6/1 People say that running is 90% mental and 10% physical (or something like that). I'm not sure if people say the same thing about cycling, but I know that, personally, the mental barriers in any activity far outweigh the physical (I quit running because it caused me too much anxiety). Yesterday was one of those mentally challenging days. A lot of the 97-mile route between Rochester and Syracuse is on a gravel bike path, which is hard not only on your mind, but also on your body. The path ends about halfway through and starts up again later, but we decided to opt for the road a little earlier to save our minds and bodies some grief.
For about a week, we've been blessed with tailwinds. As much as I love the speed and distance you can accomplish with such winds, a part of me doesn't like it because I know it's not sustainable; we will not always have the benefit of traveling at 15 MPH with barely any effort. Yesterday was a day where, if you were standing still, you would barely notice a breeze. But if you were on a bike headed in the wrong direction, you could feel an invisible force working against every bit of effort you put forth. Somewhere near the Pennsylvania/New York border we hit hills, a feature that has stayed with us and will grow larger into mountains as we head further east. Luckily we had mostly downhills yesterday, but because of the wind, we had to keep pedaling in order to maintain a decent pace.
When the trail started up again, we headed back with mixed emotions: the trail meant flat terrain that is protected from the headwinds, but a mile on a trail feels infinitely longer than a mile on the road. But we made it, and we made it through the hills of Syracuse too. We're taking a much needed day off at our sister's, sleeping in and eating lots.
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Monday, June 3, 2013
6/1 Yesterday Claire and I left Gibsonburg, OH with the winds at our backs. We picked up a bike trail for a short time in Fremont and met an elderly man named Dale along the way. He rode with us for awhile and bought us coffees in Clyde. Dale completed a cross country tour a few years ago and makes it a point to talk to any cycling tourists he sees along the path. After we parted ways, Claire and I continued on to Huron, a town on the shore of Lake Erie. Lake Erie has been our constant companion since, teasing us with its cool waters in this humid weather.
We had planned on making a campground outside Avon Lake, a suburb 20 miles east of Cleveland our stopping point for the evening. Despite some time at a bike shop in Bowling Green, Claire's freewheel continued to make a clunking noise, so we stopped at the bike shop in town before going to the campground. We had the wrong address, so after about 1.5 miles of distance in the wrong direction, we turned around and faced not only the strong winds, but also the front that had been chasing us all day. We rode in pouring rain and hail, but it was all worth it as Claire got every little thing she needed fixed done for free. If you ever find yourself in Avon Lake, OH, be sure to stop by Marty's - they're good people.
While at the bike shop, a woman stopped in to pick up her bike and told us she wished we would ride the final 20 miles to the hostel in Cleveland - the area around it was a former warehouse district that had recently been repurposed into restaurants and bars. Even though we had already ridden about 80 miles, we decided to go for it. The winds were still in our favor and the sun was shining.
The road we took into the city reminded both of us of Lake Drive in Milwaukee - there were times I could have sworn we were in Fox Point. As we stopped to check directions, Claire told me to look behind us - a wall of black clouds was close by. As we made a turn to ride through the majestic mansions of the nearby suburbs, any remaining light disappeared from the sky and rain fell in sheets.
The rain carried us into the city, where the mansions disappeared and were replaced by rundown apartment buildings and boarded up businesses. Like most Rust Belt cities, Cleveland has seen an increase in unemployment and a decrease in population in recent years. It has, however, been taking creative measures to revitalize certain areas, and if I had read any of the articles about it in my American Planning Association magazine, I might know some specifics, but some of the efforts seemed apparent as new, vibrant restaurants and retail were mixed in with the vacant businesses, something that I wish would happen more in Milwaukee, but I think we still have the larger segregation issue to deal with first.
We ended the day at 103 miles - the most either of us has ridden in one day (with the exception of the Riverwest 24). Our hostel was lovely, and was surrounded by many restaurants with good beer selections. We each ate a whole pizza and had a few beers. Our hostel had a rooftop deck, so we headed out there before going to sleep and were greeted with fireworks over downtown. It was a wonderful day.
