Five years ago, I began writing monthly in this space about all things aging and adventuring. While the regularity dropped off during a couple years caring for my mother in her final days, I haven’t stopped adventuring! Or, alas, aging. So we resume this column with monthly dispatches from far away and sometimes near, beginning with a narrative about my recent bike trip through Southeast Asia. Happy aging, and adventuring!
I wasn’t sure how much farther I could pedal as I neared the equator with the searing sun looming overhead. Dangerous UV levels boiled my skin as the heat index soared into the 120s. It wasn’t even noon yet. I hesitated to stop for a break because every time I hopped off the bicycle seat a swoon of wooziness swept over me, my ears would plug up and my head would pound.
Dehydration, sure signs. This was my daily battle. Singapore, just north of the earth’s closest point to the sun, was still several days away, which meant it would likely get even hotter. My ultimate goal of Bali, Indonesia, seemed implausible.
Cycling 4,500 miles from Hanoi, Vietnam, down to Bali through the spring was asking for protracted exposure to brain-baking heat. I knew that, but it far surpassed my expectations. I don’t mind the heat of summer, I’ve often said. Southeast Asia in April-May delivered heat like I’ve never felt. That includes a trans-U.S. bike ride a few years back that brought me across the Mojave Desert in July. That was easy and, importantly, dry compared to the pounding, swamping swelter of central Thailand and coastal Malaysia.
Ill-fated trip
I’d been planning the ride since summer 2025. It was a way to escape for the winter. Not that I have anything against New England winters, but the past three had been difficult with injuries precluding physical activity. So my criteria for a winter-spring bike trip included southern hemisphere, and a far distance. Southeast Asia, in a time zone exactly 12 hours ahead of Eastern Standard Time, seemed ideal. Warm, tropical and worlds away from familiarity.
The day I flew out of Logan Airport in Boston, Jan. 25, the temperature across Massachusetts plummeted to single digits and stayed for a while. I felt fortunate to escape the frigidity.
My fortune didn’t last. It was an ill-fated trip from the moment I landed in Hanoi’s Noi Bai International Airport at midnight and broke my tire valve while putting my bike back together. Flat tire and no way to fix it. The snafus continued from there: more flat tires, repeated phone failures, then, yeah, the heat.
At least, as I grappled with technical malfunctions, the northern Vietnam weather was fine. Cycling south of Hanoi along the South China Sea coast, inland toward the Laos border, then back up into the mountains by the China border, the temperatures were moderate, the skies perfectly cloudy. The fair weather continued into Laos, though the roads became considerably worse, nearly unrideable. It wasn’t until I got to central Thailand that the heat, and more so humidity, really kicked in. It remained brutally hot and smothering all the way down the Thailand peninsula, along the east coast of Malaysia and across Java, Indonesia, to Bali in early May.
Achieving goals
Now, back home, as I impart stories of my Asian bike trip’s serial difficulties and setbacks, I frequently get the inevitable question: Why? Why would I subject myself and my body to such prolonged punishment and discomfort?
It’s a legitimate question with an equally legit explanation, especially in the context of aging and achieving.
First of all, the inconveniences of bicycle and phone malfunctions, and the insane heat, may make the best stories (we all love hearing the bad stuff), but they were only a part of the experience. Every day also included amazing rides, especially in the early mornings before the sun climbed overhead, as well as wonderful encounters with local people, exotic meals, breathtaking vistas and tons of learning moments. And, simply, I love to ride, and I always feel a pull to know what’s around the next bend.
But more than that, this and every adventure or endeavor is about setting and accomplishing goals. I had set a goal to ride my bike from Hanoi to Bali. It wasn’t frivolous, I researched a reasonable amount to know about what I was signing up for. I knew there would be challenges because there always are on extended journeys.
I’m also practical enough, usually, to know when pushing toward a goal becomes foolish and irrational, the cost too high. But setting a goal, if it’s earnest, is a commitment. You’re deciding to achieve that end no matter what, within reason. And you always want to set goals a little higher than where you estimate your capabilities, so that you have to stretch and grow, and when you achieve them, it’s cause for celebration.
Sure, there were many times among the 103 days I spent cycling through Indochina when I wanted to stop and do something else less punishing. When I doubted my abilities to see this goal through.
I remember one such moment in particular, an especially humid day in northern Vietnam. My phone (my second replacement) had just died, and I sat on a rock on the side of a road, dejected, halfway up a towering mountain pass, already dehydrated and aware I couldn’t make the climb, the second one of the day. Couldn’t go on, couldn’t contact anyone, couldn’t read the signs to determine where I was or where to go.
I considered calling it quits, thought I might be done. Then I got lucky. Thanks to the generosity of a woman at a random home in the village I coasted to far below, I was able to hire a taxi to bring me over the mountain and continue the ride.
Now is the window
The difference between completing a goal successfully and quitting on a goal because it’s too difficult or uncomfortable is massive. And its importance grows as we age.
When you reach a goal, it changes your life for the better. You carry it with you for the remainder of your days. Your mindset expands, your confidence soars, and your aspirations bloom. Now what can my life be?
Conversely, giving up on a goal, especially when you could have kept going, also changes you. It plants a seed, a “what-if” seed deep inside that grows and never goes away, never stops asking “What if?” “What if you had pushed through those painful moments? What if you had dug deeper and done what you needed to do to finish that goal?” What would that have done for you? What would your life be like now? How much have you given up by quitting?
Tortuously, you will never know.
As we grow older, the drive to achieve goals becomes more important. Notching milestones, marking your life with accomplishments, creating legacy, becomes a purpose that defines who you are and who you were after you’re gone. When you’re young, it’s a little easier to give up goals because there’s plenty of time, take another crack at it later.
I just hit my Beatles birthday. For those of us in our 60s and beyond, there might not be a chance later. Now is the window.
Worth it
So, there in Southeast Asia, when the heat index maxed out and threatened bodily harm, I coped as best I could. I drank as much water and coconut milk as I could carry, but replacing the precipitous loss of body moisture was impossible. (Also, there were no electrolyte drinks to be found). I pulled on my sun sleeves every day and slathered on 50 SPF sunscreen. I awaited a bout of Dengue Fever toward the end and took a couple respites on tropical islands to recoup.
Having completed the challenging goal, there’s no question it was worth it. Sure, in the back of my mind, I wonder if I caused kidney or latent brain damage from the extended heat exposure and dehydration that will creep up and haunt me in 20 years. Who knows?
But the alternative of falling short of my goal would be damaging to my aging psyche now and from now on. I don’t want to spend any time wondering what if, I need to know.
Now that I bicycled 4,500 miles through Southeast Asia’s heat, dense cities, astounding landscapes, rough roads and kind people, I’m freed and empowered to wonder, what’s next? How can I top that?
That license to wonder and plan is well worth the cost.
Eric Weld, a former Gazette reporter, is the founder of agingadventurist.com.