Two hours, 32 miles, and learning to enjoy the journey
What a commute on bike, train, and bus has added to my JSK Fellowship experience
It was seven years ago that I took the first steps in developing the civic media organization, El Tímpano. Like every solo entrepreneur — and for the first four years, it was just me — I’ve worn every hat, taken every meeting, accepted every conference invitation, and sacrificed sleep and time with my family and friends to apply for every grant I could while also doing today’s work and tomorrow’s planning. While El Tímpano has recently celebrated some big funding announcements and several new hires, it’s been an exhausting hustle to get to where we are today. So when I was selected to be a Stanford JSK Journalism Fellow this year, one thing I was looking forward to was slowing down, stepping out of the day-to-day grind, and gaining perspective.
I’m happy to say, I’ve gained all of that… though not in the way I expected.
Every time I arrive at the Stanford campus, I’m ready for my class, my fellowship session, or whatever plans I have for the day. But my JSK day began hours ago, when I hopped on my bike in Oakland to begin my long commute across the bay and to Stanford.
If you know the Bay Area, you know: It’s a journey. And while I initially fought this aspect of my fellowship experience, I’ve come to appreciate the routine and what it’s taught me about slowing down, giving in, and enjoying the ride.
In the first two months, I tried every imaginable way to get from point A to point B, convinced that there had to be a better option. First I biked to BART, rode the train through San Francisco to CalTrain to a shuttle. That took three hours. Going in the other direction, taking BART south to Union City and hopping on a bus to cross to the South Bay takes a mere two, but that’s assuming you time it perfectly, as the bus only leaves every hour. The quickest route I found was a carpool made up of a rotating group of Stanford employees and a black Labrador, but it required my husband and son to drive me pre-dawn to the pickup location two miles from my house and swing by for me again in the evening. Anyways, it disbanded after the third time I took it. The coordinator got a new job closer to Oakland and no one stepped up to keep it going.
These futile attempts to improve my extreme commute lasted about two months. Eventually, I gave up and accepted it for what it is: a two- to three-hour slog from bike to Fruitvale BART to Union City to Stanford. The shift in my mindset may have been inevitable, or perhaps it was an outcome of the mindfulness class I took that first quarter. Now, I make sure my phone is fully charged, I save writing and reading projects for the journey, and I try to make the most of the temporary routine.
A commute — particularly one involving public transit — offers a combination of routine and serendipity. It has a set schedule that is often thrown off. Familiar faces of people you’ve never met. The comfort of a landscape you come to know so well but which always provides something new to discover. In the routine, I learn as much about myself and my state of mind as I learn about my surroundings.
At the Union City bus stop, I met a church organist from San Leandro by way of New Orleans on his way to a doctor’s appointment at Stanford Hospital. We chatted for the 30-minute wait and much of the ride. He gave me recommendations on where to go when I visit New Orleans, showed me a picture of his Hammond organ, and reflected on the life as an R&B musician he would have lived if he’d learned how to read music.
I learned that a light rain can cause a BART delay and throw off my carefully scheduled trip, extending what should be a two-hour commute by an hour. Twice when this happened, I shared a Lyft with a commuter in the same predicament. While she works in finance now, she told me that she’s considering pursuing her passion for Indian dance.
I shared a laugh with strangers when a passenger’s snore echoed through our bus. On the same route on a different day, we rallied behind the driver when she had to walk to the back and will the drunk passenger to get out at his stop.
I witnessed the arrival of BART’s new entrance gates meant to stop fare jumpers. A man smoking a blunt between South Hayward and the Oakland Coliseum. BART police interrogating a woman hunched over on the floor of the station.
In the span of two hours, I take in the beauty and the anguish of the Bay Area. The fog over the bay at sunrise never gets old. The steady growth of tent cities near the wealthiest zip codes in the country — that never ceases to disturb me either.
For the past seven years, I’ve been working remotely, more often than not taking meetings and classes from my home office. It’s easy on my budget and the environment, and gives me more time to spend with my family, but there’s a price to pay for the convenience. I can go through an entire workday without exchanging a smile with a stranger, or feeling the sun on my skin. With the convenience of virtual meetings, I can wind up with zooms back to back to back, with no chance to stretch, check in on colleagues and friends, read the news, or just take a break. With no time to pause.
A chance to slow down is what drew me to the JSK Fellowship. Since starting my entrepreneurial journey, I’ve stretched myself in so many ways. But the one thing I haven’t done is allow myself to pause and reflect: What have I learned? What have I enjoyed? How can I support others that are embarking on a similar journey? What do I like and dislike about how the journey has changed me?
Since the JSK Fellowship started, I’ve put more miles on my bike and more money on my transit card than I have in the last 10 years combined. Rather than relocate my family in Oakland to move across the bay for the fellowship, I decided to become an extreme commuter for 10 months. It’s an inconvenience I initially dreaded, but as entrepreneurship has taught me, our challenges can be our greatest teachers. In those hours on the road, I’ve gained the gift of slowing down.
Madeleine Bair is the Founding Director of El Tímpano and a 2024 JSK Journalism Fellow. She lives in Oakland and enjoys traveling to all corners of the Bay Area and beyond.