Even though I really enjoyed the city, I did not enjoy getting out of it today. When Milwaukee's freeways were first planned, one was slated for what is, and was, Lincoln Memorial Dr. Luckily Mayor Meier (I believe) nixed that idea and we now have a beautiful lakefront with parks, beaches, and museums. Cleveland did not go the same route. Our first road paralleled the freeway, with the lake on our left. A few parks gave people access to the water, but there were no beaches and no seemingly easy way to get to them. Soon we turned away from the freeway and were in a suburb, where our road was smooth and lined with stately mansions. Cleveland dips back to the north between suburbs, and its reappearance was made obvious by the absence of tree-lined streets and the increase in potholes (I was trying to determine whether Milwaukee or Cleveland had worse streets; in our particular stretches of road, I'd say Cleveland took the cake). We continued on through this last bit of Cleveland and passed through several more suburbs to the east, though none boasted the huge homes like those closest to the city.
Although the majority of my daily riding is on city streets, on trips like these, urban riding makes me feel stagnant. I much prefer stretches of rural roads connecting tiny towns to the constant sea of concrete and development close to cities, with the separation of towns only made obvious by the change in pavement and a population side along the road. Today felt long, and even when we had left the more populated area surrounding Cleveland, we still had nearly constant homes by our sides. I'll probably have to get used to it, though, as our next few days will bring us through cities like Erie, PA, Buffalo, Rochester, and Syracuse. I always feel anxious near cities when on tour, like my legs need the freedom afforded by roads with few vehicles and stop signs, my eyes need the peaceful view of prairies and farmlands, and my mind yearns to wander the way it can when not concentrating on dodging potholes and cars.
6/2 Today we crossed the border from Ohio to Pennsylvania and then from Pennsylvania to New York. As we neared the New York border, I waved at a cyclist heading in the opposite direction. It occurred to me that he had probably been in New York just a few minutes ago. State lines have always seemed like magical places to me. As a child, I thought about how great it would be to live on the Wisconsin side of the Mississippi. I imagined hopping in a canoe any given summer day and making the journey across the river to the mysterious state I had never visited. But Minnesota isn't much different from Wisconsin, and I doubt a 10 year old paddling solo in a canoe would fare well amongst the barges on the Mississippi. Still, state borders are a way for us to create order and identity in the vast land that is our country, and they help me to cross off geographical accomplishments as we ride: five states down, four to go.
We had planned on making a campground outside Avon Lake, a suburb 20 miles east of Cleveland our stopping point for the evening. Despite some time at a bike shop in Bowling Green, Claire's freewheel continued to make a clunking noise, so we stopped at the bike shop in town before going to the campground. We had the wrong address, so after about 1.5 miles of distance in the wrong direction, we turned around and faced not only the strong winds, but also the front that had been chasing us all day. We rode in pouring rain and hail, but it was all worth it as Claire got every little thing she needed fixed done for free. If you ever find yourself in Avon Lake, OH, be sure to stop by Marty's - they're good people.
While at the bike shop, a woman stopped in to pick up her bike and told us she wished we would ride the final 20 miles to the hostel in Cleveland - the area around it was a former warehouse district that had recently been repurposed into restaurants and bars. Even though we had already ridden about 80 miles, we decided to go for it. The winds were still in our favor and the sun was shining.
The road we took into the city reminded both of us of Lake Drive in Milwaukee - there were times I could have sworn we were in Fox Point. As we stopped to check directions, Claire told me to look behind us - a wall of black clouds was close by. As we made a turn to ride through the majestic mansions of the nearby suburbs, any remaining light disappeared from the sky and rain fell in sheets.
The rain carried us into the city, where the mansions disappeared and were replaced by rundown apartment buildings and boarded up businesses. Like most Rust Belt cities, Cleveland has seen an increase in unemployment and a decrease in population in recent years. It has, however, been taking creative measures to revitalize certain areas, and if I had read any of the articles about it in my American Planning Association magazine, I might know some specifics, but some of the efforts seemed apparent as new, vibrant restaurants and retail were mixed in with the vacant businesses, something that I wish would happen more in Milwaukee, but I think we still have the larger segregation issue to deal with first.
We ended the day at 103 miles - the most either of us has ridden in one day (with the exception of the Riverwest 24). Our hostel was lovely, and was surrounded by many restaurants with good beer selections. We each ate a whole pizza and had a few beers. Our hostel had a rooftop deck, so we headed out there before going to sleep and were greeted with fireworks over downtown. It was a wonderful day.
