A return to escaping

My spirit craves for Adventure. I want to be on a bike and race against the wind in the open terrain, breathing in what multitudes of green, pine-tree laden mountains exhale for my benefit. I want to be mother nature's son, climbing up her mountains and working my way down to her valleys. I want to rest in her fields of rye, where occasionally, I might help a misguided child and stop him from falling over into the abyss of cynicism. I want to run into strangers and benefit from their stories, or confide in them mine. I want to read a good book and live out its meaning. I want to think a noble thought, and reflect it from a mountain so all souls can see it. I want to, like Whitman, ask important questions about blades of grass. I want to be the first human being to walk or swim in some part of the earth, land or water, no matter how small. Among other things.