The unrolled path in front of me, dark and threatening. Towering trees lined both sides, blocking out the glare of the moon, which hovered behind me. It was early evening on a Friday, when I should have been in my warm office to finish the week's work. Instead, I was pedaling toward the end of the second frigid day of a three-day, 267-mile bike ride through Missouri.
The thick darkness surrounding me heightened all my other senses. Leaves crunched under my tires. I heard the crackling footsteps of woodland creatures just inside the treeline. Squirrels, probably, but in a year or two they'll turn into bears…giant, ferocious, dick-eating bears. 'men. The cold air stung my cheeks, the result of crossing a headwind with a temperature close to freezing. I smiled, then I laughed, then I screamed with joy.
Only the lamp on my handlebar illuminated the railroad transformed into a cycle path on which I rode. It threw enough light that I could see exactly what I needed to see, no more, no less. Further ahead, behind, to the right, to the left, everything was shrouded in darkness. All I could do was attack the path right in front of me and not worry about what I couldn't see.
Which , I think to myself,is exactly what the job is like.
I am a solopreneur. A freelancer. A member of YouEconomy. So I know how to fight against the unknown even when the conditions are not always the best. The big difference, however, between my freelance DIY work and the bike metaphor playing in my head as I pedaled, was that I wasn't alone on the trail. I had friends all around me, helping me, encouraging me, pushing me, as I did the same for them.
We were fighting loneliness, one mile at a time.
* * *
After almost seven years as a solopreneur, I doubt I will return to a "real job". I can't imagine going into an office when someone tells me to, sitting at the same desk all day, and leaving when that same person who told me when to come in says it's OK for me to go back to the House. The very idea seems absurd, like a draconian punishment that we will eventually come back to and wonder why we allowed it to go on for so long.
As much as I don't want to go back to an office, the freedom of the solopreneur life can come at a price:loneliness and isolation. Stuck in my home office day in and day out, I miss the camaraderie of colleagues. I stop to stop by my friend's office, pick up the baseball bat he kept there, and do a few practice swings. I miss impromptu lunches. I miss leaning over my cubicle to ask my friend if he can believe what the boss just said, even though I do miss having a boss who says such worthy things question.
A 2018 study by insurer Cigna called loneliness an “epidemic.” Nearly 50% of the 20,000 people who took the survey said they felt lonely sometimes or all the time. I don't know if solopreneurs suffer from loneliness more or less than the general population. But I know I suffer from it, as do most other freelance writers I know, follow, and read. I also know that spending most of my working days alone in my home office contributes to the problem.
My bike ride through Missouri is a way to get out of my office and fight loneliness. It's thanks to a free men's training group called F3 (F3nation.com) that I'm a part of. F3 workouts are outdoors, peer led and designed like they know I was coming, as they are designed to foster strong bonds between participants (there is a female version called FIA).
The three Fs are fitness, fellowship and faith, and to me the second is the most important. I don't want you to read this and join your local F3 (although we would love to have you). But if you're struggling with loneliness and isolation, one way to combat it is to get out of your office and do something about it.
My something just happens to be outdoor workouts. Yours could be a book club, a sewing club, a cooking club, whatever – a common interest that brings you face to face with other living, breathing humans. I encourage you to build relationships around this common interest and watch.
Since I started working with F3 a year ago, I've lost 20 pounds and gained at least as many friends. To my surprise, I also acquired or improved valuable skills that a solopreneur does not typically promote, including being part of a team, being a mentor/mentee, increasing my accountability skills, responsibility and leadership. I'm even rediscovering the occasional usefulness of following instructions and giving critiques. All this contributes to my fight against loneliness and isolation.
* * *
When I was in elementary school, the results of parent-teacher conferences were always the same:the teacher said I was doing well in my subjects, but I never shut up. My dad owned a siding business and often prepared material for the next day in our garage. I would follow him there and ask him so many questions that he would go inside and tell my mom to give me something to do so he could do the job.
The thing is, I need to talk to people or I'm going a little crazy. For this reason, I think loneliness and isolation hit me harder than others, and I have tried many ways to combat them.
Early in my career as a solopreneur, I hosted parties with fellow writers and we formed what amounted to an ad hoc writers organization. I have since moved, but these meetings continue. I did not try to organize similar events in my new hometown. All we talked about was work, and the conversations were almost always blaming sessions about what's wrong with our profession. It was good to know that others were struggling with the same issues as me. But I often felt just as hopeless after these meetings as before.
Do not mistake yourself. I think professional organizations are great. I am a member of the Society of American Travel Writers and the National Motorsports Press Association, and am a former member of baseball and football writers groups. But I want to be with people with different life experiences. Plus, no matter how social, a professional organization feels like work, and I work enough already.
I sometimes work away from home and I should do it more often. When I have a lot of awkward things to do — answering emails, billing, reading small batches — I take my kids to the pool or the park and I bring my computer. I can play on the diving board, save valuable time for dad, and talk to other parents while I'm at it.
Yeah I'm That guy , the one who will talk with strangers at the cafe or at the playground. While training with friends to prepare for the three-day F3 bike trip, a rider pedaling solo in the opposite direction stopped me to ask if he could join us. I loved it instantly for having the courage to do it. I said yes and struck up a conversation with him.
After this guy turned on the house, a ride buddy said he would never ask to join another group. I said I would have had no problem doing it, and he said (paraphrasing):“Duh! of course you wouldn't. »
My chatty nature is the reason I don't use shared office locations. Well, my talkative nature and the fact that I'm too cheap to pay. People unfortunate enough to sit next to me wouldn't do any work, and neither would I.
Yet even impromptu interactions in public work environments are only temporary balms. While I may not be alone in these situations, I still feel lonely because I don't have deep relationships with strangers that I strike up conversations with like I do with my F3 friends. I train with them at least twice a week and we talk, text and email daily. These are the types of deep connections a new solopreneur would miss at the old salt mine – the type I encourage you to seek out if you've decided to join YouEconomy.
* * *
As the miles went by, I thought about the difference between being alone and being alone. We stopped mid morning in a forest for a drink and to make sure everything was ok as the temperature was in the 20's.
The six of us started the next stint together. Three guys set a fast pace to mine. After covering 77 miles the day before, we were on track to cover 83 miles today and had plans to conquer 107 the next day, so I didn't want to wear myself out trying to keep up with them. I also didn't want to ask them to ride slower so I could keep up. At the same time, the other two were much slower than me. I didn't want to slow down for them either. So I let the faster runners go far ahead of me and walked away from the slower runners.
It left me alone, but far from lonely. I knew the men in front of me would alert me to any damage or detours on the trails. I knew I would do the same for the guys behind me, and they would help me if I crashed or punctured. And I knew we would all meet at the next stopping point.
For 90 minutes I saw no one in any direction and rode at the exact pace I wanted. It felt like my best days at work, like I sold the perfect land to the perfect company for the perfect price, and the execution went perfectly.
As awesome as that is, I can only be alone with my thoughts for so long before I get bored, especially on a trip that was supposed to be about fellowship. I wanted to know if everyone liked this section as much as I did. The difference between being alone and being alone is having someone to share the experience with, good or bad.
And so, when I saw people in front of me, I pushed harder on the pedals. I thought my faster buddies had taken a break, or, maybe in a bit of delusion, that I had caught up with them. I was disappointed to find out they weren't my friends but strangers on a late morning stroll.
I shot next to them and told them about the beauty of a day, because of course I did.
