Ride Across America

Final Blog - Looking Back

2008-09-05T15:52:00.005-05:00

It has been greater than a month since the culmination of my epic ride across America. Looking back on the journey, I am slightly taken aback by its magnitude. I still have problems fathoming the length of road extending from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and the fact that I traversed every inch of it on two human-powered wheels. Yet, while I was in the heart of the journey, it never seemed that long or a challenge that I would be unable to complete. It was always just a matter of time.

Was it a difficult ride? Some days were tougher than others, naturally, and yet it was much easier than I imagined. The roads were nearly perfect, the traffic gracious beyond belief and the weather was heavenly. And aside from the knee pain, which has since subsided, the ride took a very limited toll on my body. In fact, my goal before the ride was to lose no more than four pounds; in the end I gained four. I’m damn proud of those four pounds too!

I believe a large portion of my enjoyment during the days of pedal pounding were a reflection of the hours I put in before the journey began as well as the people I rode it with. My cardio was in great form for the ride, in large part due to the climbing I had the opportunity to do in the mountains of Oregon, and thus made the challenge that much more attainable and enjoyable. As for the guys I did the ride with, they are all without equal. Gary and I were a couple of immature kids while in the saddle, making up songs and jokes that I think only we could appreciate and laugh at. As I am sure most of you have garnished from our other blogs and talking to us, our support crew was nothing short of Tour De France caliber. Truth be told, I’d put our support crew against theirs any day of the week. I believe the word ‘spoiled’ has been thrown around a time or two in describing the riders support from Larry and Bob and all I can say is ‘who am I to argue?’

I feel fortunate to have been able to accomplish this journey so early in life, and am thankful for the opportunity. Making this trip was something I have dreamed about since I began riding, and I originally hoped to do it by my mid forty’s. When Gary so graciously asked me to accompany him this summer, I jumped at the chance. Looking back I can’t help but smile at the realization that it was truly a dream come true. Thank you Gary for making this possible for me.

I also realize that an adventure is like so many other moments in life; it’s only a great achievement if you learned from it. If you fail to learn from it than the integrity of that accomplishment is lessened. So I ask myself, did I learn from this ride? If so, what?

During life and all the details that cloud our mind, we find ourselves often overlooking the people in it. And sad to say, often it is only during times of grief when we are able to see the beauty that lies within our friends and family. This ride, however, showed me that is not the only time it occurs. Throughout this cycling trip I was amazed at the people who took interest in it and showered the riders and drivers in unwavering encouragement. Looking back I stand in awe of that support network. There were people following this trip that I never imagined would care one way or another about it; and often it was the ones I least expected who were my biggest supporters. I don’t deserve it, but I am appreciative for that sustenance that your words and interest provided. On the tough days it was especially liberating; a hellishly windy day in Nebraska comes to mind…

I have also learned the meaning of true friendship. Friendship, a relationship you consciously choose to be involved in, is one of the strongest bonds I have ever had the great fortune to be a part of. A friend is the person that is there during the good times, and the bad. A person who will drive hours to be a part of something epic in your life, and the same guy that will call when things are down just to talk it out. The kind of person who will cross this country on two wheels with you and then a few weeks later drive half that distance in a rental truck by your side. The same friend who will then drive it all again in reverse when you realize you made a mistake; and yet never throw it in your face. The sort of friend you can talk to for hours and never really say anything, because nothing needs to be said. I may not have a lot of friends, but the ones I do have are beyond priceless. As I always tell my wife, my friends are the guys I could call when I’m sitting in a prison cell in Singapore for assaulting the Pope, and know they’ll get me out: some how, some way. Those are the kind of friends I finally came to appreciate on my ride. Not only appreciate, but I believe I may have added a couple of names to my list of friends as well. What more could I ask from an adventure?

The final piece of knowledge that came to light on this trip was that I at last realized what Christina really means to me. My wife, who has been my best friend through countless perils and journeys, was on my mind consistently during this journey. She is my wife, and I her husband, because we choose to be together. Each day we get to make that decision and I feel so blessed for it. It may sound cliché, but this beautiful women I call wife makes me a better, more confident, person. Just her presence liberates my soul and eradicates self doubt in the face of opposition. With her faith in me, I know I can conquer any task and triumph over any obstacle. She’s more than just the person I look to for support, she is the person that makes this life so enjoyable. Fortunes may be won and lost, personal triumphs diminish as the years pass, and yet the affection I have for her has done nothing but blossom and grow each day of the ride, as it did the days prior, and the days after.

Finishing the ride was a great moment in my life, but it dims in light of the realizations that I made while in the saddle. I have the greatest friends and family a person could ever wish for. To each of you, for I feel you know who you are, I say thank you. Your words, actions, and silent support when called upon, are the reasons this dream was possible and the same reason any dream is possible. I’m finally beginning to realize just how blessed my life is.

In parting I would like to use the immortalized words of Marianne Williamson. Her poem relays my view of people and the challenges that come our way. We all have a strength hidden deep within that sometimes needs a challenge to bring that light forth.

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn’t serve the world. There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We are born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us, it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

Day 33 – July 19th

2008-07-19T20:39:00.002-05:00

Months of planning, years of dreaming, and over a month of biking would come to fruition today. Today is the final day in my quest for Atlantic waters. What should I be feeling at this moment as I prepare to disembark on my climactic ride? Excitement? Nervousness? A little sad perhaps? Its all of these, yet none. The overwhelming feeling is surrealism; this doesn’t feel quite real to me. Hopefully in just over 60 miles it will strike me the same instance the Atlantic does. But like so many other days, I need to pedal to find out. And so, a little after 8:30 am, I set out one final time to do just that.

Rolling downhill toward the ocean, I am still captivated by the spirit of this ride. It’s a continuous sense of youthful enthusiasms. Everyday feels like old hat, yet at the same time its a totally new experience. I can’t really explain it; I guess it’s like so many other beautiful things in this world. You have to see/feel it to believe it.

The first half of the ride disappeared in a twinkle of pedaling, and aside from a detour to our trusty sidekick Starbucks for some java and a few tubes (Friedman, up to his old tricks, blew through three more tubes and a tire while visiting the green been.) Making our way through Nashua, we soon found ourselves displaced. After a quick rendezvous with a local, we found our route, added a few extra miles just for kicks, and were back on track. Back on track was not to last; as it turns out Friedman and I are equally inept at translating those mysterious lines and symbols on a map. Luckily, our navigator was kind enough to bike to us and redirect our misguided wheels back towards the Atlantic. 20 miles remaining, Larry led the way as Gary and I attempted to come to grips with our last day on the bike. In the end, I just couldn’t do it. Perhaps the tomorrow morning will bring that realization to my weary body.

Winding our way through Newburyport, Larry relinquished the lead and Gary and I made our way onto Plum Island with our trusty Tour director. And, at long last, the sight we had been seeking so desperately for nearly five weeks was finally upon us. The Atlantic ocean was cemented into my gaze, and within reach. Within reach; that’s a hard fact to fathom. After so many miles, states, challenges, and fatigued muscles, that enormous body of water was within my reach. Pedaling my way to it I felt emotionally numb. I guess I always felt I would make it, but a small side of me never fully accepted it. And yet, 3,500 miles later, here I am pedaling my ever faithful Trek along the sand spattered streets of Plum Island and toward that glorious, faithfully beckoning siren.

Splashing my sheet white feet in the turbid, bitterly cold waters a smile slowly spread across my face. I was standing in the salty waters of the Atlantic, its dark blue waters spread out in front of me for as far as I could see, and still I could not accept it as reality. The ride had been difficult, sometimes it felt like insanity to climb aboard yet again and stroke a few more miles out of it, and yet looking back it didn’t seem that difficult. Hindsight does have a way of ironing out the difficulties encountered, and leaving behind only the enjoyment that those moments held. Maybe that’s what I am experiencing, and maybe not. I still do not know how far I can push my body, and more importantly, my spirit. Yet, standing in these waters, with one of my best friends by my side and holding our road beaten bikes on these sandy shores, I have a better idea of the truth of the matter. The honest answer is that it is not all that important about discovering exactly how far I can push myself. Only the moments held in attempting to discover that personal question are truly worth contemplating. As the old saying goes, it is not about reaching the summit, but about the journey to get there. My journey has taught me the truth of that statement, and at the same time, the flaw in it.

Gazing into the distant horizon, my gaze slips downward and I am entranced as the water washes sand away from my sun deprived feet. Perhaps it’s symbolic of all the hardships and tests of will that this sojourn has put forth; now they are quietly removed and I am left with only my triumph and accomplishment. With that thought, I realize this bike ride was both about the daily journey AND about reaching this particular summit; for it is the summit that makes the journey worth taking. Lots of emotions cascade through me, but their clarity remains dim so for today, I will just enjoy my sea level summit. For today, I believe I have earned it...

Day 32 – July 18

2008-07-18T19:47:00.003-05:00

Waking up a tad after 5 am (shrugging off slumber in my usual way, a wake up call from Friedman) I started to focus on the task at hand. Today’s ride would contain nearly 8,000 feet of climbing, and I would be forced to earn every foot of it. The ride was drawing to a close, but it was not going to lay down quietly in accepted defeat; I still had to prove that I am up to the challenge of conquering this great land on two wheels, regardless of how close to the calm waters of the Atlantic that I am.

Nearly 38 miles into the ride I hit the first big climb of the day, Gary and I said our farewells and I set out to beat this piece of jagged earth one stroke at a time. Feeling exhilarated with the thought of actually making it to the climatic conclusion for my ride, all in a days time, I pushed into the pedals hard and kept up a frantic pace. Sweat rolling down my wind broken face, dripping onto my pumping limbs, I still found time to peer through the heat and take in the sights and sounds of this beautiful land. New York was a treat to ride through, but I found myself particularly fascinated with Vermont. There was something nostalgic about this entire state; from the forested lands to the majestically old towns, everywhere my gaze fell I was struck with the history of the area. I can definitely see myself coming back to Vermont for some kayaking and sight seeing with the wife; the land and area is gorgeous and should be experienced multiple times.

After breaking through the second noteworthy climb of the day, I began my white knuckled descent. Avalanching down the mountain, I was soon struck with a sight I had no interest in seeing; thick billows of inky black smoke shrouding the sky above the thick Vermont forest. As I came around a bend, I saw brilliant orange flames licking the sky as it gorged its self on a victimized wooden cabin. The fire was fresh and its appetite had not been satiated by a fireman’s hose; since no firefighters were on the scene yet. I did encounter countless fire-trucks careening up the mountain roads after I had passed through the smoke and scene of tragedy. During lunch I spoke with Gary about the fire, and he mentioned that when he came upon it, it had been snuffed out by the geyser filled hoses of the fire-trucks. I must admit, when I first saw the smoke and flames, I had a brief surge of fear. We have all read or seen on television reenactments of forest fires that quickly turn to into a fiery storm of death. On my two wheeled mount, I had no intentions of witnessing such destruction first hand or in foolishly trying to outrun it.

I ended today’s ride just past the final climb of my wheeled journey. There now remains a mere 60 miles separating my bike and I from that soul-stirring call of the Atlantic. Tomorrow, at long last, I shall answer its summons...

Day 31 – July 17th

2008-07-17T21:12:00.003-05:00

My ride today started off a few minutes before 7 am, and all was going well. I was back on the machine that I have come to love over the last 30 days, and I must say it felt terrific to be reunited with my close carbon friend. She performed beautifully today; no creaking and the shifting was smooth as silk. It’s a glorious and beautiful experience to have a piece of equipment operating flawlessly as you give it all the power your legs can muster while pushing through a hill. It’s truly beauty incarnate.

The first 20 miles disappeared in a flurry of pedal strokes, but soon the strokes came to a standstill as we flowed into the bottle neck of rush hour traffic in Utica, NY. Luckily our trusty Tour Director was nearby and got us onto much more biker friendly highways. Though it cost an hour of downtime as we worked our way through the clustered urban sprawl, it was soon history and I was back on the crank and making great progress once again. Not long after a shortcut was discovered and I left Highway 5 behind to partake in the clodding roads of Stone Arabia. Confronted with a series of steep, yet short, climbs as I rolled onto the nearly abandoned highway, I realized I was in for a surprised treat of climbing. Smiling at my good fortune, I soon was in sync with the road and my Trek and took full advantage of the situation. Sweat pouring off my brow, knees groaning with self induced pressure, I kept up a healthy pace and pushed through the spires of earth. As I did so I was rewarded with a glimpse into a simpler time. A few miles into Stone Arabia, I realized I was in the heart of Amish country. Encountering horse and buggies sharing the roadway, in addition to viewing a young man hard at work with a plow and attached equestrian, I was amazed at their technology tenacity. They are a prime example of human endurance and will power; casting stereotypes and societies commonalities to the winds. Watching children at play, attired in their cultural garb, I couldn’t help but think that the differences in their culture and the one I grew up in really is not that different; kids still just want to play and enjoy life regardless of where they are. But what would it be like as an adult in their community? Would the differences be as gross as they appear from the outside looking in? My guess is no. I am sure their culture has many of the same stresses and daily issues that we all experience, for in the end we are all human.

The scenery on this route included more than just the Amish built houses though; the rolling ridge line I was pedaling over contained a kaleidoscope of scenes. At times it reminded me of Oregon, with the trees, ridges, and waterways, yet it has a beauty all of its own. Many times people talk of the beauty of New York and I would immediately think of the cement sprawl that is NYC; but these last couple of days of wheeling through the countryside has shown me the flaw in that perception. I now understand why people would want to live here; it’s full of ‘aha’ moments. Scenes that make you stop, if only for a second, and think to yourself “This is why I am alive, for moments like these.” This cycling tour has proven to be amassed with such moments. Fortune has smiled its kindly face upon me for the last 31 days.

The one other picture etched into my gray matter deals with an abandoned bridge. Standing stoic above the waters below, the chalky white stone, stained with years of exposure, it regally spanned the banks. Long cast aside by man in his quest for superior support, the bridge has slowly begun to lose the echo of foot and hoof traffic. Today, it serves as a resting place for foliage and the occasional fauna. Though it has long been in disrepair, you feel the need to respect its ability to survive, and the wisdom of the community in its decision to not tear it down. While it can no longer sufficiency function in a day of gasoline powered steel, the history that winds its away around the eroding arches can not be ignored. Out of respect for a life well spent, and a time well honored, it was left to continue its original job; to connect the east and west bank. Its perseverance is inspiring.