Even though I really enjoyed the city, I did not enjoy getting out of it today. When Milwaukee's freeways were first planned, one was slated for what is, and was, Lincoln Memorial Dr. Luckily Mayor Meier (I believe) nixed that idea and we now have a beautiful lakefront with parks, beaches, and museums. Cleveland did not go the same route. Our first road paralleled the freeway, with the lake on our left. A few parks gave people access to the water, but there were no beaches and no seemingly easy way to get to them. Soon we turned away from the freeway and were in a suburb, where our road was smooth and lined with stately mansions. Cleveland dips back to the north between suburbs, and its reappearance was made obvious by the absence of tree-lined streets and the increase in potholes (I was trying to determine whether Milwaukee or Cleveland had worse streets; in our particular stretches of road, I'd say Cleveland took the cake). We continued on through this last bit of Cleveland and passed through several more suburbs to the east, though none boasted the huge homes like those closest to the city.
Although the majority of my daily riding is on city streets, on trips like these, urban riding makes me feel stagnant. I much prefer stretches of rural roads connecting tiny towns to the constant sea of concrete and development close to cities, with the separation of towns only made obvious by the change in pavement and a population side along the road. Today felt long, and even when we had left the more populated area surrounding Cleveland, we still had nearly constant homes by our sides. I'll probably have to get used to it, though, as our next few days will bring us through cities like Erie, PA, Buffalo, Rochester, and Syracuse. I always feel anxious near cities when on tour, like my legs need the freedom afforded by roads with few vehicles and stop signs, my eyes need the peaceful view of prairies and farmlands, and my mind yearns to wander the way it can when not concentrating on dodging potholes and cars.
6/2 Today we crossed the border from Ohio to Pennsylvania and then from Pennsylvania to New York. As we neared the New York border, I waved at a cyclist heading in the opposite direction. It occurred to me that he had probably been in New York just a few minutes ago. State lines have always seemed like magical places to me. As a child, I thought about how great it would be to live on the Wisconsin side of the Mississippi. I imagined hopping in a canoe any given summer day and making the journey across the river to the mysterious state I had never visited. But Minnesota isn't much different from Wisconsin, and I doubt a 10 year old paddling solo in a canoe would fare well amongst the barges on the Mississippi. Still, state borders are a way for us to create order and identity in the vast land that is our country, and they help me to cross off geographical accomplishments as we ride: five states down, four to go.
Thursday, May 30, 2013
5/29 After re-reading the past few entries, I decided I didn't like them. One of my favorite things about our last tour was thinking about what I was going to write as we rode. I could attribute this difference to a number of factors, but I think a lot of it had to do with the fact that my life is so much different now than it was three years ago.
Five months prior to our last tour, I moved back to my parents' house to work some part-time jobs, save money, and plan the trip. In the three years before the tour, I had moved from Madison to Iowa City to Philadelphia to Martinsville, IN, with a summer in Alaska and a lot of other travels in between. My life was very much temporary and focused on what the next adventure would be. As we rode from Portland to Milwaukee, my mind was filled with thoughts about what I wanted to do with my life. I decided to stay in Milwaukee after the trip, and though my life has taken different forms in that time, it is much more permanent than it was three years ago. While the end of grad school is going to bring about another new chapter in my life, now it's more about what I "need" to do rather than what I "want" to do, as I'm facing a small mountain of student loan debt. In my past few years in Milwaukee, I've built friendships and other ties that I value, but which make it harder for my mind to break away from the responsibilities I have at home. I'm not sure how, or if, I can shake this feeling, but I plan on trying to be more in the moment in the coming days. Today we had strong tailwinds and flat roads, making our 65-mile journey to Napoleon, OH easy and fast, but not necessarily helping in my quest to free my mind, since it tended to focus more on the miles ticking away on the odometer and less on the more simple pleasures of the day.
Five months prior to our last tour, I moved back to my parents' house to work some part-time jobs, save money, and plan the trip. In the three years before the tour, I had moved from Madison to Iowa City to Philadelphia to Martinsville, IN, with a summer in Alaska and a lot of other travels in between. My life was very much temporary and focused on what the next adventure would be. As we rode from Portland to Milwaukee, my mind was filled with thoughts about what I wanted to do with my life. I decided to stay in Milwaukee after the trip, and though my life has taken different forms in that time, it is much more permanent than it was three years ago. While the end of grad school is going to bring about another new chapter in my life, now it's more about what I "need" to do rather than what I "want" to do, as I'm facing a small mountain of student loan debt. In my past few years in Milwaukee, I've built friendships and other ties that I value, but which make it harder for my mind to break away from the responsibilities I have at home. I'm not sure how, or if, I can shake this feeling, but I plan on trying to be more in the moment in the coming days. Today we had strong tailwinds and flat roads, making our 65-mile journey to Napoleon, OH easy and fast, but not necessarily helping in my quest to free my mind, since it tended to focus more on the miles ticking away on the odometer and less on the more simple pleasures of the day.
