Retirement Travel Bliss: The Harsh Reality of Home Life

The initial few years of retirement typically present significant challenges. However, these years can also establish the framework for your future decades both economically and emotionally. Stephen Kreider Yoder, who was an accomplished long-time editor at The Wall Street Journal, retired alongside his spouse, Karen Kreider Yoder, towards the end of 2022. As retirees now aged 67, they share their experiences and struggles in this regular column titled "Retirement Rookies."

Steve

While cycling along the northern coast of Japan in July, we received an email from a reader that has sparked ongoing discussions among us.

We logged a lot of miles during the initial couple of years post-retirement by traveling extensively, but over the past six months, we decided to stay local for the very first time in our lives," shared Colleen, who is 64 years old from Washington State. "We simply enjoyed being around our neighborhood, within our own house, tending to our garden. It has turned out to be far more delightful than we anticipated.

Colleen’s comments resonated with us since Karen and I had been discussing during our ride if it might be time to slow things down upon returning at the end of summer. "Perhaps it will be time for a fresh start," I mentioned multiple times.

We have been apart for almost half of our time together ever since I stopped working. Neither one of us regrets any of these experiences, be it cycling across the United States, venturing into Algeria’s vast desert, or taking an Amtrak train ride just to visit Dad in Iowa. Our journey to Japan’s northernmost island, Hokkaido, surpassed all expectations as we cycled past quaint fishing towns, ascended winding mountain routes, and traversed rural landscapes reminiscent of my youth.

And with every kilometer we traveled this summer, we found ourselves longing even more to simply be back at home—not just as an escape from our journeys.

We've returned and remain committed to staying. However, this means acknowledging that I haven't cracked the code on being retired at home just yet. A major realization post-work has been recognizing how challenging it is for me to leave the sofa and discover activities to occupy the space left vacant by my former career. The prospect of starting anew feels quite overwhelming.

For many years, my work dictated a significant part of my daily routine. Unanticipated tasks would constantly bombard me, necessitating innovative choices that frequently led to satisfying results. The consistent barrage was somewhat intoxicating, as I realize with hindsight.

Travel can act like a potent drug. No matter whether I'm exploring an uncharted land or driving along the serpentine trails of the Appalachians, each leg of my journey presents fresh challenges hourly. On the road, the route dictates which choices I have to make.

At home, the responsibility falls on my shoulders to seek out chores, but this doesn’t come naturally to me. I spend time fiddling in the garage, mending household items, reading some, riding in the park with Karen—and then I can't help but start poring over maps, fantasizing about planning another journey as though I must flee.

I'm envisioning my retirement as a time when traveling will be reduced, focusing more on making our house feel like a cozy haven instead of a launching pad for new adventures. A key part of this shift involves accepting that being unproductive doesn’t mean failure; it’s perfectly fine to spend leisurely hours engrossed in reading, listening to music, or engaging in enjoyable hobbies right here at home.

I've got numerous role models. One acquaintance recently retired and promptly took up an engaging schedule involving gardening, playing pickleball, going bowling, and spending time with their grandchildren. Others have discovered part-time editing jobs that seem to offer both purpose and a pleasant daily routine.

What I particularly admire about Karen is how since her retirement began, she has filled her days both at home and within the local community with fulfilling endeavors that benefit those around her. While she looks forward to traveling, she also enjoys returning to her post-retirement lifestyle of staying at home.

We've been attempting to welcome more individuals into our home since we have extra free time nowadays. Getting accustomed to life at home also involves engaging with local activities, as I realize now. Consequently, I'm starting to sign up for additional volunteer opportunities and thinking about taking on part-time employment—not primarily for the income, but to establish an external routine that provides focus upon returning home. An old acquaintance who has retired works part-time in the bicycle section of a sporting goods store—this option seems quite appealing to me.

However, I could be beyond redemption. Just last month, I covertly placed an order for 12 maps outlining a bicycle route through the American Northwest. These maps lie beneath my desk as I write, whispering enticingly to me.

Karen

Back home once more, back home once more, and there’s an abundance of activities awaiting me since my retirement.

Too much, sometimes.

During my initial week back from Japan, I sent emails to friends who lived close enough to be within walking distance. This list eventually expanded to include 20 people, excluding any children.

“Ready to connect with y’all,” I wrote. “Want to join us on a bike ride to the beach?…Want to come over and sit on the stoop in the late afternoon?” Immediately, a friend invited us to a debate-watching party and another proposed a neighborhood potluck. We biked to the beach with a new neighbor for a moon-watching celebration. I lent my big pot for a friend’s shrimp boil.

In contrast to Steve, I don’t devote much time to wrestling with defining my new role in life when we’re not on the road.

Staying at home is soothing for me. I rise with the sun, brew some coffee, and quietly move about the house by myself. After emptying the dishwasher, I enjoy reading the printed version of the San Francisco Chronicle. Later, I tackle a couple of crossword puzzles and send the completed ones to my sisters via text.

Everything before sunrise or before Steve arrives.

Staying at home brings me great pleasure. I prepare dishes to enjoy with friends. I dry apples and grapes. I craft plum jam and quince butter. I also sew blankets and create patchwork quilts. There's constantly something significant underway—digitizing photographs, organizing documents, crafting stuffed animals, conducting meetings for my women’s group, as well as teaching an adult student.

My career previously dictated a significant portion of my daily routine, similar to Steve’s experience. Now, in retirement, I have chosen my own occupation, which feels more like a personal project than a traditional job.

What I'm dealing with: I frequently say "yes" more than I should, which leads me to feel overwhelmed by the multitude of activities on my agenda, despite finding pleasure in most of them.

A possible approach: Jot down every task along with an estimated timeframe, making them appear more manageable. Complete the childhood fabric quilt project—20 hours. Organize childhood documents—8 hours. Compile photo albums for each of my three boys—15 hours prior to Christmas.

So I committed to a personal agreement: use my mornings for tackling necessary chores such as paperwork, running errands, and completing those pesky tasks I usually put off. In the afternoons, however, I’ll indulge in activities of choice including sewing, reading, cooking, and cycling.

Next come my selected recurring weekly events—a virtual meditation session every Tuesday morning, followed by a comforting dinner and blanket weaving on Tuesday evenings. Each Wednesday morning involves cycling to collect our communal farm share. Additionally, one Thursday each month marks Serendipity Day with Steve; we randomly select from a jar slips of paper detailing surprise activities for the day.

These occasional activities ensure routine and stability throughout the week.

Whenever all my tasks start feeling overwhelming, I have a reliable way to refresh myself: traveling. If we go away for over a month, I pause these responsibilities—and return to them with fresh energy.

It will likely take until sometime next spring for me to require the next reset, which would be an ideal period to embark on another cross-country journey. Since Steve admitted to purchasing those Northern Tier bicycle maps, I've begun looking into campsite options along our planned path.

The Yoders reside in San Francisco. You can contact them at reports@wsj.com.