I wrapped up today’s ride up in Latham, NY and now have but two days remaining in my quest. Two days and this adventure will come to its climatic ending. Yet, I already realize its not the summit I am concerned with, but the journey to get here. A journey of self awareness and perseverance; a journey well worth the price demanded. I am both excited and saddened by the idea of concluding this crazy biking lifestyle that I have lived for the last month.

Day 30 – July 16th

2008-07-16T20:25:00.003-05:00

During the course of this trip, I have often found myself confronted with an internal battle of addiction. Over the last few years I have had a harder and harder time dealing with it; I’d hoped that cycling away the majority of my day would equate to less time to think about it and thus less time to succumb to it. I am proud to say that during this entire journey the temptation has only proven too strong once. However, that does not mean the constant attack upon my will power has gone away or remained hidden; quite the contrary in fact. Often times the only thing that keeps me in the saddle when confronted with my drug of choice is the support of Gary. Many of my friends and family may know of it already, but some of you may be unfamiliar with this powerful narcotic-like substance I am always battling.

Well two days ago was one of the toughest bouts I have ever had in dealing with it; I actually came across a sign advertising for it! Early into the ride, cranking on the pedals, feeling light yet strong, I was really getting into the days ride when I saw a billboard that nearly knocked me off my bike. I could not believe the inconsiderate bastards would promote a direct confrontation to my senses. The sign read “Antique Store: Over 40,000 books”. How could they? While I am well into the seven steps of the recovery program, being smacked with 40,000 used books is more than one man should have to face. Had it not been for Gary screaming at me from behind to keep moving, I know without a doubt I would have been in there, nose deep in books, looking for some old classics. Wow, I was close to a total and complete regression of my hard earned progress. Thanks Gary for helping me stay strong!!!!

As you can imagine, this morning I had to suffer another test: Glen’s Rare and Used Books beckoned and this was only a few miles after starting out. I really wasn’t prepared, but still managed to resist. Seriously though, someone should have done a better job of plotting this course so that I could better focus my efforts on cycling than avoiding books. Ahh well, like so many other pains on this great adventure, I will just have to deal with it.

The ride, aside from the books, was going great today. I was feeling strong on the bike, and the right knee, which has been tight the last couple days, was finally starting to loosen up. The only issue I was really having was the annoying ‘creaking’ sound that was being produced by my tone deaf bike. And old faithful had been making the same bloody ear music for the last couple of days. There was definitely something going on with the crank, bottom bracket, chain, or rear cassette. Finally, after 180 miles of dealing with the grinding, I came to the nerve fried conclusion that I needed to get it into a bike shop; today. After stopping for a quick bite to eat at a small family diner, Larry had a shop picked out and we were setup to get it taken in. While Gary and I took care of business on the road, Larry did the same with my malfunctioning machine. My initial thought was that the bottom bracket had water in it, and thus the bearings were making the awful sound. The mechanic Larry brought it too thought the same thing and soon had the bottom bracket cleaned out and re-greased. Yet the sound remained. Over the next several hours this master wrench put my bike through the ringer; switching out cranks, pedals, the big ring, cassette and finally the entire rear wheel. After doing a remarkable job in diagnosing the problem, which was the housing of the rear hub, he sent Larry and the bike to a local Trek dealer to have the problem resolved. The Trek dealer was able to get the housing replaced, and all appears well. He did inform Larry that this is a known problem and should it recur to bring it to another dealer and they will switch the entire rear wheel out; he would have switched it out versus just the housing but did not have the wheel on hand. None the less, after hours of patience on Larry’s part and some pretty astounding wrench work, my bike is back and will be with me as I set out tomorrow for another day of riding in New York. While I am very thankful to have had Gary’s other bike available for the final 40 miles of today’s ride, I missed the geometry and feel of my own bike terrible. After 3,000 miles in 30 days, we’ve formed quite a strong bond.

The day ended with us in Oneida, NY fully geared up and anxious for the next three days. Mr. Adams joined us again for our traditional post ride salute.

Day 29 – July 15th

2008-07-15T20:24:00.002-05:00

Waking up way too early, according to me not Friedman, I glanced at the clock and saw it was time to start prepping for today’s ride. Pushing myself out of bed, I glanced down and couldn’t help but give a slight chuckle when a looked at my hand. I realized I was at the point in my ride where I could count the days remaining on a single hand; wow, crazy realization to wake up to! Who would have thought it’d be here already? Five days to go and then I would be standing on those sandy shores gazing into that ocean and inwardly smiling with the knowledge that I had made it. But, there are those five days of pedaling, so I had better focus on today and deal with Saturday when it gets here.

Rolling out onto the cycling paradise that the roads of New York are turning out to be, Gary and I set to work early and were off and flying. Rolling over the terrain, I couldn’t help the constant glances I cast over my shoulder to the gargantuan body of water Lake Erie is. Every time I topped a small rise, or came through a clearing of trees, the silent watcher was within view and I couldn’t resist another quick peak. I was definitely enjoying my time in the Great Lakes presence.

Stopping for a quick bite about 30 miles in, we saw Larry talking to another cyclist; the same cyclist he’d run across the day before. Gill (pronounced Jill, but short for Gillian. Great name by the way), is a Scottish cyclist currently biking across America to raise awareness of arthritis; a disease that has been a plight to her mother. After stopping at Larry’s cycling shop for a refuel, we got back on the road and soon found ourselves pedaling along side Gill. She was a great conversationalist; as eager for human conversation as I was. I learned that she is not only a cycling nut, but a librarian; how cool! She works for Scotland’s equivalent of the Library of Congress; sounds like a career that I would enjoy. We lunched with Gill, and then went our separate ways. She was a strong cyclist, a very bright individual, and I am sure will have no problems making her final destination in Maine within the next two weeks. Best of luck Gill!!

The day was starting to get late, after taking a long lunch and spending some quality time chatting with Gill on the bikes, so with nearly 80 miles to go after our break at Applebee’s we started to knock it up a notch. But the speeds were not to remain consistent, as we encountered multiple hills on our route today. I have noticed over the last several days that we have definitely left the plains behind and wheeled into the hill country again. No worries. Hills are much preferable to mountains!

Gary and I made good speed over the remaining miles, and with about 20 miles to go Friedman put in a Superman pull. With a nice breeze to our benefit, he knocked it up to 26 mph and more; it was great. Not to be outdone, I took over after he put in a long pull and did a fair share of pulling as well. It was a trip to push the bike in excess of 30 mph and to be able to switch off the lead like that. After that, we rolled through a few miles, as then entered some small towns, with about 5 miles to go I hit another climb and I figured with the legs still feeling fresh I mine as well burn em up. So I let the Goat loose and we climbed the hill as fast as I could push her and then kept the pace going till Lima. The legs were screaming at a few points, trying to remind me that there were still 4 more days to go, but after passing a sign stating Lima had been established in 1788, I figured if it could last since damn near the signing of our Constitution I certainly could hold the pace another couple miles.

The ride wrapped up at the American hotel, a 150 year old antique of a hotel that has more history than some countries. I also loved the fact that the hotel had a bar with some local micro brews on tap; it was calling my name as soon as I dismounted. It was another great reward to a great ride. Cheers!

Day 28 – July 14th

2008-07-14T19:44:00.003-05:00

Today’s ride started out similar to the last several days, not with rain but with my legs feeling uncanny and fresh; they seemed to be aching to ride. Well there wish was soon granted as I climbed upon the rough trodden Trek and pushed on towards the goal for the day; New York.

56 miles into the ride, as I peaked one of the few climbs of the route, I thought I caught a glimpse of a massive expanse of black hiding just behind an extensive line of trees. Was that Lake Erie? I asked myself. Not knowing for sure, I continued on in hopes of getting a more up close and friendly view of it. A couple dozen miles later, all doubts were banished. Standing on the pedals to quell another hilly foe, I heard Gary shout from behind “I bet we can see it from up there.” There was no need to define ‘it’ as he could mean but one thing: the Great Lake Erie. Picking up the tempo I crested the hill and with soft green vineyards sprawling on both sides of the highway, I cast a brief glance over my left shoulder and finally beheld ‘it’ in all its massive glory. The waters near the shoreline far below showed a mixture of faint blues with patches of jade. Farther out, the lake deepened to a liquid black pearl with crests of white upon it. For as far as I could see the lake just went onward. It was astonishing in its sheer size. The description Great Lake is not apt to express the vastness of this body of water. Land-locked Ocean comes much closer to touching upon the truth.

As I crossed over the century mark for the day, I entered into the Empire State: New York. By doing so, both Ohio and Pennsylvania had been left behind and I was a couple of states closer to that great beckon of riders, the Atlantic. But recently, it is New York that has been on my mind. Having never been to this state, I was really excited about finally setting foot and wheel on its soils. As I pedaled into its borders, a strange excitement took hold of me and melted away the fatigue, limb weariness, and total body exhaustion as if they were nothing more than small lumps of wax. Casting a smile back at Larry, as he snapped a picture of this momentous occasion, my legs went into overdrive. Soon I was pounding out at 27+ mph. For the next ten miles I kept the pace up as Gary and I flew to our stopping point for the day: Westfield, NY. Even after I had climbed off the bike and begun our post ride routine (unpack the car, clean the bikes, get laundry going, drink a beer etc) my legs still wanted more. The pace into town was just a teaser and they wanted to know how much faster and how much longer could they maintain? 5 days is my quick response. Just 5 days more…

Day 27 – July 13th

2008-07-13T20:18:00.003-05:00

As I go through my morning routine of preparation and packing, a thought strikes me: Today will be the last Sunday that I saddle up and ride east. Including today, there are only 7 days in which I will have to coax miles out of my lactic filled legs. A week; no longer is this ride about 3,600 miles, but rather a mere week in the saddle knocking out pedal strokes. A week? Yeah, I can do a week. Not sure how, but I know if need be I will drag, push, and pull my bike but I will see that ocean on this sick love affair of a ride. With that thought, I clip in and push on. The Atlantic beckons, and I have no power but to heed her call for another week.

My ride starts out very similar to yesterdays: wet. Last night, before the sandman pulled me into slumber, the clouds outside grew heavy with rain and this morning as I awoke the earth was being pelted with that cloud heavy burden. No worries, though, since a late start is still a start. And so, a few minutes after 8 a.m., I am breakfast laden and rolling down yet another highway of this glorious country. The rain is persistent, but not stinging, and the first 30 miles drizzle away with nothing to show for it but a wet bike, a wet biker, and me closer to my ultimate goal. As I pedal along, slowly pulling away from Gary as it’s too miserable to draft with the spray coming off the lead bike, I grow excited for today and what it will bring. When I reach the 70 mile marker for the day, I have a prize awaiting me; family. My sister, Wendy, her RAA enthusiastic husband, Jeff, and two amazing kids Austin and Josie live in the Ohioan town I will be pedaling through; Cuyahoga Falls. Rolling into town a little after 12, I am wet, filthy but still smiling as I am drawn into hugs. While I load up on calories, we all engage in conversation about anything and everything. Its just great getting to see them all, especially considering I haven’t seen Austin in more than a year, Wendy in a couple of years, Josie since she was a few weeks old, and the last time I saw Jeff I was getting married. It has been much, much too long.

Soon though, the sun continues his eternal struggle to cross the sky and reminds me I must continue my own struggle. So with good byes and promises to see them later that night, I convince myself to stumble into the saddle and go forth yet again. With a pleasant tailwind encouraging my ride, the 114 miles this day consisted of are soon behind me. My legs are still feeling fresh, the knees are pain free, and even the bike seems hungry for more; but they will have to wait for tomorrow’s morning call to begin again. I am surprised when Gary tells me that we did more than 3,000 feet of climbing over today’s course; I feel much too fresh for that fact to ring true. I knew the course today felt more volatile in the rises and dips, but it didn’t feel like 3,000 feet of ascending. In fact, reflecting back on it, I can only remember one climb that was worthy of remembrance; and that only because I botched my attack. After missing a turn (this seems to be becoming habit) I dove around a corner and confronted a beast of a hill guarding my way forward. No worries, I’d slain bigger of his kin. Cranking into it, I soon found myself out of the seat and pounding hard to keep my bike moving. Gary soon yelled out that the hill was a ghastly 18 percent grade, and it was at that time that I realized I was in my big ring up front. Usually, when you climb steep hills, you switch into your smaller ring as it eases the pressure on your legs and allows a better cadence with less pain. I, in my anxiety to slay the beast, failed to switch to the bottom ring and now that I was more than half way up, I had too much torque on the chain to try and slip into the ring I needed. Like so many other times on this ride, I found myself with only one option; pedal on. And that is what I did, ignoring the searing pain in my thighs, I found a slow, hard rhythm and pushed my way to the summit. At the top, sore but alive, I could only laugh at my feat and my own stupidity. Ahh, life on the bike.

That night a feast is brought to my door, literally. Wendy, Jeff, Austin and Josie hand deliver supper to Gary, Larry and I; man are we spoiled! After nearly 5 weeks of dining out, a home cooked meal is a blessing heaven sent. After sampling a local brew suggested by Jeff (I had to re sample it, just to make sure I got the taste right) we ate the wonderful fare and relaxed in each other’s company. Its amazing how much we take for granted, or what we are missing out on, until it is presented to us again. It was truly wonderful getting to see family on this whirlwind of a trip. Thank you Austin, Josie, Jeff, and Wendy! I appreciate you guys taking time out of your lives to drive to Warren, and for bringing supper and the great company. I wish I could see you guys more, but right now I’m just grateful for the couple hours I got to spend in your lives today. Take care, all of you.

Day 26 - July 12

2008-07-12T20:11:00.002-05:00

Clipping in, I gaze into the distance and wonder for a brief second: What will it be like when I see the Atlantic Ocean? Will I laugh, cry, or perhaps silently ponder the feat? I don’t know, but I do wonder... Ahh well, there is really only one way to discover that answer; so I pedal on.

