Day 16 – July 2nd

This morning our plan was to be on the road by 6 am; but like all great war-plans, as soon as the first shot is fired the hard thought-out plans fall to the wayside. Nebraska was having early morning thunderstorms; with eye piercing lightening. Lighting is the one factor that bikers don’t mess around with; it only takes one bolt to end that gamble. By 8:30 am the lightening had moved on, and we were left with nothing but a light rain and some wind. Gearing up for the weather and cooler temperatures, we set out to get wet and start our daily trek; within minutes the rain was pummeling us. Wherever it discovered exposed skin it attacked; like shards of glass being hurled at you. The worst part was when the pebbles of precip plunged into my lips; which in the last couple days have developed small blisters from over-exposure. The piercing pain was hardly pleasant, as each time it struck I was amazed at the shot of pain it created. This was not the worst part of the early ride however. Soon I found myself on a milled road; construction workers had created diagonal striations in the concrete. Riding over these for 9 miles reminded me of biking on old brick roads; your entire body is shaken, jostled, and thrown in every direction. It was absolute misery riding on this destructive road while still battling the rain, wind, and traffic. Thank the Lord above the road raping ended at mile 16. Unfortunately, compared to what was awaiting us the rest of the day, this was child’s play. For the next 65 miles we fought a headwind blowing at 30 to 35 mph. Gary’s and my pace was beaten down to a miserable 9 to 12 mph. Even when we headed down a hill, the best we could do was 16 mph. The wind was ruthless, relentless, and soul sapping. It just would not give us a break in the slightest; it continued its onslaught all day. Mile after miserable mile, I found my determination and attitude at an all time low, and my frustration was quickly mounting. This was a fight with Old Man Wind that I just could not get the courage to fight. Bowing my head in acceptance, I let him have his way with me as I eked along at snail pace. I simply could not find the audacity to battle this relentless opponent; Mr. Wind

And finally I realized he’d done it. The Gusty General, after all our skirmishes, had finally gotten to me. He wasn’t after my body (that would be a consellation prize) instead he wanted to defeat my mind, crush my spirit, and finally banish my tenacity to pedal onward. And he had finally done it. Limping into Cody, Nebraska for lunch I had lost all my cycling confidence and the little pedaling prowess I possessed. My spirits, poise, and speed were all bottom feeder low. The Windy General had me cowering like a school girl in a corner; one more attack from him and my resolve would dissolve and I would be officially defeated; he would finally conquer me. But Wind, in his arrogance, made the mortal mistake that so many mighty warriors of history have made: when the enemy is down they erroneously believe him defeated and fail to deliver the blow de la fatal. He turned his back upon me when I was at my most vulnerable, and from those ashes I was able to rise. I took the opportunity to regroup, re-plan, and most of all look inward for the fiery resolve that he had so brutally quenched. I was pleasantly surprised to find, though the fire was dead, a single spark remained; it only needed a catalyst to start the combustion. Mounting Trek the Trustworthy after a quick meal, I found that desperately needed catalyst staring silently back at me. No longer were the seeds of doubt, defeat, and fear filling my vision; in their stead stood a single entity: Anger. Pure, unabridged, unaltered, Anger. Alone with its fiery power, it needed but a command to begin its deadly onslaught. My former strategy of pleading for mercy from the Mighty Wind soon disappeared as the hunted was replaced by the hunter. No longer would I be a defensive strategist; now it was I who was on the offensive. I knew my steed didn’t deserve to cower at a lowly 9 to 12 mph; it demanded better as should I. Therefore, at mile 40 I strode into battle to trade blows with the contemptuous Wind. It was not a sword, saber, or sidearm that I fought with; nay it was the power filled strokes of the pedals that would defeat this nemesis. For the next 40 miles it was a hard fought battle, the wind was not about to back down, nor was I; not again, not ever. There were advances made on both sides; but slowly my front pushed onward; and a tiny crack in its defenses appeared. It realized I no longer feared it and thus it could no longer feed upon me; it was therefore weakening. Keeping a constant reign of blows ranging from 18 to 21 mph, the battle lasted hours, but it was one I was destined to win. When Sir Wind had the upper-hand he showed no signs of parley; therefore, he would receive none from me. Contentment could not find its hold in me until I stood over Winds still smoking corpse. In this war there could be but one victor. In the end we both realized the same fact; he no longer held sway over me, and my confidence was being resuscitated. I know that I will face this mighty foe again; but for today I remain victorious. Mr. Wind, you have proven the most able of adversaries, and for that I salute you. But I will not bow to you, just as I will never yield to you again. Until our fates cross once more on the battlefield, I bid you ado.