"If you start out at the top of the Virginia Creeper Trail, its seventeen miles to the bottom, maybe one or two more to the bike rental shop. In the beginning, you don't even have to pedal your bike because the slope of the mountain carries you down, away from the clouds. As you ride through trees, over bridges, and along crystal-clear rivers, you are initially mesmerized by the colors of the outdoors, sounds of the rustling leaves and flowing waters of the mountain rivers. The wind rushing by your face feels pleasant and gives you a sense of energy. People surround you, and all you feel is happiness.
Eventually, you reach a point where you have to pedal a little bit on your own because the ground doesn't slope as sharply. The energy remains, and so does the happiness, but you feel different because the trees, though beautiful, have become familiar. You pay more attention to detail. The bridges get more difficult to cross because they are narrow and seem to come more often. A desire emerges to document your experience, and you take many pictures to remember the environment and the people you meet. The trail slowly but surely approaches the ground, where the city is.
The trail slightly flattens, but still slopes. Muscles feel a dull ache, and the seat becomes uncomfortable. Your mindset and position has to adjust often to remain in a happy state, but the beauty is still recognizable when you continue to work hard and follow the path. The people around you are a support system because you're all experiencing this together, but the ability to keep going and finish this impressive goal comes from within. You feel a sense of accomplishment and a desire to move forward and keep achieving. However, sometimes, hills feel harder to get over than others, and you get discouraged and frustrated. It takes effort to keep going.
Finally, you're approaching the end of the ride. There is no longer a slope, only occasional rolling hills. More people surround you, not just bikers, but the residents of the city, living their lives, like the life you will soon return to. It's all you can do to stay on the bike now; you just want to get off and walk. You feel a sense of pride for what you have accomplished: riding 17 miles down a mountain. As you pedal up the last few feet of the ride, towards the bike shop, in viewing distance, you realize that, though you have loved your beautiful ride through the clouds, it is time to enter real life, with all the memories you have in hand as you move forward. You're ready to embrace life, wanting to help everyone else in the world feel the way you do about life and the amazing beauty that you have uncovered in the world. No matter how hard you have to work, you're ready to not just to enjoy the beauty, but make it more beautiful."
The above text is my college essay, written almost three years ago. Reading through it does a few things to me. Number one, I want nothing more but to go through and edit, changing things that reflect changes in me. I also want to leave it how it is, to remember how I felt then. Because I never would have written like this today. It makes me yearn for my youth, for my image of the world. I still think it's beautiful, but I want to see it that way again always. I also find it laughable how I thought that my image of the world, my little corner, was meant to be imparted on everyone, that my difference was one that mattered, when in fact, it's the difference itself that matters, not mine, and other views are also essential. Even if they're completely different. I think the main thing is that I'm glad I still have it, to remember. Because on those days when I get a little too "dress pants," a little too "time to pay the bills," or even a little, "It's 8pm and I'm tired," I can always remember my ride in the clouds.
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