During the initial 30 miles I found myself skirting the edge of an Ohioan storm; the smoky grey sky is full of anger and rain; but no lightening. I hoped that I would be fortunate and could find a way through this storm cell without getting hit by its burst of raw, wet power. Cranking the pedals even harder, I set out to do just that; but alas it was not meant to be. Soon the clouds opened up and down came the rain, falling upon me and my recently cleaned bike. Pausing at the SUV to see what the weather was going to do, the rain soon subsided in intensity and I was back on the leather and moving down the asphalt. The floodgates finally blew away as we entered Glandorf and we wisely sought sanctuary at a local convenience store. While the current cell blew its self out on the cyclist free streets, I fueled up on coffee and a taco salad. Not an overly efficient fuel stop, but the calories were great and the coffee core warming. Once again the rain subsided, and I climbed back on the saturated seat in saturated shorts and pedaled on into the rain. The rain was not overly miserable; while it had me drenched thoroughly in a few brief minutes, the day remained warm and the precip not particularly stinging. It could have been much worse. Pushing the wheels on the wet streets, a few concerns slid across my minds eye. I reminded myself to stay on the defensive, keep a firm grip on the handlebars, while riding on these recently wet streets as slick spots are highly probably. I also worried about my hindquarters, as a wet seat and wet shorts can make short work of it. There was nothing I could really do about that, so I ignored the discomfort and focused on the road in front of me.

Around mile 75 I rode out of the steady rain, and was able to finish the next 35 miles in relatively dry conditions. The weather was starting to cooperate again, but the roads remained treacherous, and not just because they were slick. During the last several days I have noticed that I am riding into the more populous part of the Land of the Free. While this is great when it comes to finding a place to stop and fuel up for lunch, it is making the riding a bit more challenging and painful. The roads I have frequented on this excursion reside in the rural countryside, are not major highways, and recently their condition has started to rapidly deteriorate. Several of the other states I have ridden through have had roads in much better shape. My guess is that these country roads, in Illinois, Indiana and now Ohio, see a higher amount of traffic but do not have suitable funds available to keep them adequately maintained. Thus, biking on them becomes less about cranking out miles, and more about finding my way through a mind filled maze. For the most part, I can see the potholes coming and respond accordingly, but there are times when they sneak up like an old fox and I have no choice but to nose dive into the crater and feel a shocking sensation burst through my wrists and course up to my elbows. At times such as this, pleasantries do not come out of my maw; the words that escape lie on the other end of the spectrum.

The ride wrapped up in Willard, Ohio 110 miles from where the day began. With today finished, there remains only a week of riding left; a week to complete this cyclone adventure. That is a hard fact to fathom. So, for now, I’ll leave it alone.

Physically, the body is still doing great. These last few centuries have not been all that demanding; the land is flat and the weather accommodating. I have been vastly fortunate with the streak of blue-sky/stay-dry type of riding conditions that this trip has consisted of. If today is the worst day we encounter for rain, than I will have been truly blessed. The knees have been behaving themselves, and the legs feel fairly strong. The butt is doing as well as can be expected (often the hardest part on the ride is forcing myself back onto that brick hard saddle for the first time each morning). The lower back and neck are a little tight from all the miles hunched over, but still operating well. With all things considered, I am quite pleased with the way my body has responded over the last 4 weeks. Now it has to do it for only 7 more glorious days. And then I shall wonder no more…

Day 25 – July 11th

2008-07-11T20:01:00.003-05:00

After fueling up on eggs and hash browns at the local diner (one of two places to eat in Winamac) we were once more on that tiny piece of real estate known as a seat and pumping the legs over virgin soil. The scenery was much the same, fields of corn and other cash crops dotting the lands to the east, but the frequency of habitation was much higher; we are getting into the more settled area of America. Ten miles into the ride, I started battling a monster that haunts a lot of endurance junkies; acid reflux. Prior to this ride, I had only encountered this vile beast on long runs or rides. Knowing this bit of knowledge, Christina started me on a regiment of Pepcid AC the day this crazy wheeled challenge began. However, this morning amidst packing and getting ready for to ride, I failed to take the little pink miracle pill, and boy was I paying for it. I wouldn’t describe it as acid reflux, for it could more aptly be described as acid gurgling. It was turning my easy ride into self contained misery. By mile 20 I could take no more, and stopped at the wheels of healing and frantically searched my bags for some relief. After greedily swallowing the Pepcid AC, I was once again ready to mount up and ride on. A half hour or so later the elven magic instilled in the pill activated, and the demon of reflux was banished back to the bowels of acid where it belongs.

Soon we were making great time as the mild weather pattern of the previous few days was holding, and we knew we could make up the miles quickly. Around 70 miles into the ride we had an involuntary navigation modification (Gary and I missed a turn). Instead of circumventing Fort Wayne, IN we were headed straight for that treasure trove of habitats. It turned out for the best, though, as Larry was able to get us through the city limits on back streets and old highways. Even better, it knocked about 11 miles off the preplanned route; not a bad deal, all things considered. And at this point in the game, knocking off miles is a god send. Keep it up Larry!

The last few miles of the trip, with legs still feeling unchallenged and fresh, I decided to knock the pace up a bit. Instead of strolling in the last 4 miles at 20 mph, I bumped it up to 25. Then 26, 27, 28, 29, and, what the heck, why not push for 30. With about a half mile to go my legs thought it’d be a good idea to slow down, regardless of what the moron in charge of the rest body had in mind. Actually, I felt really good and even when the ride came to a halt at about 108 miles the legs were still feeling great. It’s amazing how the last couple of centuries have felt almost effortless; almost. It probably has something to do with the lack of headwind and a table top flat geographical area that we’ve been spinning over. The ride came to a final stop for the day just south of Payne, Ohio. This means the lands of Indiana are a memory fading into the swirling fogs of the past, and Ohio is the next land to be conquered. I pray I am up to the challenge…

Day 24 – July 10

2008-07-10T10:29:00.002-05:00

The morning started out with another legendary feast courtesy of the Bobby Filet rival himself; John Garrity. Setting up a breakfast bonanza at his office, we rolled in a little before 7 am and got to taste once again the skill that resides in John’s cooking ability. While there, the rest of the staff joined in and soon had us all laughing like school kids. Though, sad to say, I did find myself the butt of the jokes. (Yes, pun intended.)

After waving good bye to John and his great group of coworkers, we pit stopped at Starbucks for some nectar of the morning gods, and then were soon strapped on the bikes for another adventure on rims. Our goal for today: head east. Head east young man, head east.

I followed that single minded goal most of the day, and by doing so left yet another pedal pounded state behind and discovered that I was skimming along the roads of Indiana. My first taste of the home of the Hoosiers was rather unpleasant. The oxen path called a road that we were on was littered with fault lines and canon craters. I believe this specific road was used during a civil war skirmish, with cannon aplenty, and to honor the past has been preserved as such. With heavy traffic (though I can’t understand why people would drive it more than once) on this road less road, drafting became too dangerous and Gary and I split up with 100 yards between us as we navigated through the trenches. It was a new-baby-born joyous occasion when that moon blasted track was left behind, and we were on roads that have been maintained since electricity became prevalent.

Our ride today was a planned 149 leg masher (who planned these days???), but Larry the Logistic was able to stir up some municipal roads that knocked 12 miles off the route. With the 10 extra miles we put in yesterday, this brought down the total distance to a manageable 127 miles. Not bad, all things considered. And even better news awaited us; we are into single digits for days remaining: 9! Wow, 9 days to Atlantic waters and a journey completed. Amazing to consider what the last 24 days have brought me. Life is unfathomable at times.

Day 23 – July 9th

2008-07-09T10:27:00.002-05:00

As I wheeled over the bridge leaving Iowa in my past and bringing Illinois to the forefront of my present, I could not help but smile. Today was a day meant to be enjoyed upon the bike: a slight breeze, mildly warm weather, a clear blue sky dotted with white fluffs of clouds, and 2 great friends. The bridge we pedaled over in the early morning hours brought to mind my sister Wendy, as she loves both heights and bridges in particular. (hehe) I was told this specific bridge was one of the first structures built to span the waters of the mighty Mississippi. The bridge did have a separate bike path added to it, but the path was narrow and constructed of metal grates, which allowed you to peer through them into the murky waters far below. The view, as I slowly made my way over the steel, was exhilarating but tinged with a hint of fear. It would be a long way to fall.

Leading us over the bridge was none other than Bob Loch himself; one of our support guru’s who was along for today’s pedal pushing. We were grateful to have him along so that he could join in the experience and give us a guided ride upon the roads he knows so well. The initial 40 miles of today’s trip would be on the vehicle free bike trail that Bob knows inside and out. Bob has been at the forefront of planning our journey through Iowa, due to the recent flooding our original course was no longer feasible. The last several days, as well as today’s route, were all found, planned, plotted and tested by Bob. He’s done a fantastic job in researching and discovering great, lightly trafficked roads; in so doing he has proven himself to be a very competent bike sleuth. I believe, should he become bored with his current work, he would have a bright future in private investigation work. Rumor mill has it he’s looked into starting a trekking detecting agency, and he’s even considering changing his last name to Sher-Loch…

Briskly moving along the Mississippi, Bob, full of youthful energy and enthusiasm, took the lead and was off like a bottle rocket; Gary and I both struggled to hold his wheel the first 20 miles. He’d obviously been eating his Wheaties! We followed Bob and the bike trail along the Hennepin Canal for miles, it was one of the most pleasant bike trails I’ve ever had the good fortune to ride. At one point early in the ride, we went under a bridge and I found myself looking at a winter wonderland. The canal, calm and placid, was perfectly frozen in time; no debris or flotsam marred its mirrored surface. The only element one could see stirring the canal’s quiet slumber were millions of snowflakes; snowflakes of the cotton-wood variety. The canal, which was lined with cotton woods, had captured an uncountable number of these delicate white seeds and was slowly gathering them along its surface. Shrouded under the magnificent boughs, which were warding off the rays, I pedaled through the scene in suspended disbelief. I was sad to move past the canal and leave such beauty behind. Beauty that I am finding more and more on this trip; what a blessed journey this is turning out to be.

The rest of the day was traveled upon roads with minimal traffic, a few cycle hungry dogs, and lots of laughs. I think Bob found Gary and I quite ridiculous; we tend to break into song and rhyming odes at the oddest times. Hey, when you’ve been biking together for nearly 2,500 miles, you tend to abandon maturity and revel in each other’s sad attempts at humor and melody. What can I say, we are our own greatest entertainers.

The ride concluded in Ottawa, Illinois with another 120 miles under our road stained belts. On top of that, Bob completed his first century of the year; he looked strong all day and will have little issue tackling RAGBRAI in a couple of weeks. Thanks again for pulling Sher-Loch!

After the ride, I was treated to a feast at John Garrity’s pad; John is a friend of both Gary’s and Bob’s from college. The spread he had laid out was royal fare, and mouth salivating good. All home-made food, it was more than we deserved but I was not about to let John in on that little tid bit of knowledge. It looked much too good to pass up. The only thing better than the food, were the hospitality and company. A bunch of Gary’s and Bob’s buddies from school also showed up at Johns, and what started out as small talk and pleasantries soon resorted to stories of glory days. The laughter was whole hearted, genuine, and dished out handsomely to everyone in attendance. But that is as much detail as I will go into regarding the stories related tonight, for what happens at Garrity’s stays at Garritys. Thank you John and all the guys who made me feel welcome this evening; it was greatly appreciated and made for one of the best nights of the cyclone of cycling these last 3 weeks have been.

Day 22 – July 8th

2008-07-08T19:39:00.004-05:00

Pedaling in rhythm with the amphibian chorus that was cheering me on, I departed Fremont and began another voyage upon my always enthusiastic Trek. Having received another inch of God’s tears, the water soaked land was once again saturated beyond capacity and I knew there was more hanging out there. With storm cells north and south of the route today, I wondered how many miles it would take before the cells converged on me and turned my pleasant ride into a treacherous misery. However, fortune was with me as the cycling gods took mercy and today’s ride was dry start to finish. Even a bigger surprise was in store for my dual wheeled trip; that damnable wind took a turn for the better! Instead of berating me incessantly, as it has done on so many days of this endeavour, it decided to help propel me on these Iowan roads. A tailwind; it’s a cyclists biggest dream. While the wind wasn’t blowing overly hard, to have it at my back was a welcome change. Joyous tears once again stream down my face as I write these words; I still can’t come to terms with this reality.

The 125 mile ride today was quite possibly the easiest ride of the trip; there were no big climbs, no vicious breeze, and the temperature remained under 82 for the rides entirety. What are the odds of getting that much fortune on one roll of the dice? Though the little pessimist which resides in us all, the one I had hoped was buried deep, can't help but whisper “Use all your luck now, and you may come to regret it…..” For the present time I’ll ignore that demon and count my blessings; tomorrow and its tidings will come in due course.

The scenery today was akin to the last couple of days; anther paddle of pedals across Iowa’s land ocean of green. Corn and soybean dominated the landscape as usual, with the infrequent farm and cattle ranch. Quite a few times today, when passing hog farms or being passed by cattle trucks, a whiff of dung beetle heaven wafted my way. While it’s a scent familiar to me from childhood, I’m not nearly as fond of it as it seems to be of me. I wish we could cease our encounters and both go on our happy way; as long as I remain in the Midwest I fear that longing will end in futility.

The highlight today came after the bike had been put away, and I was unwinding at Bob Loch’s beautiful abode. For the last week I have been praying to the stars above that one of the hotels we stayed in would come equipped with a hot tub or Jacuzzi; my prayers have gone unanswered so far. Upon arriving in Bettendorf, Iowa I was informed that Bob had a whirlpool that I could use if I so desired. I figured my legs deserved the reward, so I partook in the tub and got to relax the muscles a bit. Oh but it gets better; did I mention that Bob has a TV in his bathroom and not too far away is a fridge stocked with beer? So not only did I get to soak my road weary legs, but I did it while sipping some barley nectar and watching the Tour De France. Heaven you say? Well, who am I to argue...

