My passion for cycling dates back to my teenage years. I love the feeling of the wind in my hair and the sun on my skin. A year after I turned 24, I rode my bicycle throughout Colombia and Ecuador alongside my former partner Scott. It was an unforgettable two months of toughing it out in the Andes with only our bikes for company.

 We rode through pouring rain and hail, cold despite how warm it felt at high altitude, all while wearing construction goggles because no sunglasses could handle this much light! The road wound endlessly along sheer cliffs, but there was an empty lot just before it curved into this cement structure. So we rode even closer and knocked on their door - because, after all these years of being lost in translation, anything sounds good.

 As I walked up to the door, a young man opened it and invited us in Spanish for our camping trip. His parents came out with him wearing collars on their necks while dressed neatly in costumes fitting someone's heritage or culture. His mother had a long skirt covered by a shawl that matched perfectly against each other; a sight that made me smile even tighter than before!

 They inspected our bikes one by all and stood there nodding slowly as if understanding what was said but not willing just yet speak back because they're probably still getting used to having foreign visitors come over so often lately from Colombia (just recently)

 We were shown to a cement room with one bed, where we could sleep. The only decoration was an enormous poster of Jackie Chan; it felt like he would be there watching over us as our protectors in this place where they offered up free accommodation!

 We took off all our bags and laid them out before entering underneath those arms which have been extended so patiently, waiting tirelessly just because someone needed somewhere safe; places both inside themselves and outside their bodies too where no matter what life throws at you - illness/injury etcetera.

 I remember that evening well; it was one of the best homemade meals I’ve ever had. The mother served us a delicious meal from her garden, and we couldn't have been happier with what she gave back in return for our hospitality! She even let me keep an aloe plant that has grown quite large, thanks to its loving care at home over these past few weeks while travelling by bike.

 After breakfast, Scott and I packed up our things to head out. We said goodbye to the entire family as they had been so kind to us during this short time we spent together- even though it was only yesterday! We rode away on bikes with heavy loads but eager minds knowing what awaited ahead at the next stop: A new adventure.

 The feeling of motion can be exhilarating, but it also takes its toll on you. You are constantly pushing pedals downward and moving your body forward through landscapes that change with every mile travelled in new ways, for good or bad, depending on how they affect what's happening inside yourself at any given time.

 We might never get the chance or privilege to see the people we meet while travelling, but they're still here and deserve our empathy just as much as anyone else does! I experience a sense of wonder and curiosity whenever I interact with the people in my life. They all want to know who I am and what's happening inside this head.

 As we go about our days together - meeting here for just long enough so that it feels like family - these moments weave an intricate pattern that continues to fill me with hope. There are still good humans out here doing wonderful things despite everything else happening around them.