My new plan of attack is to take a few half days here and there instead of full recovery days, so I can still make progress, get laundry done, but also give my legs a bit of a break. That plan of attack started today! I got up early, made some oatmeal and coffee (in a real coffee maker!!) and stepped out top the, cold morning sun.
Goodness gracious... those hills are unbelievable. Descending down hills have always something that I have been cautious about, and I believe for good reason, especially when caring all of this extra weight. Now, I find myself actively biking down these hills so it will help me get up the next straight up and down, daunting, makes your legs shake and your body sweat just looking at it kind of hill. And I mean actively... Pedaling as fast as I can, going 36 mph, and then within 20 second, (even less than that it feels like sometimes) I am at 4 mph, and i have to shift down through my gears in an efficient manner and smoothly so i don't mess up my cadence or stroke. This happened over, and over and over. When I got to the top, instead of relaxing as I reached the crest of the hill and enjoying the ride down, I had to start shifting immediately to my lowest gears and try to gain as much speed as possible. This actually helps with the dogs: They can't catch me flying down the hill, and I'm a bore to them while I am going up because I'm going too slow.
Around 20 miles into my trip, I stopped in small town called Walnut Grove to check my back tire. It seemed as though something was spraying me. There were a few men standing around their trucks outside of the store who pointed me to the air compressor after seeing me struggle with my small hand pump. As I walked my bike back to the store so I could use their restroom, I got intercepted by these locals, that honestly reminded me of some of the small town Vermonters. One of them asked me where I was from. I told him that I was from Vermont, but didn't specify a town because I have found that usually people have never heard of some of the towns, and honestly it is just easier. But, this time, this guy's response was: "Oh yes, Vermont! I've been to East Montpelier a lot, near Lyle Haven Farm. Do ya know that town?" Actually, that it's where I grew up, and he knows a father of somebody I went to high school with. What a small world! Who would have thought, in rural Missouri! And, talk about being at the right place at the right time. We kept taking for a while. They really cracked me up. I locked my bike, went inside, and when I came out, they were laughing at me. "You know," one of them said, "We are not gonna take your bike cause we are too lazy, and we don't bike, but we would let anybody else take it... Not that they would want to. No one would be crazy enough to take your bike and all of that stuff.. Maybe your stuff, but people aren't crazy enough to bike on these hills. Plus, they wouldn't get very far." They also asked me why on Earth all of us bikers are "nuts" enough to go this route through Missouri, because in Northern Missouri it is flat. Oh I really didn't need to know that... what I was missing out on. I told them it was the Adventure Cyclist Association map that I was following, that I was now incredibly angry with, especially since I knew that the hills would only get steeper and longer in the best couple if days. Flat lands sounded too good to be true. I was also asked by them how many times it i had to change my tire on this trip, and I totally jinxed myself when i told them that i hadn't had to change one yet.....
3 miles later, I got my first flat. The wonderful people at Onion River had put some liquid in my tires that would seal harden if there was a puncture or rip... Like "Fix a Flat." I had put about 2300 miles on my tires at this point, and I think it just wore thin, because at that point in time, I couldn't find anything in the tire. It was my back tire and is supporting the majority of my weight. There are no shoulders in Missouri, and I didn't want to pull off in the tall grass and hang out with the tarantulas or scorpions, so my next option was a farm house driveway/lawn. My bike pump didn't really want to cooperate, and I was about to call the store I had just left to see if the guys were still there when the owners of the house. I can't really say that they were all too impressed by finding a grubby, greasy, frustrated girl on their lawn battling with a tire tube, but they were quick to help out. Mr. Creed assisted me in what became the easiest tire change I had done, especially since my left hand is still very finicky. His air compressor was a huge help to the process.
And I was off. I scarfed down some Chef Boyardee and Pizza at a convenient store, and I was off to finish the last half of my "recovery day" to end in Marshfield, although it was much later than I had wanted. The hills had no problems slowing me down, and I rolled into Marshfield at around 4:30.
After a nice delectable turkey sub from Subway (September is their birthday month, so their variety of footlongs has tripled, which is great news for me), I made my way to the hotel lobby to work on the guest computer as a group of people came in and plopped down on the couches and chairs next to me, looking worn out from a long day of travelling. As they waited for their group lead to take care of the reservations, they said something about biking, and the clerk announced that I was biking across the country. So, they just turned at me, and stared for a second, and then started firing questions at me. There was a large range of ages, it seemed, and they were travelling to do work. One of the kids, around 20 or so, just couldn't believe that I could bike not only as far as I did, but at all. He really cracked me up, actually, because as I was making conversation, he would make comments like "Oh my gosh I couldn't do that. I just got tired from riding in a car," or "I just can't believe it," or "55 miles, that is not short, I don't think I could run one." Obviously, he was exaggerating, it went on and in, but he made a point that he wasn't an avid cyclist. His mannerisms and facial expressions were very amusing. Later, after they ate, one of the project managers who was doing much of the "interrogating" came and sat down and we chatted for about an hour. He was so easy and enjoyable to talk to. We talked about everything from acupuncture to volleyball (he was convinced that I should have played volleyball, his daughter (one of three) had played at a D-I school). He told me that he lost his uncle last year to brain cancer. His uncle had worked as a riverboat captain on the Mississippi for 37 years, and he fondly recalled the many adventures that they found on the river together. It has been incredible to me how many people that I have met throughout this journey who know someone or has known someone with brain cancer. I know that it is a disease that is more common than most of us would care to admit, but it just seems that this trip has allowed a network of support and connections to grow... It is healing to have the common ground of the experience itself. I'm starting to think that it is more than we were just in the right place at the right time, that it possible that people walk into your life, or paths cross at particular moments for a particular reason, and it more than just coincidence.
The kid, Chase, who was in pure disbelief, came and sat down with his buddy, and they were telling me about all sorts of trails near the Mississippi (after they all made fun of me for not realizing that I was going to cross the Mississippi... and yes I admit, kind of a big one to "forget" about). And then all of sudden as Chase was telling me about a particular trail made from an old railroad bed, his eyes grew wide, and sat up in his chair and said, "I kind of want to do it now... I don't know.. I think it would be kind of cool don't ya think... bike the KMT? Yeah I could do that."
He went on, but that is pretty much all I needed to hear. I was ecstatic that his thoughts turned around. I gave him my card and told him to let me know when it happens. He told me that it might take him a few years. I told him to start off with small rides... 5-10 miles... "10 MILES?!?! How about one?" (I'm pretty sure he admitted later that he was kind of excited). And he was right.. That is really all it takes. Just start with one, and the rest will follow. After all, big things, have small beginnings, right? We all have to start somewhere, as long as we start.
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