Day 21 - July 7 a Rest Day - Gear and Food information

2008-07-07T09:29:00.009-05:00

While on the bike yesterday I pondered this blog; when you’re in the saddle for 5+ hours there is plenty of time to ponder. I came to the realization (20 days after starting, what can I say, I’m quick like that.) that some of the people reading this may not be very familiar with cycling; especially an endurance event like this. I thought I would take a few minutes to go over some of the gear we are wearing, the bikes we are riding, and the food and fluids we are constantly consuming.

CLOTHING - Most cyclists wear a cycling jersey and cycling shorts; commonly called a kit. The jersey generally has a zipper in the front (to open for ventilation) and three pockets in the back that are easily accessible and serve as great places to store food. The material of the jersey has a wicking property to it; to help pull the sweat away from the body. The shorts are a spandex type material that has a chamois pad to help protect your glutimus maximus. The shoes have a solid sole with a cleat attached which allows the cyclist to clip into the pedals so that they get both a down-stroke and an up-stroke, thus increasing their pedaling efficiency. The sole is usually a hard plastic or carbon fiber. The shoe I am using is a carbon fiber sole and I am wearing it for a couple of reason; the carbon doesn’t flex which allows me to get more power into my stroke and the carbon fiber keeps its rigidity longer than plastic; generally they can last up to 5 years before they start to flex and need to be replaces.

FOOD and FLUIDS - While in the saddle, it’s hard to eat solid food. Therefore, I have reverted to eating easily chewable foods that contain carbohydrates, protein, and sugar. Over the course of this ride we have consumed Gu, which is an energy filled gel consisting of a mere 110 calories, Clif Blocks, a gummy-bear type food that has about twice the calories of Gu and similar nutritional properties, and Clif bars (a soft type candy bar with about 250 calories). When we stop for a break at the support vessel, we eat either a peanut butter sandwich, a banana, or a turkey sandwich on wheat bread with a little mustard. These foods are our staples while actually in the heat of riding. We do mix it up a bit, by stopping at burger joints from time to time to enjoy a burger versus the mundane turkey sandwich.

In regards to fluids, we actually drink a variety of different products. I have been using Accelerade in my water bottles, for its mix of protein, carbs, sugars, sodium, and potassium. I also will occasionally use regular water. When stopping for a quick bite off the bike, I enjoy V8’s for their powerful accumulation of sodium and potassium. I have also begun drinking soda, which I generally drink less than a can a month, for the sugary charge it can give on really long rides or very hot days. Basically, I try to satisfy my thirst with whatever I seem to be craving at the time. For the most part, V8 has been the answer to my fluid needs when off the bike at a pit stop.

BIKES - The bikes we are riding on consist of a double crank (two gears where the pedals attach to) and a 10 gear cassette; effectively giving us 20 gears to choose from while battling the road. The cassette is the gearing attached to the rear wheel. The frame is carbon fiber, which makes it very light (appreciated immensely when going over the mountains) and it also helps absorb some of the shock of the road; thus sparing our hands, wrists, arms and shoulders the full intensity of the jarring the road throws our way. My bike seat is very small, flat and rock hard; this actually helps to minimize saddle sores when riding for extended periods of time as it cuts down on friction and surface area. I feel obligated to point out that it helps minimize, but as this ride has shown me, does not eliminate! My handlebars are my main point of interest on the ride, as they hold my brakes/shifters and cyclometer and heart rate monitor. During the course of the day, I will look down at my handlebars literally thousands of times to check my speed and current heart rate. Other than that, the bikes are pretty standard. You pedal, and if everything is lined up and the gods are gracious, it goes forward with little difficulty.

We have had some issues with our wheels becoming un-true (wobbly) and brakes rubbing on the tire. But Gary, with his insight, has brought along the right tools to resolve these issues; often quite quickly. The chains that we have been using will last for approximately 1,500 miles before needing to be replaced. When they begin to approach that amount of miles, the chain has generally stretched out from overuse which makes shifting less smooth and more prone to dropped chains. Last night Gary walked me through changing out my old chain with a brand new one; he had the tools and the knowledge to make the process seem almost simple. Gary, in preparing for this trip, has become quite a wrench. One of my goals for this trip has been to learn as much as possible about working on bikes, so that I may cultivate this skill once I am back home and into everyday life again. Thanks Gary for all the help and knowledge!

Day 20 – July 6th

2008-07-06T21:27:00.002-05:00

Buzzing along the bike trail leading into Des Moines Iowa, we slowly made our way along the tree shrouded lane and towards the 20 mile point where we would disembark from the trail and once again be on the car laden roads of Iowa. Arriving at 73rd street, Gary and I crossed under the road and we made our way out of the park and saw Larry crouching hidden dragon style with his camera fluttering. Larry the Laugher also had a great surprise in store for us; how he arranged it remains one of the great mysteries of this ride. Where the bike path ended and the street began sat a long lost friend; Starbucks. Soon I was lounging in a comfy chair, engulfed in the aroma of coffee, sipping a white coffee mocha, and plotting out the details for our course today. It was a great way to start the ride.

Consuming the final drops of flavor, I left the coffee house behind and was flying over the rough shod streets of Des Moines; with each stroke coming closer to the stopping point for the next two days; Fremont, Iowa. Awaiting us in Fremont was a soft bed, a day off the bike, Gary’s lovely bride Kathy, her gracious and accommodating mother, and a delicious spread consisting of meatloaf, corn, mashed potatoes and a warm peach cobbler topped off with homemade ice cream. To say we were excited about this particular stop over point is an understatement; all of us were as overjoyed at the prospect of Fremont.

We fought a head/cross wind the entire ride of our journey today; but it was tolerable since we have dealt with worse. Along the ride I once again was surprised with the machine I call my body. My knees have both been behaving themselves the last couple of days, and my legs have felt surprisingly fresh. Not too deep, but still strong and able to maintain a steady pace during the course of the day. I was also able to thank Gary for all those times he pulled me over roads these last several years by rewarding him in kind today. I hope my limbs continue to feel as limber and solid for the next two weeks. Two weeks; WOW! To think in less than 14 days this opportunistic adventure of motion will come to its climatic finally on the shores of the eastern seaboard. Amazing to reflect on all the miles we have tallied thus far, and of the miles and scenery yet to come. While I am glad for the rest day that tomorrow will bring, I still find myself aching for the saddle and to be moving once more. I guess I’m just a vagabond with a bike.

The environment we tarried through today was yet another crossing of the green ocean that this fertile land has become through the hard and expert work of the laborers of the land. Any direction you peered, green was the answer to your searching gaze. Green upon green upon green, only occasionally broken by a small copse of humanity. What a vast frontier of food this state is! A true bread basket of a great county, and with the global markets, the entire world. The Midwest never ceases to amaze me in all its simple spectacular glory.

Rising with the road, after a brief exertion to gain the elevation the hill demanded, I found myself in a cleft between two ridges of topsoil. On both sides of the straight and narrow grew a purple array of tiny wild flowers. As I made my trek through the hundred yards of highway they encompassed, I was struck with a faint hint of a fragrance I had experienced before. This particular serenade of the senses, which merely tickled my memory, slowly brought to surface the image of freshly cleaned bedding; bedding that had been hung out to dry in a crisp early spring morning, and was just being climbed into for the first time. The flowers that generated this flash of the past were a soft hue of violet and their colors and fragrance were both mild but engaging. During the course of the day I saw these small bells of violet scattered along the ditch several times, and even now I can still smell them. Beautiful.

Our bikes rolled into Bonnie’s homestead of humanity, our first link to reality in weeks, a little before 2:00 pm. Our machines had accumulated another 97 miles in their desire to cross from coast to coast. After a sweaty hug (poor Kathy) Gary, Larry, and I were sprawled in lawn chairs with a cold friend in our paws. It was another beautiful day on the bike, with the gift of a day off awaiting us. The day off will do us as much good mentally as physically. A day to relax, read, write, and just take in life with the absence of a saddle is definitely in order.

Day 19 – July 5th

2008-07-05T21:02:00.002-05:00

Our cyclist adventure today began in Blaire, Nebraska a little after 6:30 am and within only a couple of miles we had left yet another state behind and were rolling into Iowa prairie. The first few miles of the ride were iron-board flat and we made great time in flying over those empty roads. At 10 miles in, however, we began to climb the first of a long, long series of rolling hills. Soon my world consisted simply of pedaling up a hill, down the hill, up a hill down the hill. I found myself stuck in a sick Hollywood film in which I lived in a world of never ending cycle roller coasters; in reality it only lasted for the next 90 miles but at the time I thought an eternity had elapsed. It was exhausting dealing with the constant motion; almost like an angry sea that lifts and drops a boat; only it was on land. I would huff and puff my way up a hill, cranking with as much power as I could muster, only to gain the summit and see three or more hills in the distance coming straight at me. The site was anything but encouraging to my fatigued body and mind.

As the day progressed Gary and I found ourselves separating often due to the fact that we have different climbing and descending cadences. For much of the day I was an isolated cyclist, with nothing but a trusty support vehicle keeping me connected to humanity and the small shred of sanity I had remaining. Much of my morning and afternoon was spent on a lonely, bumpy road, spinning at a decent revolution, all the while defending myself from the territorial red winged blackbirds. Every couple of hundred yards I would wheel into another bird’s territory and apparently they deemed it necessary to flutter overhead and scold me for my un-welcomed violation of their land. The little black buggers were hostile no matter how sweetly I talked to them; though I tried to coo them for hours with niceties. Soon after my failed attempts at diplomacy I found myself fantasizing about a Browning 12 gauge and a few latent shells. I have a sneaking suspicion that would have altered their attitudes and their assessment of me and my Trek.

The scenery along the route today consisted mostly of those golden kernelled homing beacons, growing row upon row, and scattered pasture; intermingled amongst this landscape was the occasional cash crop. The one picture that stands out most in my mind may ultimately be a delusion; as neither Gary nor Bob witnessed it. At one point in the ride, when the head/cross wind was really starting to pick up, I peaked a long climb and as I prepared my body for its well deserved descent I caught a sight of something both Patriotic and Iowan. Standing tire to tire, lined up in a horizontal row facing the highway, proudly sat four generations of tractors; all waving the American flag. The oldest of the tractors was the smallest, and as their age decreased their size increased. The really great thing was that the flags were all sticking straight out as the wind buffeted into them. I couldn’t help but smile at this farmer’s rendition of patriotism. Those four dormant machines each had a story to tell about the men and women they helped to turn these fallow grounds into prosperous land for a growing nation. It was the essence of what this country stands for.

Another sight, not nearly as pleasant, was the slow moving clouds of mist that I viewed repeatedly along the route. The festers of cyclist gnats had a field day as even slower creatures, Gary and I, made our way across their domain. With all the water that Iowa has been bombarded with over the last month, the population of gnats and mosquito’s has grown exponentially. The next several days should be interesting, as we attempt to make it across the saturated countryside with our limbs and blood in tact.

Speaking of the Iowan Ocean, we have been quite fortunate in the roads we have selected thus far; as they have been bike passable and quite friendly to two wheeled machines. We pray we have secured a solid route that will see us safely across the state without encountering washed out roads and bridges; stay posted as further updates on this challenge will be forth coming.

The last 20 miles of our ride tonight took place on a paved bike path from Panora to Alder, Iowa. Aside from Gary’s flat tire (which is becoming habit with him), and nearly being taken out by a Fred, the route was great and we had little trouble crossing it. We ended the day 120 miles closer to the vast waters that are calling us, and of course enjoyed a frosty brew. I would like to thank Brock for the delicious Sam Adams that wet our pallets after a long day in the saddle. Gary, Bob, and I wanted to send our deepest appreciation for this contribution to the ride in the only way we knew how; by emptying them happily and quickly. Thanks bud!

In parting, I would like to send my deepest and warmest appreciation to Bob Loch. Tonight was the final chapter in Bob’s career as support driver for our quest to cross America by bike. Over the last 8 days Bob has been nothing short of a blessing; his hard work to keep us fed, hydrated, and on track have proven invaluable. Bob, thank you for taking part in this crazy bike adventure; it has been an honor and a privilege to spend the last 1,000 miles in your company. You will forever be an integral member of RAA 2008, and I am in your debt. Thank you!!!!!

Day 18 – July 4th

2008-07-04T21:13:00.006-05:00

Continuing on this dual wheeled adventure, we started out of O’Neil, Nebraska with our hearts set on Blair, Nebraska 131 miles away. As I worked to warm up during the first few miles, I began to mentally prepare myself for a hard day on the bike. After the last couple of days in the saddle, I fully realized that my legs had been overly taxed and I would have to pay the piper. I was pleasantly surprised to find my legs feeling fresh and begging for a challenge. It was as if the fatigue had melted away, and two fresh pistons remained; I took full advantage of the opportunity. Generally Gary and I switch off pulling (pulling is the guy in the front working harder to break the wind while the guy behind drafts and conserves energy) every mile to mile and a half, but today I was feeling so good that I found myself pulling for 3 to 6 mile stretches. I at first didn’t know what to think about this energy or where it had come from, but soon I discovered my answer. Today was the Fourth of July. I was feeding off the energy that this country emanates on the day of its conception. I’m an econ major, and have a deep respect for what this country has accomplished over the last couple of centuries. It amazes me to no end.

And today is our Independence Day. As I rolled along prairie mile after prairie mile, I could not help but reflect upon what this day all entails to me, and the fact that I am riding across such a beautiful country during its birthday. And this country is beautiful; both in scenery and in opportunity. Wow, what a joy to be able to do such an amazing adventure at such an incredible time; the emotions this realization brought to me as I sat in the saddle was overwhelmingly powerful and caused a rush of energy.

4th of July. What does that really mean though? With hours and over a hundred miles remaining, I had plenty of time to reflect upon this question. Nearly 250 years ago men and women, like you and I, ceased shaking their heads in silent contempt and stepped into the light and in one voice stated “No More.” “No more oppression; no more tyranny. No longer will we accept the injustice and raping of our rights and liberty in silence. Freedom is an absolute; a right all humans are entitled to.’ And they put life and limb on the line for that right.

