Day 27 – July 13th

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

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

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…