I turned 21, ran a marathon, and left the country three weeks later. Just a few months before I was struggling to run three miles without stopping, and I had never traveled outside of the USA (except on a cruise to Mexico, which doesn't really count).
But my life as a college dropout turned insurance salesman wasn't going so great (read that sentence again to figure out why). I wasn't happy, didn't have a lot of money, and thought there had to be more to life than a 3% commission. So I wanted to try new things.
Marathon, travel.
The marathon was terrible. I started at 4am and ran for over 8 hours. If you're not sure, this is about three-legged-cow speed. What did I expect? My belly was somewhere between "a little overhang" and "help I can't see my feet". My idea of a healthy meal was getting the chicken quesadilla at Cookout (as opposed to the meat one, which was way better). But I made it to the end ran an extra mile just to make sure that I really for-really ran a marathon.
The travel was great. I went to Costa Rica for a few months. My Spanish was so bad that every time I tried to say "I am a little hungry" I said "I have a little penis" (ask me about that story). I made a lot of friends who thought I was very honest. It was the time of my life. There's not much better in the world than being a broke 21-year-old in a foreign country with nothing to do, nothing to lose.
I kept traveling for 4 or 5 years. Next was Colombia, then Peru. Cuba, several European countries, Brazil a few times. Before I was 25 I had been to almost every country in the Americas. My life had nothing stable - I lived out of a backpack, worked from a computer, and never saw the same people for more than 3 months at a time. Dates were easy and love was hard. Loneliness was a constant struggle, but I learned to make friends (more growing up). I visited my parents for Thanksgiving and Christmas before leaving out again.
The travel slowed down when I bought a home in Costa Rica. At first I stayed because there were renovations to do and people who needed an eye kept on them. Then I stayed because of a "season of no": a time period where I said no to almost everything (including travel) so I could make progress on the things that mattered most: my book and my programming.
It's hard to say no to as much as possible for a year: non-vital internet, dessert, video games and TV, sleeping past 10pm, girls. I went from a fun traveling guy to a programming Puritan.
The longer the season of no went on, the more I felt that I was losing a spark I used to have. A vital piece. Things had gotten "easy". I didn't do things I was afraid of any more. I felt like I was getting old
So I booked a flight to Istanbul, Turkey. It was scary. I have never been to a Muslim country before and didn't know what to expect (other than what I had heard from Baptists, which wasn't good). I didn't speak a single word of Turkish, and had never met anyone who had been to Turkey.
I was afraid of the people, the language, the transit.
And Istanbul turned out to be my favorite European city I've ever been to. It was clean, people were nice, food was delicious and girls even better. Public transit was great, the architecture was amazing, and I was sad when I left. I'm already planning to go back and stay longer. Much longer.
Going back to new things did a healing on my soul. The thrill of being vulnerable, of not knowing what today will bring... the beauty and longing of surprise.
Settling down is fine. But don't forget to try new things again.
But my life as a college dropout turned insurance salesman wasn't going so great (read that sentence again to figure out why). I wasn't happy, didn't have a lot of money, and thought there had to be more to life than a 3% commission. So I wanted to try new things.
Marathon, travel.
The marathon was terrible. I started at 4am and ran for over 8 hours. If you're not sure, this is about three-legged-cow speed. What did I expect? My belly was somewhere between "a little overhang" and "help I can't see my feet". My idea of a healthy meal was getting the chicken quesadilla at Cookout (as opposed to the meat one, which was way better). But I made it to the end ran an extra mile just to make sure that I really for-really ran a marathon.
The travel was great. I went to Costa Rica for a few months. My Spanish was so bad that every time I tried to say "I am a little hungry" I said "I have a little penis" (ask me about that story). I made a lot of friends who thought I was very honest. It was the time of my life. There's not much better in the world than being a broke 21-year-old in a foreign country with nothing to do, nothing to lose.
I kept traveling for 4 or 5 years. Next was Colombia, then Peru. Cuba, several European countries, Brazil a few times. Before I was 25 I had been to almost every country in the Americas. My life had nothing stable - I lived out of a backpack, worked from a computer, and never saw the same people for more than 3 months at a time. Dates were easy and love was hard. Loneliness was a constant struggle, but I learned to make friends (more growing up). I visited my parents for Thanksgiving and Christmas before leaving out again.
The travel slowed down when I bought a home in Costa Rica. At first I stayed because there were renovations to do and people who needed an eye kept on them. Then I stayed because of a "season of no": a time period where I said no to almost everything (including travel) so I could make progress on the things that mattered most: my book and my programming.
It's hard to say no to as much as possible for a year: non-vital internet, dessert, video games and TV, sleeping past 10pm, girls. I went from a fun traveling guy to a programming Puritan.
The longer the season of no went on, the more I felt that I was losing a spark I used to have. A vital piece. Things had gotten "easy". I didn't do things I was afraid of any more. I felt like I was getting old
So I booked a flight to Istanbul, Turkey. It was scary. I have never been to a Muslim country before and didn't know what to expect (other than what I had heard from Baptists, which wasn't good). I didn't speak a single word of Turkish, and had never met anyone who had been to Turkey.
I was afraid of the people, the language, the transit.
And Istanbul turned out to be my favorite European city I've ever been to. It was clean, people were nice, food was delicious and girls even better. Public transit was great, the architecture was amazing, and I was sad when I left. I'm already planning to go back and stay longer. Much longer.
Going back to new things did a healing on my soul. The thrill of being vulnerable, of not knowing what today will bring... the beauty and longing of surprise.
Settling down is fine. But don't forget to try new things again.