I feel fortunate to have forefathers whom had the courage to demand their liberty be restored. In signing the Declaration, I feel they had to know that they were ultimately sacrificing their property, fortunes, and lives; yet they still willing signed. I have heard it said that there are evil men in this world, but that an even greater evil resides in good men; good men who fail to act in times of injustice and oppression. The type of injustice that our country refused to accept so many years ago and through that denial America was given the breath of life. Today, of all the days, is the one time I think we as a people can cast aside our petty differences and regardless of creed, race, and political views unite as a nation on our country’s holiday. Today is the day we all can stop to reflect upon that honorable title that has been bestowed upon us: American. A title that our forefathers earned and passed onto us, and the title that so many people continue to honor today in hope to pass onto heirs yet born. People that honor that title through their daily lives and the work they do. The soldiers, merchants, labors and everyone who makes this country what it is today. Independence Day is not just a day to celebrate those of our past, but to celebrate the men and women who keep those two pieces of parchment (the Constitution and Declaration of Independence) alive and breathing today. Men and women like you. I would like to say thank you and happy Independence Day to you all.

Our ride came to an end for the day in Blaire after 131 miles of hard earned pavement. The final seventeen miles were especially difficult with the south head wind that we were forced to contend with. It was worth it though. We now are more than halfway to our goal; we surpassed the 1,800 mile mark on our sojourn of 3,600 miles to the Atlantic.

I would also like to say thank you to Brock. Brock, a very close friend of mine, lives about an hour from Blaire, Nebraska and gave up part of his holiday to drive and hang out with a couple of road weary cyclists and a support driver for a couple of hours. It was great seeing a familiar face; my only regret is that I didn’t have more time to spend with him. But I think he understands, and knows that one of these days we’ll get to a game and have plenty of time to catch up. In the meantime, he can practice his skills on Kart and maybe have a chance against me. Though, he should realize, there is not enough time in the world to give him a real shot at finally conquering me. My aim is just too deadly with those shells, hehe.

Day 17 – July 3rd

2008-07-03T21:11:00.003-05:00

Christina and I would like to take this opportunity to send our deepest sympathies to the Friedman family during their time of grief. We want you to know that you are all in our thoughts and prayers, and if there is anything we can do please do not hesitate to ask. We love you guys.

Today’s ride began just 5 miles east of Valentine, Nebraska and ended 138 miles closer to our ultimate goal. The ride yesterday was a treacherous journey through the bowels of Hades, and today a leisurely stroll through the Garden of Eden. The wind occasionally made an appearance, but failed to gather his troops for an all out assault like our previous encounter. I believe my prayers to the cycling God were answered; while the elusive tail-wind has still not appeared, after the battle of July 2nd, I have no room to complain about the mild weather that manifested on this day.

Our goal as we set forth today was to make up for the low, but hard earned, miles of yesterday. Moving at a healthy pace of 18 to 20 mph, we soon found ourselves rolling across greener pastures (both literally and metaphorically). The Nebraskan frontier rolled on for as far as your gaze could carry, populated by knee high fields of lush foliage. 30 miles in, I knew we were pedaling in the heartland of America; cornfields began to propagate. While cornfields are not what most people would call a sight of beauty, when you have grown up surrounded by these dark green maize plants, to behold them again after so many years can warm your soul. It makes me feel like I’m on my way home. Home, that one word says it so much better than I can.

Today was one of our best days on the bike, and resulted in the highest amount of miles accumulated on a single day: 138. After such an exhausting day yesterday, to go out and pedal 138 miles was a well deserved surprise. I once again feel that we are back on course to see that expanse of water that remains a vivid vision in our minds eye, and what I believe to be in our destiny. Time will tell, but I feel up to the challenge.

Aside from the fields, the scenery out here was very repetitive. The wildlife was scarce; aside from cows, rabbits, and the infrequent human waving at you like you were a long lost friend. The only other wildlife we encountered had been called upon to meet the Great Biologist; their rotting carapace was all that remained upon the road. Roadkill, no matter the species (rabbit, prairie dog, deer, antelope, cat etc) all smells the same. A gagging stench that brings to mind a beached and bloated carp carcass. Riding by these frequent organisms of death at bike speed, you can’t help but get a few lung-fulls of the aroma. I guess not everything is better experienced upon the bike.

There was one scene of four legged creatures that we were fortunate enough to stumble upon today that I would like to briefly reflect upon. Coming over a small hill early this morning, I noticed off to my left, less than 75 yards away, a small group of horses. Six full grown equines of a very fair brown, tallow hue slowly grazed their way through open pasture. Scattered amongst these proud creatures, were two young colts; yearlings at the most. All legs, these youngsters were caught up with the energy and excitement of being alive and displaying that joy in youthful bursts to awkwardly gallop amongst their elders. You could not help but laugh at the colts as they played, yet struggled to gain mastery over what would become such massively powerful limbs. While uncouth in their use of muscle, you couldn’t help but feel that they nonetheless had a silent grace hidden just below the surface. You could also see that over the next several months that elegance would emerge for them both. This sight and insight may have been the best part of the day.

We disembarked from our pleasant journey a little before five tonight, and all three of us (Gary, Bob and myself) were overjoyed with the miles completed. It was the second longest ride in both Gary’s and my cycling career, and the longest of the trip so far.

Bob has done an amazing job these last few days, always ready to help boost our bodies and spirits with support. This ride would not be the high caliber adventure it has been to date without him. Thanks for all your hard work Bob. I would also like to thank everyone who has offered us kind words of encouragement and support over these last two and half weeks. Even though we may not have the time, or energy, to always respond promptly, please know that your thoughts and words have been greatly appreciated. Thank you!

Day 16 – July 2nd

2008-07-02T21:09:00.003-05:00

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.

Day 15 - July 1st

2008-07-01T21:13:00.003-05:00

Eat. No. Eat. I can’t. Just eat it. I wont be able to keep it down though. You have to eat it or you’ll hit the wall. I don’t care, bring the wall on. Oh just shut up and eat it.

That was the conversation today between my mind and stomach. I knew I needed to eat due to the fact that I am burning through more than 5,000 calories a day. But eating was monstrously unappealing today, probably because the Nebraska frontier was a cycling crematorium today. Between the heat and my intake of mass amounts of fluids to stifle the process of turning my insides into parchment, I just could not stir up an appetite. Every bite I took in my task to consume those needed calories was a torturous compromise between knowing and feeling; I knew I needed it, but I just didn’t feel like consuming it. I like food, but even before this ride started I often found myself forcing the intake of food; I don’t always enjoy the repetitive motion of downing the various forms of energy our meals come in. There is nothing wrong with it, I just feel like it is often a chore versus a pleasure. And since this ride has begun, eating has gone from an occasional annoyance to outright anguish. But, this too is just another lesson of the road. Sometimes you are forced to ignore the pains in a tight thigh, sore back, irritated knee, or even your own signs of hunger, or lack there of; you just have to shut up and chew.

Today’s ride took us over 118 miles of Nebraskan topsoil. The roads were sketchy during portions of the day; road maintenance out here in no-mans land is done in sections of 10 to 30 foot blocks, and where one block ends and another begins there tends to be a crevice. Typically this crevice is filled with a tar like substance to make the transfer from one portion of the road to the next transparent. Unfortunately, the slabs of cement have a tendency to settle, or the tar to deteriorate, and you are left with a sizable crack between each block of road. This creates a very bumpy ride on a road bike; you and your bike are constantly being poured over a series of bumps that send a series of shocks crashing through your upper torso. Every few seconds my bike and I created another ‘thump’ and the pain of the road pulsated through my hands, wrists, forearms and into my weary shoulders. By the time mile 110 rolled around my left wrist was screaming in agony; pleading for some sort of relief from the grueling beast that highway 20 had become. But, unfortunately for my wrist, the only sanctuary in sight was mile marker 118; until then there was no real choice but to grin and bear it. Well the grinning part may be far fetched, but the bearing part was real enough.

One of the best Kodak moments of the day presented its self early in the ride; about mile 30. Rolling into Bob’s haven on wheels, our guru of support pointed out a site that both Gary and I had missed in our single focused goal of arriving at the slice of heaven that SUV has become. Behind us, standing guard over its vast territory of rolling hills, copses of trees, streams of silver, and the numerous animal denizens, stood an ancient ridge of bluffs. The sheared rock faces, hundreds of feet above its own foothills, were bitterly old, yet presented a feeling of youthfulness innocence to them. These pillars of granite like solidarity were immortalized by Mr. Loch when he captured them with his photographic eye. I believe he even posted a picture of the riders with these youthful ancients silhouetted proudly in the backdrop.

The biggest factor of the ride today was the heat; it soared to 90 degrees by 10:00 am and only managed to climb from there. I believe it topped out at a moisture destroying 95 degrees; not a good day to be in the saddle for 6+ hours. There were portions of the ride, when the ever present wind settled down, in which you could literally feel the heat pilfer your hard earned moisture and leave nothing behind but a continuous patch of salt flaking away on your skin. The heat was not content to come at us just from above either; you could also feel the heat radiating off the scalding road. Thankfully, we were off the bikes by 2:30 and settled into our climate controlled SUV. An ice cold beer has not tasted that good, or that well earned, in a very long time; yesterday perhaps.

Day 14 – June 30, 2008

2008-06-30T21:41:00.003-05:00

Leaping onto our trusty steeds, we headed out of Glenrock, Wyoming and made haste for the border; the Nebraska/Wyoming border that is. The early morning hours found us pounding pavement on the interstate for the first 40 miles or so; after which we would depart and continue on our quest along highway 20. The scenery along the route was very similar to yesterdays ride until approximately 60 miles in; at which time the pale yellows and browns were morphed into the green hay fields that populate the landscape of the Midwest. Looking out over the rolling hills of green, with barely a trace of humanity, I found myself thinking back upon my first 20 years of life. I grew up in small town South Dakota, and no matter where I live, it is still home. Overlooking these fields of fertile soil, with old time windmills, faded barns, dust packed gravel roads, and the wide open sky, I couldn’t help but feel at ease. I once again was back home. Whether I will ever actually dwell here again, remains a mystery; but my visits to this area are always cleansing and satisfying. I don’t know what it is, but the smell of fresh cut hay, mixed with the many pollens and aromas that bombard the air, cause a slow smile to creep across my worn out face. And with that smile, the many miles of riding fatigue and muscle soreness drain away; if only for a brief moment. Home, there is no place like it.

We attained our goal today when we coasted to finish 107 miles after beginning today’s task; we had left Wyoming behind us and were firmly on Nebraskan soil. Nebraska, home of the Cornhuskers and now 2 crazy cyclists and their equally insane support driver ; at least for a few days. Seeing the state sign, which Bob got a great shot of us as we pedaled by it, was one of my happier moments on this trip. I don’t know why, but of all the states we have entered, this one has been the most meaningful. Perhaps its because I am now really in the Midwest; a place filled with so many fond and profound memories. Speaking of Bob, I wanted to say that once again I was right. (that’s for you babe) My prediction a couple days ago that Larry was handing us over to Bob’s capable hands has been spot on. He’s done a terrific job of getting into the routine, picking great spots for a brief break, scouting ahead for possible issues, and always being close by should any mishap arrive. Thanks for all the support Bob, this ride would not be happening without you.

The body is continuing to put up with the daily brutish punishment with happy reluctance. My right knee performed marvelously today; I am so proud of the round lil guy! It’s evil twin, however, is continue to refuse to play nice. I even went so far as to threaten her with replacement; but she called my bluff so it looks like I’m stuck with her stubbornness for a few more days.

By the way, we are 1,414 miles in after 14 days of pedal power; which means we have less than 2,200 miles to go! I yearn, daily, for those blue waters of the might Atlantic. That will be a welcome site indeed!

Day 13 – June 29th

2008-06-29T21:40:00.002-05:00

Bob, the newest member of our chaotic team, drove us 35 miles east of Riverton, Wyoming (the exact spot where we had stopped yesterday) this morning and kicked us out of the SUV with nothing but our bikes and our ever decreasing ego’s. Before we could get a single pedal revolution completed, Mother Nature sent an emissary our way. Moving with the grace of complete freedom, a buck deer eyed us from a distance of 100 yards. Silhouetted in the early morning sunlight, we could make out his majestic stature as he slowly advanced our way. Soon he had halved the distance and his proud antlers posed over his ever alert ears became visible; antlers shrouded in velvet. His coloring was akin to the gentle brown seen on a young oak sapling. Showing no sign of hesitation or fear, he approached even closer; soon no more than a dozen yards away from our surprised eyes. Watching this silent creature, with horns that could put a hole through my torso, I was momentarily struck with one of the oldest of human emotions; fight or flight. With his weapons attached to his crown, as well as his ever capable hooves, I had no valorous ideas of tangling with this mighty creature; luckily he harbored on such thoughts of heroics either. After checking us over for a few moments, he made his way back into his domain and was soon out of our lives.

The ride today was a modest ride, when considering some of the previous rides we have completed. We ended the day in Glenrock, Wyoming; approximately 109 miles from our point of origin. The view along the right was very similar throughout the entire ride; a mixture of subtle browns, yellows, with the occasional patch of green. Scattered in the foliage, were antelope, deer, and coyotes.

At mile 84 we reached Casper, Wyoming where we rallied with our support expert for a quick bite to eat. After the pit stop to refuel the tank, we left the friendly ghost behind and 25 miles later were pedaling into Glenrock. The hotel we are staying in tonight is an old time beauty. Built in 1916, the Higgins Hotel has an ancient nobility all about it. It’s the type of hotel that you would have expected a President to slumber in during the buildings glory days; such as the old moose Teddy R during his many trips to Yellowstone. The rooms are large, the beds comfortable, and everything in it has an antique story to it. Stepping through the doors, you feel as if you just entered a portal to a time lost in history. Of all the places we have stayed, this historic monument is my favorite. It is gem of a hotel, snugly hidden in the hills of Wyoming.

Before I finish my rambling for yet another day, I wanted to take a moment to answer a question a few people have asked me in regards to this trip. “What do you think about when you are on the bike that long?”

There are a vast amount of thoughts that flicker across my mind while I am in the saddle. Some secure only a second or two of my time, while others may cause me to ponder for long stretches of road. Often I take a few moments to concentrate on my body, and try to see if it is telling me something that I am failing to hear. Is my shoulder getting tight or fatigued, which means I need to change hand positions? Are my thighs and hamstrings unusually tight? I especially pay attention to my calves. Often times my calves are the first to indicate if I’m about to start facing a serious problem. My calves are great indicators if I am getting close to dehydration, or if my sodium and potassium levels are becoming low. I can’t explain the feeling, but am thankful I am able to minimally understand the messages they send.