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
5/26 Claire and I happened upon Bike the Drive as we left Chicago this morning. Bike the Drive closes down Lakeshore Drive to only non-motorized vehicles, so we rode with other cyclists along the wide, smooth roads normally reserved only for cars past the giants that occupy the downtown. After about an hour the ride was over, so we hopped back on the Lakeshore path and continued south out of town.
Chicago is even longer than Milwaukee, and after a few hours and some turns through what looked like a small riverside town, I commented that we must be out of it, but CTA bus stops and other signs proved me wrong. When we did finally leave the city by way of a road that wound through tall marsh grasses, we ended up in Indiana, though there were no state signs to greet us.
While at Michael's apartment, I re-checked our directions to Indiana Dunes State Park and was given a 50-mile route by Google maps. The directions we had printed gave us a 60-mile route, probably because it inexplicably took us further south than necessary. We followed these, but we only have the directions printed out and not maps, so due to a few unclear directions (and perhaps some operator error), we ended up ending the day at about 70 miles.
We've still been in some highly populated areas and have been on a lot of bike paths, so I've been feeling like I haven't yet left behind the normal urban life I live. Tonight we're camping, so I do think we're starting to shed some of it. Tomorrow's route is mainly on roads, so I can only hope that the shedding continues.
5/28 Yesterday Claire and I awoke to the sounds of rain and wind. We slept in and debated whether or not to stay where we were for another night, but we decided to continue riding, though making it a shorter day than originally planned.
We ditched the Google maps directions after stopping at a gas station and purchasing a more detailed road map. We've been riding on small rural roads, re-routing when we run into gravel roads, fighting headwinds, soaring down hills, and enjoying the experiences you only have when you leave the main roads and slow your speeds. A few highlights: the sound of electricity rushing through wires and the way it sounds like a waterfall in the rain, a farm with zebras and goats (really!), perfectly spaced rows of bright green crops against the rain-soaked black earth, and an abandoned school where I thought I list Claire.
Tomorrow we'll cross the border to Ohio - already our fourth state!
Chicago is even longer than Milwaukee, and after a few hours and some turns through what looked like a small riverside town, I commented that we must be out of it, but CTA bus stops and other signs proved me wrong. When we did finally leave the city by way of a road that wound through tall marsh grasses, we ended up in Indiana, though there were no state signs to greet us.
While at Michael's apartment, I re-checked our directions to Indiana Dunes State Park and was given a 50-mile route by Google maps. The directions we had printed gave us a 60-mile route, probably because it inexplicably took us further south than necessary. We followed these, but we only have the directions printed out and not maps, so due to a few unclear directions (and perhaps some operator error), we ended up ending the day at about 70 miles.
We've still been in some highly populated areas and have been on a lot of bike paths, so I've been feeling like I haven't yet left behind the normal urban life I live. Tonight we're camping, so I do think we're starting to shed some of it. Tomorrow's route is mainly on roads, so I can only hope that the shedding continues.
5/28 Yesterday Claire and I awoke to the sounds of rain and wind. We slept in and debated whether or not to stay where we were for another night, but we decided to continue riding, though making it a shorter day than originally planned.
We ditched the Google maps directions after stopping at a gas station and purchasing a more detailed road map. We've been riding on small rural roads, re-routing when we run into gravel roads, fighting headwinds, soaring down hills, and enjoying the experiences you only have when you leave the main roads and slow your speeds. A few highlights: the sound of electricity rushing through wires and the way it sounds like a waterfall in the rain, a farm with zebras and goats (really!), perfectly spaced rows of bright green crops against the rain-soaked black earth, and an abandoned school where I thought I list Claire.
Tomorrow we'll cross the border to Ohio - already our fourth state!
Saturday, May 25, 2013
Claire and I awoke to a thermometer that read 45 degrees - probably the chilliest morning we've ridden. We ate a quick breakfast and hit the road early since we had a 90 mile ride ahead of us.
I've ridden to and from the Chicago area four times, and the first time I did it I was struck at how big the city of Milwaukee is. Claire and I left our parent's house in Whitefish Bay a little after 7:00, and it was at least an hour before we had crossed the border into Oak Creek.
