Why I Threw Oatmeal at a Wall and Then Biked 3,166 Miles
The Space Between Paychecks Is Where Your Tiger Comes Alive
I threw a bowl of oatmeal at the wall.
Peeled out of my driveway and drove 90 mph down the highway until my hands stopped shaking.
My kids were terrified. My wife called my mom…
"Don't let him do anything stupid."
This wasn't a bad day.
This was Tuesday.
Success always looks different on the inside
I was making six figures as a geologist, living in a 4,000-square-foot house. On paper, I had everything that others had told me to want.
In reality, I was driving 120 miles a day to put a number in a spreadsheet and make "pretty pictures" for my boss.
My work was about building 4D models of the earth.
Maps guiding multi-million dollar oil/gas investments, backed by creativity and science.
Impactful projects that produced energy and stability for our world.
That work had been reduced to PowerPoint for ten hours a day.
While only getting twenty minutes with my kids before bed.
My wife got to watch them grow up.
I got to resent her for it while being taken hostage in meetings.
I'd built my own prison with a swimming pool
I had every safety net corporate life promised. The degree. The career ladder. The stock options. The vacations. The suburban dream. All the boxes checked.
In the midst of quarterly metrics and performance reviews, I lost track of what I was really juggling.
The two-hour commute became my daily sanctuary.
Then on Tuesday afternoons, I’d quietly leave my office door closed, so others would think I was still there the next day, while I slept in and worked from home.
Friday afternoons, I'd disappear into an empty movie theater. Ordering junk food and "a shit ton of alcohol" just to prep myself for the long weekend of yard work and kids activities.
Secret rituals to cope with a life I'd built but now couldn't escape.
Because escaping meant losing the house. The lifestyle. The identity everyone celebrated.
My uncle asked the question that shattered everything
"If you had $5 billion, would you still do geology?"
"No."
"Then why are you going to work tomorrow as a geologist?"
I had no answers.
Six months later, I stood in my bedroom, still puzzled about how to break free from my corporate success.
That's when I heard it. Not a voice exactly. More like a knowing that screamed from inside me:
The answers you seek are on the other side of the ride.
“What ride? The same bicycle ride my crazy uncle was planning across the United States?”
“That ride!?!”
I wanted to dismiss it immediately.
I had responsibilities. A family. A mortgage. A career that, while slowly suffocating me, paid for everything around me.
But I knew. From that moment, I knew...
So I cashed out my 401K. Left $30,000 in bonus money on the table. Bought two bikes and an old RV.
We planned to ride 31.6 miles a day for 100 days across America.
None of us had ever ridden that distance before.
We just started pedaling and figured it out.
The real shock wasn't physical
It was rediscovering who I was without the title, the office, the performance reviews.
Day one: Full armor. Helmet, rearview mirror, emergency supplies, clip-in shoes. Prepared for every possible threat.
Just like I'd been in corporate life.
But mile after mile, something happened.
The armor started falling away.
Not all at once. Piece by piece.
3,166 miles later, I was unrecognizable
Flip-flops. No shirt. No helmet. Just sunglasses and open road.
It wasn't recklessness. It was trust.
Trust in myself, my body, my instincts. Muscles that had been idle for years, held back by committee decisions and waiting for approval.
My tiger was stretching again.
Every stop was a mirror
A waitress in Kansas: "Do you ever think about doing something else?"
Her eyes welled up. "Every single day. But I wouldn't know where to start."
A retired executive at an RV park in Indiana shared, "I spent so much time being what others wanted that I forgot who I am."
These weren't just conversations. They were mirrors.
Showing me what happens when we cage our tigers for too long.
We're all born with a tiger inside us
Wild. Authentic. Untamed.
But corporate life doesn't want tigers. It wants performers.
So we build cages. Install locks. Throw blankets over them when the roaring gets too loud.
The tiger doesn't care about quarterly earnings or performance reviews.
It cares about being free.
The finish line taught me everything
We lifted our bikes overhead at Fort McHenry. The inspiration for "The Star-Spangled Banner."
But the real transformation wasn't the destination.
It was learning that my value wasn't in the miles I had pedaled.
It was in who I was that very day.
The 9 years since haven't been easy
Our financial struggles were so severe that I rehearsed ending my life. Mental health issues left me unable to move from my couch for three years. Failed businesses and forgotten ideas came and went.
And here's what I know now that I didn't know before...
The tiger doesn't care about success or failure.
It cares about being seen.
The space between paychecks isn't just a financial gap
It's the territory where you stop pretending and start becoming.
Where you learn that corporate life teaches us to be performers. In meetings, you must say the right things. You create the "pretty pictures" your boss wants. So often, hiding your truth behind professional masks.
Until one day, you find yourself surrounded by everything you thought you ever wanted.
While inside, something wild roars louder and louder for something real.
That's your tiger
It's still there, no matter how long it's been caged.
The question isn't whether you should let it out.
The question is... how long can you keep it locked away?
Your tiger is waiting.
P.S. I’ve blocked out an hour every day this summer to deeply connect, face-to-face.
Grab a spot on my calendar at your convenience BradDid.com/connect
well said. I rent out two rooms in my house on Airbnb, which has become a special haven for women needing a break, many of whom, I counsel, off the books ,so to speak. Now at 75 years old, I have cultivated, curated, and cared for a life I dreamed of some four decades ago. I say, choose a life that nurtures your living, and then choose a place that fits you like your favorite worn t-shirt. Life is good, even when it's not easy.
I am still following your writing and translating them into Chinese, to share your stories in China:
https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/2hmpyH6nSzsMFr1s1wVDQg.
Thank you for this sharing. It may reassure many of a similar heart in China,too.