Other times I reflect on a number of inquiries; religion, politics, economics, Indian reservation law structures etc. I also dwell upon topics that all of us find ourselves thinking about at some point during the day; such as relationships with friends and family. All of these thoughts can cascade through my head in a matter of minutes. The oddest questions can also appear; what would it be like to be a cattle rancher? What would I have done had I tried crossing this land in a covered wagon 150 years ago and I blew an axle or my oxen perished? Why did the Sand Creek Massacre occur? (I saw a sign today directing to the site of the massacre.) As you can see, a number of random thoughts can spontaneously appear, and disappear, quickly.

Yet, there are times that cycling is almost meditative. I cease to think and experience only the joy of being alive and moving under my own power. I am sure that many athletes can attest to such a clear and clean sense of release that occurs during their sport of choice. I can’t entirely explain it, but I am thankful for it. So I guess there is no one clear cut answer to that question, for my solution to it changes every time I climb into the saddle.

Day 12 – June 28th

2008-06-28T22:32:00.002-05:00

Wow, it is hard to fathom the fact that this is the 12th day in the saddle. I don’t believe I can honestly afford to truly reflect upon what the last 11 days have all entailed or of what remains to be accomplished; if I did the daunting truth may overwhelm me. Therefore, each day is viewed as a new challenge and a new adventure. The former days are past, and the ones yet to come are just that, yet to come. All I can focus on is getting back in the saddle and completing today’s ride; one pedal stroke at a time. Everything else is just details.

Today the ride started in Dubois, Wyoming and would end approximately 35 miles east of Riverton, Wyoming. The original plan for today consisted of a 79 mile ride to Riverton, where we will be spending the evening; but since we had scheduled a 149 mile ride for the following day, we realized we couldn’t afford the luxury of doing only 79 miles. We ended today’s ride with just over 113 miles; which means we pedal approximately the same distance tomorrow as well. Not bad, all things considered.

The first 50 miles today went by quickly, but I was struggling in the saddle. Not from muscle fatigue, soreness, or overtaxed knees; but instead from sleep deprivation. I am not sure why, as I got a decent amount of sleep last night, but the first couple of hours all I could effectively do was yawn. Finally, when we stopped for a quick bite at mile 50 (while we ate we overlooked a manikin-still lake, which was surrounded by the arid plains of Wyoming and thousands of patches of earthen colored sagebrush, yellowish-green cacti, and of course the sandy like soil that dominates the landscape) I began to awaken. During the remaining 63 miles I was able to get my system jump started and was eventually content with my body’s performance.

At one point during the first portion of the ride, I was struck with the wildness that Wyoming possesses. A fox took time from it’s sly morning escapades to briefly grace us with its presence, as did multiple mule deer, an arrogant prairie dog that wasn’t about to surrender its hard earned shoulder of highway to two uninvited cyclists, and a pose-struck antelope. All of these creatures moved with the grace that only the wild can instill in them, and I feel lucky that my morning routine briefly encountered thiers. At another point during the ride I was reminded of the jade oceans of Belize. A small lake, situated a few hundred yards off the highway, sparkled a brilliant turquoise color in the early morning sunlight. I cannot even fathom what algae or mineral created the cacophony of brilliant blue it contained, but I drew in its beauty until it was no longer in sight. I am convinced now, more than ever, that beauty can be found anywhere and everywhere; as long you take the time to appreciate it. What a trip of the senses this bike ride is turning out to be. Thank you again Gary for letting me tag along.

We concluded the trip with the newest member of our team today; Bob Loch. Bob met Gary, Larry, and I out in the vastness that is Wyoming at our 113 mile mark for the day; the mark that signaled we were done spinning our legs for one more day. He took part in our traditional beverage and then we headed into town where Larry, our support guru up to this point, instructed Bob on some tricks of the support trade. Larry will be leaving us for 8 days beginning tomorrow; but I feel we are being handed from one master of cycling to another. Knowing Bob, Gary and I will remain in great hands.

Larry, thank you again for all your brilliant support, assistance, and encouragement these last 12 days; it has been the utmost appreciated. I am looking forward to seeing you again in just over a week; best of luck in south Texas.

Bob, I want to also thank you for taking the time out of your life to put up with two worn out cyclists as we continue in our quest for the tomb of Atlantis; the brilliant Atlantic Ocean. I know you will be a huge asset to have along over the course of the next week, and without the help of you and Larry this ride never would have happened. Thank you and welcome aboard!

Day 11 - June 27th

2008-06-27T23:02:00.003-05:00

The alarm went off at 5:45 and I was on the road and spinning by 7:10 am. I was quickly cooled by the 50 degree weather as I rolled out of Jackson Hole, Wyoming and headed toward Dubois, Wyoming; 88 miles away. When I awoke this morning, I was surprised to realize the temperature outside was a chilly 47 degrees. Since the goal today was to climb to over 9,600 feet elevation and cross the Continental Divide, I figured it would be a good day to throw on some winter gear. I was glad for that decision when I started out into the early morning air. Making my way out of town, I was once again enveloped by the scenery. Off to my left mountains jutted out of the ground with violent force, hurling themselves skyward with omniscient strength. They were a dark grey hue, jagged faced, and topped with snow that was constantly being blown off the peaks by violent gales. It was majestic to watch the snow swirl off the summits and hang suspended in time. At times the mountains looked so close that I thought I may be able to reach out and touch them. The sky was also abuzz with people; there were hot air balloons making their way over the spine of the world, and leer jets landing at the local airport; the wealthy arriving to play in God’s playground for the weekend. At one point I crossed over a mountain stream and discovered myself awash in blossoming flowers; the aroma was intoxicating and brought a broad, serene smile to my wind-burned face. It is moments like this that make this bike ride so worthwhile; some sights and smells you just can not experience from a car.

The first 40 miles of the ride were fairly easy, but the scenery is so picturesque that is simply beyond words. I beg of you to check out the photos that Larry snapped today, as they at least give a hint of the beauty this land possesses. At mile 40 of today’s ride we began a 17 mile ascent. The grade going up wasn’t too bad, I believe it may have hit 6 percent a couple of times, and the miles went by fairly quickly. Gary and I separated early in the climb and Mr. Hart once again delivered his Tour like support to both of us. It is such a treat to be able to do long climbs and not have to worry about being loaded down with food or fluids, as Larry is always close by to provide his fleet footed support. I don’t think he realizes how much it helps to not have to stop the bike to restock on supplies, thus letting our legs keep moving and stay fresh. I felt great in the saddle all the way up, the legs were solid, and I was really looking forward to reaching this particular summit. My only real worry during the climb was the possible adverse effects that the altitude may have upon me. Since oxygen becomes less prevalent in the air as you ascend, I was afraid that I may find myself short of breath and not able to recover. However, through the entire climb I never experienced any negative consequences that I can contribute to the altitude. My biggest disappointment on the climb was when I was a mile and a half from the top and there was construction underway. I asked the lady running the sign (stop/slow) if she would let me go through on my bike; she told me that was not going to be possible. Therefore, I was forced to load my bike up on the SUV and Larry then drove Gary and I through the construction zone, about a mile. He dropped us off to climb the last half mile to the Continental Divide. The Continental Divide is the highest point along our trip, we therefore stopped a few moments to take in the beauty of the area and to bask in what we had just done. We’d started our bike ride at sea level and now were standing at over 9,600 feet; we were actually standing on the Continental Divide! I can’t begin to describe the effect this had upon me, as it has not fully settled in, but I feel very grateful for the opportunity to do such a feat. It is one of those treasured moments in life, the kind I pray the future holds many more of for all of us. After the summit, we quickly descended the last 30 miles into Dubois, Wyoming where we will be spending the night before trekking onward tomorrow.

Physically I am holding up really well. My right knee did great today; but I’ve been having some slight pain in my left knee the last few days. I figure it’s because I’m using my left leg more to compensate for my weak right knee. Looks like I may have to pay the piper for that choice, though, as it was the left one today that was giving me problems throughout the entire ride. Ahh well, the price one must pay while on the road. I figure I will start the same treatment for it as I have for my right and hopefully in a week or two the pain will be absolved. Maybe one of these days they will both be healed, but until then I have but one choice; deal with it. Aside from the knees, the rest of my body seems to be taking the punishment quite well. I thought today I would be a little more sore than I was, considering the climbs I went through yesterday. I was pleasantly surprised to feel as fresh as I did throughout today’s ride. The human body is such an incredible machine, I am constantly amazed at what you can put it through and it still comes out with panache. It makes me wonder just how much it is truly capable of.

Day 10 – June 26th

2008-06-26T19:32:00.005-05:00

Getting an early start on today’s ride, we had the bikes up and running by 7 am. Cruising along at a comfortable 17 mph we both let ourselves catch a breather on the flats as we knew there was much more to come; specifically two big climbs. Today would take us to an elevation of 8,400 feet. The first 45 miles were easy and of very little consequence to our legs; but our eyes were having a field day. The rolling flat farmland that led up to the mountains was a gorgeous cornucopia of green. I am still overwhelmed by the massive power that these mountains seem to exude. Maybe they have such a profound effect upon me because I grew up on the rolling plains of the Midwest. Whatever the case, there is something about these bones of earth that awe me to my core. I believe this emotion will wrap me in its grip anytime that I take a moment to bask in their massive beauty.

At mile 45 the day started to get interesting; we started our first serious climb of the day. Having talked about the logistics and the fact that Gary and I have different cadences and climbing styles, we agreed that Hart would shuttle between riders on the climb providing the excellent support that seems to come so naturally to him. Early into the first climb I found my gear of choice, stuck to it, and started to battle my best friend and worst enemy; the Big Ass Hill (really that is its name.) In regards to my climbing preference, I had spoken with Larry about the fact that my legs do a lot better when I don’t stop on climbs, so we came up with a plan to refuel me while I was still on the bike. He would stop at certain points along the climb and I could hand off my water bottles as I emptied them and he would make sure to fill them with some sweet climbing nectar and return them to me at the next stop; all while I was still pedaling. Larry, who seems to have a latent talent for running along bikes and providing fuel, even went so far as to hand off V8’s, peanut butter sandwiches, and Gu; all while I continued to pedal. This technique worked out great for me, as it let me continue to spin and keep my rhythm going. When Larry was handing off water bottles while running beside my still moving bike, I felt like a real pro. All I was missing was strength, power, endurance, and talent.

As most cyclists can tell you, when you are into a long climb the best thing you can do is find a gear that feels good and stick with it. I’d found mine on that first climb and I put it to great use. By the time I reached the summit I felt like I was just starting out for the day, versus 65+ miles into the ride. After the first initial climb, which was ten miles long (give or take), I headed down a short descent, and then started the big climb for the day. The climb actually was not too bad in the beginning; it was a fairly low grade. However, as the miles began to pile up I realized that I was not doing nearly the amount of ascending I should be doing if this climb was going to top out at around mile 77. When I crossed the 71 mile mark I saw a big yellow sign that read “Steep Mountain Passes Ahead: 10% grade” “Ten percent grade? Holy friggin $#%&” was the first thought that rammed through my head. 10% grade is a serious climb when you are on the bike; it can chew you up and spit out what remains of your legs very quickly. The next 6 miles were going to be a treat, that’s for sure. The subsequent 4 miles or so were not as bad as I expected, there were some steep pitches but they mellowed out and I was able to keep a good pace going and still felt solid in the saddle. The last 2 miles were torture on the legs though; it was a constant 10-13 percent grade that made all the muscles in my weary body scream. My lungs and cardio held up fine during the final ascent, I think my heart rate may have hit 150 at one point, but for the most part it was in the low 140’s. But my speed; good god my speed was atrocious. The fastest I could get my mutinous machine to move was 6 mph, and at many points I was down to 4 mph. I just could not get my Trek to move any faster, even though I was often out of the saddles cranking on the pedals. I would love to say I looked as if I were dancing in the pedals as I made my way up those final miles, but you nor I would believe it.

My goal towards the end of the ascent was to beat Larry to the summit, since he was running back and forth between Gary and I, I thought I had a chance to do it. With about 150 yards to go, the SUV passed me and I had to settle for second place. Damn, I was so close! My consolation prize, which was a boost to my ego, was a lady at the summit stopped by the car to say she’d seen me working my way up the mountain and thought I looked really strong. She was obviously a genius, a profession cyclist coach, and very competent in the ways of biking. Hey its my story!

A little bit later, I hooked up with Gary and we ascended into Jackson, Wyoming. This means we have knocked out one more state; Idaho. That’s two states down and nearly 1,000 miles as well. ( I believe we have less than 5 miles to go to break the 4 figure milestone.) Now it is time to hit the hot tub to let our pain wracked legs relax before beating them up tomorrow as we struggle to ascend to over 9,000 feet elevation. That should be fun!

Day 09 – June 25th

2008-06-25T23:24:00.003-05:00

Keeping the rubber-side down, we headed out of Aberdeen, Idaho and made it a whopping 5 miles. I was having serious issues shifting, and my cyclometer wasn’t working. After getting the cyclometer operating, I attempted to tweak my cables and rear derailleur to improve the quality of my shifts. Apparently Brian has been rubbing off on me, as I managed to remedy it not in the least. I fought my gears the rest of the day; man would I be ecstatic (like a Christina getting a box of Peeps on Easter) when I got it into a bike shop. That was not to be our only maintenance issue of the day though; the support vehicle was also having problems. Around 38 miles in for the day, Larry took off to get the car looked at and Gary and I headed out solo. No worries, as Larry had provided us ample information to find our way to the hotel which was less than 30 miles away. After a quick lunch at Wendy’s (yeah I know, not the healthiest choice, but one can only eat so many turkey sandwiches before you need to mix it up a bit), the riders set out one direction and the support vehicle the other. Today was a planned ‘rest’ day; we were only doing 70 miles or so. We finished with about 67 miles logged; it’s a messed up situation, though, when a rest day is a metric century. We cruised into town around 1:00 pm and headed straight for a bike shop. An hour later both our bikes were tuned up, and they were shifting smooth as butter. I was pretty excited to have my performance machine back and listening to me again.

