle because only then will you become wealthy. People can take your money, happiness, time and health, but nobody can take your memories and your experiences. So live in the here and now and remember all of it, remember
the ache in your legs
the the blues, whites, and greys of the sky, green of the trees and grass, browns of mountains, yellows and oranges of the sun, and black of nights
the cold rain falling on your face, forceful wind whistling in your ear, and scorching sun beating down on your skin
the funny accents you hear, weird things you see, rancid odors you smell, and delicious foods you taste
the awful days as much as the perfect days
This is your journey and yours alone. Find time for self-reflection. Appreciate the great days and take the crappy ones in stride. Remember to be thankful for your strong health, mental freedom, and financial stability that allow you to take on this incredible journey. Finally, know that I am here for you if you need anything at all, like how we’ve always been there for each other all these years. This letter doesn’t capture just how ecstatic I am for your journey, but given the thousands of miles between us, it’s the best I’ve got until me, you, and Steven reunite over some ethnic food.
Some lyrics I find relevant to your journey:
“We cross the country, in airplane with its wings on fire, hanging from the seatbelt signs.
That’s the one thing, there is no safety in desire. Preserving life is as good as dying.
And these could be the best or darkest days.” – So Close by Andrew McMahon
Love you Brotha,
Brian
P.S. Please spend the extra 10 seconds to take better pictures. WhatsApp video calling with our two schedules and time zones is far too difficult, so put your new Google phone to good use.
*The original housemates of 230 Inland Ave... John, Mike, Danny (the Groom), me, Rob, and Colin