The majority of our ride today was on bike paths, which was nice because we were off the road, but, as Claire and I discovered when we spent about 100 miles on one in Minnesota, they're boring and the constant flat terrain means you're pedaling all the time. The path occasionally ended, and sometimes it was clear where to head, but not all the time. I don't know that I've ever made it through Highland Park without feeling confused, and today was no exception. Luckily a nice couple on bikes led us back in the right direction. I was a bit concerned about when the path completely ends in Evanston and we had to rely on Google maps directions, but we made it without incident, even though the route led us through a golf course that spit us out into an alley.
Tonight we're staying with my friend Michael in Chicago (thanks for the pizza!). I think it was the combination of the boring bike path and the fact that we were passing through so many cities with more dense population, but I almost feel as though I didn't enjoy the 90 mile trip here. Tomorrow we hope to make it to Indiana and to camp, and I'm actually looking forward to heading into more rural areas.
I've ridden to and from the Chicago area four times, and the first time I did it I was struck at how big the city of Milwaukee is. Claire and I left our parent's house in Whitefish Bay a little after 7:00, and it was at least an hour before we had crossed the border into Oak Creek.
The majority of our ride today was on bike paths, which was nice because we were off the road, but, as Claire and I discovered when we spent about 100 miles on one in Minnesota, they're boring and the constant flat terrain means you're pedaling all the time. The path occasionally ended, and sometimes it was clear where to head, but not all the time. I don't know that I've ever made it through Highland Park without feeling confused, and today was no exception. Luckily a nice couple on bikes led us back in the right direction. I was a bit concerned about when the path completely ends in Evanston and we had to rely on Google maps directions, but we made it without incident, even though the route led us through a golf course that spit us out into an alley.
Tonight we're staying with my friend Michael in Chicago (thanks for the pizza!). I think it was the combination of the boring bike path and the fact that we were passing through so many cities with more dense population, but I almost feel as though I didn't enjoy the 90 mile trip here. Tomorrow we hope to make it to Indiana and to camp, and I'm actually looking forward to heading into more rural areas.
Friday, May 24, 2013
On the eve of our departure
Tomorrow Claire and I will awake early to begin the second half of our cross country bike journey. We began the voyage three years ago, traveling from Portland, OR to our hometown of Milwaukee, WI. Our final destination, which we hope to reach in three weeks, is Portland, ME.
The 45 days we spent on our bikes three years ago was easily one of the best times of my life, and I have been looking forward to completing the cross-country trek. It's interesting, though, to think about how different this trip will likely be from our last. Claire and I are both at very different points in our lives, and our previous route traversed through the sparsely populated west, while the roads ahead of us will be connected by more towns with fewer miles in between.
What I loved most about our previous bike tour was the freedom; for the most part, we didn't have a great need to rush home. This time, I have to be back by mid-June to return to work. While we mapped out potential stopping points and we should easily be able to make it to Portland in order to catch our June 15th flight, the fact that we do have a pre-determined departure date makes me feel more like this tour is just a brief departure from my normal life, not a beginning to a whole new chapter like the last time.
But, as I reminded myself at several points on our tour three years ago, my focus should be on the journey ahead, and not the life to which I'll be returning. I look forward to the adventures we're about to encounter.
The 45 days we spent on our bikes three years ago was easily one of the best times of my life, and I have been looking forward to completing the cross-country trek. It's interesting, though, to think about how different this trip will likely be from our last. Claire and I are both at very different points in our lives, and our previous route traversed through the sparsely populated west, while the roads ahead of us will be connected by more towns with fewer miles in between.
What I loved most about our previous bike tour was the freedom; for the most part, we didn't have a great need to rush home. This time, I have to be back by mid-June to return to work. While we mapped out potential stopping points and we should easily be able to make it to Portland in order to catch our June 15th flight, the fact that we do have a pre-determined departure date makes me feel more like this tour is just a brief departure from my normal life, not a beginning to a whole new chapter like the last time.
But, as I reminded myself at several points on our tour three years ago, my focus should be on the journey ahead, and not the life to which I'll be returning. I look forward to the adventures we're about to encounter.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Update. One year later.
While passing through Missoula last summer, Claire and I stopped at Adventure Cycling Association's headquarters where we were treated to ice cream and soda and got our picture taken for an ongoing project the organization does. They photograph every touring cyclist that visits with their bike and gather information about them. They mail out a form for you to update them on how your trip ended up. I received the form some time last August and, as usual, life got in the way and it remained on my desk for nearly a year. Yesterday, as I paged through the most recent issue of the Adventure Cycling Association's magazine and spotted the featured portrait and story, I realized it had been a year to the day since Claire and I returned home to Milwaukee and maybe I should finally send in my update. I took a few minutes to fill in the form and decided to add it to my blog as well, since I had also been meaning to write one final reflection entry after the trip. Sorry, some of this is repeat of what I just said:
As I flipped to the portrait at the back of the most recent issue of Adventure Cyclist, it crossed my mind that it had been exactly one year to the day since my sister Claire and I returned from our Portland, OR to Milwaukee, WI bike tour, and I'd venture to guess that this update has been sitting in my "to do" pile for nearly the same amount of time.