We then headed towards the hotel to drop off our bikes, take a shower, and catch a nap before Larry got there with the support car and supplies. Unfortunately, our plans didn’t plan out as quickly as we expected, something a lot more attractive caught our attention. Less than a block from the hotel we noticed a beautiful sign stating “Brewery”. I believe this was God’s way of saying 'take it easy for a while and enjoy a beer or two'. So I took the Big Guy’s advice and pulled in for some food and micro-brews; the summer-fest was heavenly.

It was quite nice getting into town early, and being able to get a rest in after a soul satisfying meal; I think we should try and make a pattern of this behavior. But alas, it will not last. Tomorrow we have a couple big climbs in store for us; we will be doing over 5,000 feet of climbing. The day after that is another day of climbing in which we will ascend 3,000 feet in about 17 miles. The summit for that day is 9,570 feet; this will be the highest elevation we battle our way up to on our sojourn for the East Coast. My knee didn’t do as well today as yesterday, but I think it’s just a minor setback. What it needs to be fully healed is probably a six pack of Shiner, a beach, and a novel. Yes that sounds just about right...

Day 08 – June 24th

2008-06-24T22:59:00.003-05:00

Rolling out of Twin Falls, Idaho after a quick breakfast, I found the wind at my back and a mild June day just beginning; it looked like today was going to be a great day to crank. Gary and I were planning on knocking off another 100 miles on this beautiful June day in our quest for the blue waters of the Atlantic. The first few miles fell by the wayside in no time, but at mile 8 Gary blew a tire. We quickly realized the tire had a nasty gash in it and would need to be replaced (usually you just replace the tube and can quickly get back to riding.) Larry, always close by, stopped the support vehicle to drop off a new tire and tube and a few minutes later we were back on the road and rolling. At mile 9 we hopped onto Interstate 84 and started pounding out some serious miles. With a steady breeze encouraging us, we held a pace between 22 and 25 mph; things were going great. We remained on the interstate for the majority of the day; until mile 86 in fact. The interstate treated us well, only a 10 or 20 mile portion of it was rough pavement that sent vibrations pulsating down our arms and into our shoulders; luckily the rest of the ride was smooth and great for cycling. The miles were falling off quickly until around mile 50. I was crossing over the oncoming ramp lane, no traffic in sight (always a good sign) when my front tire was sucked into some loose gravel. This cycle-hungry gravel pitched my bike to the left and I soon found myself fighting for control of the bike as I was jarred over a series of deep grooves in the road. Being shaken like a baby (I know I know, that’s not politically correct) my rear light slid into my spinning wheel and the light disintegrated into a million tiny red pieces; my spokes were pretty pissed off about the entire assault. After stopping the bike to check the damage, I realized my wheel was no longer true (meaning it didn’t spin in a tight circle, but instead wobbled.) This required me to open up the entire rear brake; effectively eliminating its use. I was down to just my front brake, but all things considered, it could have gone a lot worse; if the light hadn’t shattered but instead locked up my wheel I would have gone head over heels over my handlebars; that’d have made for a fun day! I road on with my wheel wobbling for about 15 miles before stopping at our bike shop on wheels and switching out the entire rim and cassette for the spare that Gary had brought along (thank goodness for that foresight!) 2 miles down the road I picked up a screw and destroyed the tire and the tube on the new wheel I had just put on; great! Soon we were finally off again and the rest of the way was pretty uneventful. We ended up with 104 miles and averaged 20.6 mph; we are both pretty proud of that average considering the 800+ miles we’ve put in over the last 8 days. We finished our ride in Aberdeen, Idaho this afternoon and drove to Blackfoot, Idaho where our hotel is located. We will be driving back to Aberdeen to begin tomorrows ride.

I realized something ironic today in regards to my riding. Before this adventure began, I had only completed 3 rides in excess of a hundred miles. I had done the HHH( a century ride in Texas), Reach the Beach (a century ride in Oregon), and a 12 hour time trial with Martin a few weeks ago (it was held in Washington State and we completed about 180 miles that day). These are the only three rides of 100+ miles I had ever done prior to this ride; Gary has dozens and dozens that he’s completed. I think it’s a good thing I didn’t point this out to him prior to the trip, as he probably wouldn’t have asked me to accompany him if he’d known. Oh well, no time like the present to rack up some centuries. Tomorrow should be another fairly flat day, and then we will have some long climbs to ride our way into Wyoming; should be a good time. It’s a sick world where climbing up mountain passes is fun. The knee held up really well today; it didn’t really get painful until about mile 70. Definitely a vast improvement over what it has been.

Day 7 – June 23rd

2008-06-23T20:39:00.003-05:00

We started the ride today outside of Mountain Home, Idaho. Within a couple of miles we hit an ascent that we weren’t expecting; it hadn’t shown up on our maps. With the legs still a bit tight from the last few days of riding, this was not the way I was hoping to start the day. However, after a few minutes of finding my cadence and a good tempo it was a breeze getting to the top; the descent afterwards was a nice reward. On the way down I noticed that Larry Hart, our support guru, was in the other lane of the highway taking pictures of the surrounding bluffs. With his picture taking completed he began making his way back across the highway. Since I was in a descent doing in excess of 28 miles per hour I had a brief flash of ramming into him; which would not have been good for either of us. It never got that close, as Larry was well out of the way by the time we got to him, but still it inspired a moment of humor. Not fear…but humor. You see while I was descending, and Larry was moving across the road, I looked over to Gary, who was riding beside me, and told him he better be careful or he was going to have a Hart (heart) attack. Ok so maybe it’s not nearly as funny now as it was at the time; but we both got a good laugh out of it for the next 10 minutes. I think our minds are starting to lose the blunt edge they had; we find ourselves saying and doing some pretty dumb stuff. I guess after a week in the saddle your mind starts to deteriorate along with your body. Oh well, it gives us something to talk and laugh about. Case in point: I am having an issue with my seat stay, and I was able to secure an extra bolt from a bike shop. The bolt won’t last, however, as it’s already slightly stripped. I was happy to get it though, as now I could pass it onto Larry and when he is in the next town with a bike shop, he can try to secure a new one for me. Gary at dinner the other night asked “Matt, have you given Larry your screw yet? “ I am sure you all can see where this is going. I looked at Gary, dead serious without a hint of a smirk on my face and told him “Gary, that’s a rather personal question.” We laughed for much longer than we should have at it. Like I said, our minds are becoming more akin to blunt spoons than sharp knives. Cest la vi…a utensil is still a utensil. Hehe.

Back to the ride; we ended up putting in 98.5 miles this afternoon. There were no serious climbs along the route; though we did do some gradual ascending and hit a few small, but stiff, climbs. All in all we ended the day with about 3,000 feet of climbing. We rolled into Twin Falls, Idaho at 3:30 pm; which is great as it’s the earliest we have been off the bike all week. We were able to get some food earlier than usually, which left us time to start planning our strategy for going forward. The consensus is in and we need to build in a couple days to help spread out our overly aggressive ride, such as trying to do a 150 miler followed with a 160 miler. Right now it looks like we will be adding in two more days to help allocate some of those miles and give us a chance to really enjoy the ride and keep our bodies and sanity in tact; relatively speaking of course. My knee seems to be healing; the pain didn’t get worse today. Yesterday there was about 30 miles where the pain was pretty intense; I have been getting a burst of pain on each down-stroke with my right knee. If you didn’t know, there are a hell of a lot of down-strokes over a hundred miles of pedaling! But today during the majority of the ride the pain bursts were not quite as intense; I had it compressed wrapped, so that may have helped. With the way today went, I think it may be healed within the next week or so. At least that’s what I keep telling myself. As far as the scenery for today, the highlight was seeing ‘The Place of a 1,000 Falls.’ The bluff face literally had 1,000 waterfalls along its edge (at least that’s what it said, Gary tried counting them but I think he lost count at 3). There was one waterfall that really stands out in my mind. It was one of the larger waterfalls; white water rapidly spilling over the brown stone bluff and that split into two long and distinct tendrils of churning water. In the middle of those parting waters stood an elderly massive tree; it looked like something you would see in a movie; the tree standing proud over its waters was so serene, powerful and majestic. I think it’s a picture that will be forever burned into my mind; I pray it is. What a gorgeous country we live in.

Day 6 – June 22nd

2008-06-22T20:38:00.004-05:00

Today we started the ride in Ontario, Oregon and within a couple of miles we had left Oregon behind and were now propelling ourselves over the surface of Idaho. One state down, and less than a dozen to go. The first 60 miles of today’s ride were fairly uneventful and the legs felt good; not too deep yet, but still fairly fresh considering the 500 miles we’ve put in already. The knee is still giving me problems, though, but I believe my wife has diagnosed it. It appears I have tendinitis of the quad tendon. It hurts, but its still good news; it means I probably haven’t messed my knee up too bad. Over the next couple weeks I will continue to ice it, elevate it, take ibuprofen to help with the inflammation, and start using a compression wrap while riding to assist the knee in staying in place. I am hopeful that in a couple of weeks I will have this behind me and can get back to riding pain free; well as pain free as any century ride can be.

On the ride today there were not any climbs that were overly difficult. We did go into a gradual climb around mile 63 and were out of it by mile 80. The legs felt fine during the ascent, and my heart rate remained in the 130’s, which tells me in wasn’t very hard on my body; always a great sign. In fact, only a couple of sections of the gradual ascent had any real substance to them. After reaching the summit, Larry went ahead of us to get the hotel room ready and Gary and I set out to do the next 40 miles without support. It wasn’t too long after that the heat started to take its toll on me; around mile 83 I started to realize I was getting too hot; the temp had soared to 94 degrees and was draining me fast. After living in Portland for nearly a year, my body is definitely not used to the heat. But once I got some more fluids and food in me, I was back on form within a couple of miles. The next 30 miles went fairly quickly, as it was a flat course with some minor descents and only a couple bumps to climb over. Overall the ride went well, and I was quite pleased to be off the bike before 6 pm. I was hoping to be done earlier, but unfortunately we crossed into mountain time, and thus lost an hour this morning. Ahh well, it was still a good day in the saddle. In regards to the topography of the course today, I spent the majority of the day following the Snake River through the high deserts of Idaho. I can’t say I’ll be overly disappointed to leave these arid plains behind me; though I realize the Midwest is going to be just as hot. But at least there should be some green; out here the only green was immediately adjacent to the Snake River. Everything else is a dull, lifeless brown. Don’t get me wrong, it still has its own unique beauty to it. But when you are hot and fighting yourself to keep pedaling, the last thing you want to see is an arid landscape; it does not inspire like a lush green backdrop. In regards to miles ridden, I have knocked off over 600 of the 3,600 miles this trip requires. I am looking forward to completing the remaining 3,000!

Day 5 – June 21st

2008-06-21T20:49:00.005-05:00

The day started out with a nice descent before trekking back up the mountain. We biked through rolling mountains and were graced with scenic views of the lush pastures, rolling ridges, and mountain streams and lakes. The scenery was as beautiful as anything we had witnessed on ride.

We made our way into Baker City, Oregon which required us to accumulate 44 miles to get there. During the journey to get there, my knee started giving me problems and Gary pulled me which allowed me some time to rest it. The knee didn’t get better, but thankfully it doesn’t seem to be getting much worse. Hopefully it can hold up for another few weeks.

While in Baker City I attempted to get a new seat stay for my bike, as mine had been stripped when lowering the saddle. Unfortunately, after 20 minutes of searching his inventory, the local bike smith was unable to find a new screw or seat stay to fit my bike. Ahh well, hopefully in the next couple of days we can find a city that is a bit larger and has a facility equipped with the equipment I am looking for. Time will tell on that one.

Outside of Baker City we fought a soul penetrating heat, upwards of 90+ degrees, and a nasty headwind for the first 24 miles. Not far behind us, during the ride, was a mountain storm brewing in all its fury. During a portion of our ride we were forced onto interstate 84 as the highway we had been riding on turned into a gravel road. By the time we got onto the interstate the storm was on us and neither Gary nor myself were looking forward to dealing with traffic, which would be doing 75 miles per hour, as well as the nasty storm. We sat the storm out for a bit when we encountered road construction in which there was no shoulder for us to bike upon. While Larry shuttled Gary over the mile of construction, I sought shelter in the rest area. That storm cell was short lived, and by the time Larry came back to pick me up and shuttle me up to Gary, it had blown over. Thankfully, I was able to get cell coverage at the time and place a call to Brian who confirmed the small size of the cell via the web. You have got to love cell phones and the Internet.

We had only one more set back while traveling along the interstate; there was more road construction 5 miles down the road in which we again had to be shuttled across. After that, though, we were able to get back on highway 30 and head for our destination point: Ontario, Oregon.

The last 27 miles into the city were exciting and a bit demanding. The exciting part was the fact that a new storm was accumulating and had caused the wind to shift. Instead of fighting the headwind, it was about to push us. We sailed for quite a few miles with exhilarating speeds while our long time nemesis, Mr. Wind, push us; it was a nice change. As we approached town, about 15 miles out, we realized that the storm was on growing large and nearly on top of us. We both realized we were probably not going to make it without getting wet. After a quick pit stop at Shop De La Larry, in which we grabbed some quick fluids and fuel, Gary and I took off for our stop over town. With the wind pushing us a portion of the time, I took the lead and we both picked up the tempo. For portions of the ride into town we were sailing at 32 miles an hour. It was great, and the legs felt pretty good during it. We finally made it into town, after crossing over to Idaho for a few miles before re-crossing the Snake River to end once again in Oregon.

After riding 122 miles, seeing the Best Western sign, as the storm began to prepare for an all out assault, may have been the best sight of the day. We were all glad to be in doors and dry. The bud light was cold and our spirits were high. Another great day on the road. I am hoping that the ice packs Larry picked up will do my knee some good, and that tomorrow’s ride will be pain free.

