You know, a trip like this scares me.  You know why?  I’m. Not. Ready.  Of course I realize that nobody is really “ready” to ride a motorcycle half way around the world, leave their life for over a year, fly off mountains they’ve never seen, scale cliffs of terrifying difficulty, leave their business indefinitely, and trust the universe infinitely…  But that’s not really it.  I’m actually prepared to do all of those things.  I’m just not ready.

See.  I have back fat.  Yep. Back fat.  A month of hedonistic eating on my return from Africa has left me embarrassed when I take off my shirt and winded when I walk up the stairs.  My typically skinny frame is taking on the shape of redneck on the way to go tubing.  I’ve got to do something about that.  How can I expect to perform at a high level on my trip when wetting myself seems like a better answer than dragging myself the 20′ to the bathroom?

But that’s not all.  I’ve eaten a steady diet of Paragliding junk food with lots of binge and purge thrown in.  I went from baby peas, to steak with no transition.  I went from beginner pilot to P4 launches and cross country insanity in the Owens Valley (serious big mountain site).  I went from being scared to use half my brake travel to doing full stalls. I went from hardly being able to land in a football field, to having to land in a parking spot. There was no transition, and none of the accumulated wisdom that comes from slowly progressing through a sport. Imagine having learned how to ride a motorcycle last week, and this week you’re entering a televised superbike race.  That’s what my paragliding learning curve was like.  That’s fucking dangerous and I know just enough to get killed.

Climbing.  Yah, I’ve got back fat there too.  I’m like the hot amateur boxer who had some title fights in Vegas, was pretty damn good, knew his shit, slowly drifted into retirement after too many thumps to the head, then just up and decided he was going to jump right back into a title fight ten years later.  Aww, the lure of past glory.  There’s a big problem though.  Back fat.

Should we talk about money?  Do you even want to know how much back fat is hanging off my credit cards? My finances and my lungs are in similar states of pathetic shape.

I think you guys get the point.  I’m. Not. Ready.

This trip of global domination proportion is happening, and I better be ready for the level of pain, abuse, and toughness that’s necessary for success.  I better be solid climbing sketchy, run out 5.11 finger cracks.  I better have the wisdom to judge conditions and leave my paraglider in the bag if death is waiting in a thermal. I better have the skills to slide in and square off a corner I just entered too hot on my motorcycle.  I better be strong and flexible enough to not break when shit goes wrong and my body hits the ground. I better have the lungs and heart to haul bricks all day for the people I’m volunteering next to. I better get rid of the back fat, all of it.

Training starts NOW. I have eleven months to get fucking strong, fit, and really good at my chosen sports. If I want to change the world, I have to change myself first. Good bye back fat, hello awesome.