In all, our trip covered approximately 2600 miles and took us 45 days. We stayed in hotels only three times and only took three rest days.
When asked what my favorite part of the trip was, I'll give two answers. My favorite location was Idaho - the beautiful Clearwater River and fragrant pines that lined the highways we rode are second to none. But my favorite thing about the trip was definitely the people we met along the way. I often relate to others the story of the worst day of our trip - over 90 degrees with a strong headwind in the very hilly badlands of Montana - a day where we had to bike nearly 100 miles to reach the next town. Claire and I both broke down in tears that day. It was hard not to. Seeing your odometer read 6 MPH as you go down a hill and realizing you still have 50 miles to go makes for a very difficult day. Claire and I both owe much of our sanity that day to a man who saw us struggling, drove into town to buy cold water and Gatorade for us, and returned to give it to us - a journey that must have taken him at least 40 miles out of his way. We met countless other people who offered us places to sleep, friendly conversation, or even just extra room on the shoulder of the road. in my everyday life I don't come into contact with strangers like I did last summer, and it's easy to forget the inherent kindness in others.
In retrospect, one of the other things I liked best about the trip was our freedom. Everything we needed to live was on our bikes and, with the exception of a late August return requirement, we could take all the time we wanted. My life seems so busy right now - almost every minute seems tied up in something, be it work, friends, volunteering, family, etc. I often think of last summer and long for the days when my mind was only focused on the moment - right now I need to brush my teeth; right now I need to make dinner; right now I need to keep pedaling. These days I'm constantly thinking of when I can fit in everything I need to do in short 24 hours I'm given in a day.
I was hoping to be able to sneak in a shorter tour at the end of this summer before starting graduate school, but it's looking unlikely. Claire and I still hope to finish our cross country tour and ride from Milwaukee to Portland, ME at some point, but when that will happen still remains unknown.
As I flipped to the portrait at the back of the most recent issue of Adventure Cyclist, it crossed my mind that it had been exactly one year to the day since my sister Claire and I returned from our Portland, OR to Milwaukee, WI bike tour, and I'd venture to guess that this update has been sitting in my "to do" pile for nearly the same amount of time.
In all, our trip covered approximately 2600 miles and took us 45 days. We stayed in hotels only three times and only took three rest days.
When asked what my favorite part of the trip was, I'll give two answers. My favorite location was Idaho - the beautiful Clearwater River and fragrant pines that lined the highways we rode are second to none. But my favorite thing about the trip was definitely the people we met along the way. I often relate to others the story of the worst day of our trip - over 90 degrees with a strong headwind in the very hilly badlands of Montana - a day where we had to bike nearly 100 miles to reach the next town. Claire and I both broke down in tears that day. It was hard not to. Seeing your odometer read 6 MPH as you go down a hill and realizing you still have 50 miles to go makes for a very difficult day. Claire and I both owe much of our sanity that day to a man who saw us struggling, drove into town to buy cold water and Gatorade for us, and returned to give it to us - a journey that must have taken him at least 40 miles out of his way. We met countless other people who offered us places to sleep, friendly conversation, or even just extra room on the shoulder of the road. in my everyday life I don't come into contact with strangers like I did last summer, and it's easy to forget the inherent kindness in others.
In retrospect, one of the other things I liked best about the trip was our freedom. Everything we needed to live was on our bikes and, with the exception of a late August return requirement, we could take all the time we wanted. My life seems so busy right now - almost every minute seems tied up in something, be it work, friends, volunteering, family, etc. I often think of last summer and long for the days when my mind was only focused on the moment - right now I need to brush my teeth; right now I need to make dinner; right now I need to keep pedaling. These days I'm constantly thinking of when I can fit in everything I need to do in short 24 hours I'm given in a day.
I was hoping to be able to sneak in a shorter tour at the end of this summer before starting graduate school, but it's looking unlikely. Claire and I still hope to finish our cross country tour and ride from Milwaukee to Portland, ME at some point, but when that will happen still remains unknown.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