Day 4 – June 20th

2008-06-20T20:48:00.005-05:00

The day started out with a 5 to 6 mile climb right from the get go. Gary is getting better at using his heart monitor and altering his speed and cadence up the climbs in accordance with it. As Brian (my brother and fellow biker) can attest to, the heart rate monitor can be your best friend during a ride or run. It is an unbelievable tool when it comes to telling you what kind of damage you are doing to your body. I never ride or run without mine attached; it’s too powerful of a tool to not have on.

After our 1,500 foot climb up to an elevation of 4,200 feet, we leveled out and got into a pretty good rhythm. The only pain I was experiencing up to that point was my right knee. That being the only pain, however, was about to change; and not for the good. At mile 11 I had the great luck to match blows with a hornet. Let’s just say the bout ended with the Hornet = 1 and Matt = 0. Damn little bastard; it’s been years since I was last stung, and I hope it’s a lot longer before I have to experience it again.

Over the next several miles we encountered numerous cyclists on the road. This was the same group of 50 riders going across the country with the organization America By Bike (ABB). We also encountered numerous smaller groups that were doing self supported rides across the country. One of the groups we talked to, after our first climb of the day, said that the baggage on each of their bikes weighed between 40 and 80 pounds. Unbelievable! I can tell you that on some of those climbs my 17 pound Trek feels like it weighs in excess of a ton; I can’t imagine strapping on 40 or 50 more pounds and trying to get it to the summit. Amazing!

We had started the ride 60 miles outside of our hotel, and had to pack the SUV in the morning and then drive to our starting point (where we had ended the night before), unpack the car, get the bikes ready, get ourselves ready, and then start pedaling. This equates to later than normal start times. We paid the price today, as the temperature rose to 92 degrees, and we spent a long time in its strength sapping rays. Our goal for tomorrow, and most of the days to come, will be to get on the crank earlier.

Safety on this ride, so far, has been great. Some of the cyclists we have talked to have not been as fortunate. One man, doing an unsupported 7,000 mile ride from Washington State to Florida, was hit by a car earlier in his ride and had to get a new bike. He had been riding a hand-built Italian carbon frame, but had to settle for a Co-Motion frame after the accident. He was not hurt, but I am sure he is sorely disappointed to lose his bike. Another cyclist told us of one of the ABB riders that was struck in the chest with a beer bottle that had been thrown by a dumbass driver. The cops were looking for the vehicle, but so far their search has been fruitless.

Another ABB rider I spoke with had a different sort of luck with his bike prior to his ride. He is a sports psychologist, and retired Pro basketball player (over seas) that had met the president of Trek a few years back. Somehow word got out that he was doing this ride, using his aluminum Trek 1200. Trek’s president, after finding out about it, sent Tom a brand new 2008 Madone (full carbon) for him to have for the ride and to keep afterwards. What a present!! (The cyclists reading this will all realize how lucky he is.)

Getting into Mt. Vernon proved impossible for us today, as the city’s crew was laying fresh rock and oil on the only road going into the town; they would not allow bikes on it for any reason. We were forced to pack the bikes into the SUV and Larry then drove us into town where Gary and I then began to ride again.

At around the 83 mile mark we went into a 7 mile climb. Gary, watching his heart rate and responding accordingly, set out at his own pace as did I. We both have very similar cadence (his is slightly faster than mine on the flats, and mine is slightly faster during climbs) so we broke up to climb and then regrouped at the top. I felt great during the climb, and Gary seemed to be fairing well also.

At 101 miles in we went into our final 4 mile climb of the day. Again at the end we were both overjoyed to see Larry and the white SUV. But this was not the high point of the day.

Along the route today my gorgeous bride gave me some great news as well. The angioplasty with my dad went very well, there does not appear to be any problems with his heart, and he will be back home in Texas this Monday. We are all greatly relieved at the wished for news. All I ask is dad not do that again!

Day 3 – June 19th

2008-06-19T20:47:00.004-05:00

Trying to put the news from the day before out of my mind, I attempted to just focus on the day of riding ahead of me. The ride for the day began outside of Government Camp, and we had plotted 112 miles and 4,800 feet of climbing. It was going to be a long day!

We began with a nice flat section that led us into a great descent. Gary and I really got in sync on the flat section, and took turns pulling every mile to mile and a half. Around mile 23 we began a 5 mile climb out of the valley. It was a gradual climb and through it both Gary and I felt really good. I was starting to find my climbing form again, and after finding a good cadence and rhythm I was able to spin up at a steady pace. The whole time I was able to keep my heart rate in check, and made sure I didn’t push into the zone where I’d start building up lactic acid; I tend to try and keep my heart rate below 163 over a long climb. If I go much higher I am prone to burn my legs for the next day; something I can’t afford to do on this type of trip.

After the climb, and a pit stop to fuel up on turkey sandwiches courtesy of Mr. Hart, we battled the heat and a headwind into Madras, Oregon which is where we would be spending the night. However, as we were only a few hours into the ride for the day, we pushed on to get in some more riding. Over the next 20 miles we fought a headwind, 80 degree heat and some stiff little climbs. On this leg of the ride today, we ran into a couple of riders that are doing a ride across America as well. They are riding with the outfit America By Bike (ABB); this company’s website is where we garnished a lot of our information when putting our bike plan together. It was great to meet them, and I wish them all the best of luck on the ride.

After the initial 20 miles out of Madras, we refueled again with Larry and then descending into Prineville, Oregon. (This is the city that the ABB bikers would be spending the night in.) Outside of Prineville we started out longest climb of the day; we ascended up to an elevation of 4,700 feet. My legs felt strong during the climb, as much of it was only 1-2% grade. A few of the steeper sections went into pitches of 6-7% and were thus a bit more challenging; I cut my pace on a few of these to assist Gary as he was still working on getting used to long climbs. We finally reached the summit of the climb around mile 96 and then descended 16 miles with only the slightest incline the last few miles.

At our stop, holding with a tradition we had begun the day before, Larry had a couple ice cold beers waiting for us. Those barley pops tasted exquisite after 112 miles of riding through mountain passes and skin burning heat. Thanks for the beers Larry, they were greatly appreciated!

Day 2 – June 18th

2008-06-18T20:46:00.005-05:00

The ride today started in downtown Portland and would proceed out of the city and onto Mount Hood. Starting out, the legs were tight for both Gary and I, probably due to the fact that we pushed it a bit on the ride the day before. With that thought in mind, we leisurely spun out of Portland and into Gresham, Oregon. We rode fairly conservatively until we got to the base of Mt. Hood and then started getting into some real climbing. The climbs went very well in the beginning, and Gary hung quite well. I pulled through most of the climbs and was feeling really good; all those long hours of chasing Dave and Martin up the many hills surrounding Portland were paying off. I don’t think I can thank those guys enough for taking the time, and having the patience, to teach a novice climber how to get up the side of the mountain. Maybe after this ride I’ll finally be able to hang with you guys. Though chasing Martin on the flats and Dave on the climbs will probably remain an effort in futility. I can dream though!

The final big climb up to Government Camp played with our emotions on this day; we erroneously thought the climb topped out at 2,700 feet. However, we realized much to our chagrin that the summit topped out at about 4,000 feet. That is a long ways to climb when you keep telling yourself you are just about to be done and the pain will go away; at least the pain will reside for a little while. When we did finally top the climb, Gary and I were both relieved to see Larry sitting there in the white SUV, a smile played across his face, and a cooler full of food and drinks. I think Gary cried at that point. I’m not sure though, as I couldn’t see him through the tears.

Larry is doing an unbelievable job of support. He has made this ride feel almost like cheating. He not only scouts the route, blocks for us on sketchy patches of road, has food and drinks always stocked and cold, but is also taking pictures of the vast scenery for us. What a guy! Every time we see a rider on the road, struggling up a hill or with the heat, we comment they need some Hart. Sure am glad we got ours.

The only real issue that I encountered during the course of the day was a slight knee pain at about mile 60 that didn’t go away until I was off the bike at mile 80. I am not sure what the pain is being caused by, as I have never had knee problems. However, I am hoping Christina can help diagnose and remedy when I talk to her tonight. I am counting on it, as I still have a few miles left to finish during the next month!

On the way down off the mountain and back towards Portland I received a call that brought back some old memories. Wendy, my older sister (she’s the only older sister I have, as Megan, my other sister, is much younger. For those of you who do not know Megan, she’s my twin and I beat her into this world by a grand total of 8 minutes. An eternity if you ask me.) Anyways, Wendy’s message said that I needed to call mom ASAP. As I was soon to discover, my dad had gone in for a scheduled stress test and after having chest pain, they found a spot on his heart. The doctor conducting the test is not sure what it is, so they are going to try and find out by going into his heart on Friday, via a procedure known as an Angioplasty. (I can’t spell, and for those of you interested in how the word is spelled and what it all means, please call Christina.) The last time dad had chest pain, he ended up going in for quadruple bypass heart surgery. To say the news scared me is an understatement. We all are praying for the best, but weighed down with worry. Hopefully this turns out to be nothing and the old man is on his way home soon.

Day 1 – June 17th

2008-06-17T20:44:00.005-05:00

Months of planning and training took fruition today. Gary and I began our trek to cross the US on two wheels. Astoria, Oregon was our initiating point on this 3,500 sojourn. We spent last night in my apartment and then made the drive to Astoria at around 6 a.m. On the drive to Astoria, a myriad of thoughts flashed through my mind: “Will my legs hold up for 30 days? What about my knees, shoulders, neck, back etc?” The most numerous thought was probably “What the hell have I gotten myself into?” My answer to that remained the same: ‘Time will tell.’

Upon assembling our bikes at the Cannery Hotel, we set out to complete this challenge one mile at a time. The first 50 miles went extremely well. Abounding with the euphoria of starting out, we may have been overly aggressive on the rolling hills and mild climbs of the day. Gary, used to the plains of the Midwest, was a bit surprised with the couple of the climbs we encountered. At mile 50 we got into the flat portion of the ride and Gary’s training definitely came into play. I, however, began to struggle. I am not sure if I taxed myself too much in the beginning, or if not riding for two weeks and fighting a viral infection was the culprit; my guess is a combination of them all. Around mile 70 the legs began to recover and I felt pretty good until we finished the 100 mile ride.

I believe it also helped that at the 52 mile mark we picked up an extra rider who was strong and did a lot of the pulling for Gary and I. Bud Morris, the man who helped pull us into Portland, is a friend of a friend, and had asked Gary if he could ride with us the first day. Bud is an experience rider, a multi state time trial champion, and was a treat to have along at the end of the ride today. He knew Portland infinitely better than myself and stayed with us to assist in getting us over the interstate and the river so that we would have a better place to start on Day 2. Thanks Bud for the navigation, the great offer to do some Oregon rides when I get back to town (which I will be taking you up on), and of course for pulling us in.

Day 0 – How it all began.

2008-06-16T19:35:00.006-05:00

Early last year my beautiful and brilliant wife (her one flaw is she married me) suggested I look into attending law school as I was so fascinated with it. Law was something I was quite interested in, so I took the suggestion to heart and began the process of preparing to attend school beginning fall 2008. Gary Friedman, a friend, former-boss, and mentor, heard of my plans to attend school and that I was going to be quitting my job during the summer of 2008. He had been looking into doing a bike ride across America during that time frame and, as my schedule would coincide, he ever so graciously asked if I would be interested in riding it with him.

Gary and I had done a lot of riding together while I lived in Texas, and we had done RAGBRAI (a bike ride across Iowa) together as well. In addition, Gary and I had spent a lot of time together over the last 5 years (riding, shooting hoops, working occasionally, and magically making Shiner disappear) but since my move to Portland I had not really been able to spend much time with him. Thus the chance to do the ride and hang out with him for a few weeks was very appealing.

As many of you know, riding cross country is something most cyclists dream about. It’s a sick fascination that just goes with the sport. Therefore, with the full support of Christina, my self sacrificing wife, I accepted the invite. And that is how this ride began for me. Now all I had to do was train and then ride across 3,500 miles of American soil. No problem…..

My training consisted mostly of riding the roads of Oregon on a gift from Christina; a 2006 Trek Madone 5.2. According to her, it was the new love of my life. And I must say, she is quite beautiful. Not as beautiful as you Christina, but still damn pretty.

Training in Oregon was something I was neither ready for nor could have hoped for. The hills out here are quite different from the riding I was used to in Texas, and the scenery is breath taking. I could describe the views as a continuous series of Kodak moments, but it wouldn’t do it justice. Climbing up a couple thousand feet to see lush greenery spread out on your left, with a stream winding through it, and snow covered peaks silhouetted in the distance on the right is something I pray everyone gets to behold at some point in their life. Words fail miserably here so I’ll cease in making the attempt; we’ll just leave it at awe inspiring.

The climbing out here is something that I found myself hating and loving at various points (loving after I’d climbed it, hating it during.) However, though my overall mileage was low compared to many riders, the climbing I did do got my cardio and legs into fairly good shape. After a few months of riding with Martin and Dave (two buddies I met in Oregon who introduced me to the pains of Bald Peak and numerous other climbs) I found myself starting to really enjoy climbing and riding in Oregon back country. It’s hard not to fall in love with a sport in an area where you can go for a ride and in a matter of minutes be outside the city, surrounded by lush vegetation, mountains, a population that respects bikers on the road, and get a great cardio workout in a matter of minutes. I sure will miss this place come August.

Before I knew it, June is now here and the ride is about to begin. Gary is driving out to Portland with the man who will be our support driver on this crazy adventure; the infamous Larry Hart. Larry is a cyclist himself, has an eye for detail, and the ability to fix almost anything. To have him for a support driver is going to be amazing. Larry will be supporting us for the first couple of weeks after which he will be handing off the reigns to a long time friend of Gary’s, Bob Loch. Larry will then taking the reigns back for our final week of riding. Bob Loch is also an avid cyclist who has traveled to Texas on numerous occasions to ride the Hotter than Hell Hundred with us. (HHH is a century ride out of Wichita Falls, TX during August when the temperature outside is, well, hotter than hell.) To have two guys like Larry and Bob doing support during the ride, both who are avid bikers and understand what a long ride entails and the destruction it can do to your body, bike, and motivation, is a rare gift. This ride would definitely not be possible without them.

Well, I had better sign off as Larry and Gary are set to arrive tomorrow. I hope all is well with everyone.