Once again, I ate as much as I possibly could to get ready for the long day. I had multiple options of possible destinations for the day, and tried to be as realistic as possible. It really comes down to where I am/how far I have gone, how far away the next town is, and how late in the day it is. It also helps to know the terrain/weather, as the hills and wind always add time.
I was so nervous. The waitress told me they were roads that she didn't want to drive. I had been told by many that the grades of these hills were over 20%, although no one ever seemed to be able to give me a number (the worst grade I have climbed is 14%, and I can assure you that this was worse that 14%). Unfortunately, it is like any other mountain range that we have climbed: the mountain won't go away until it is behind you, no matter how hard you wish it away. The only way to get it behind you is to do it.
I actually had a nice warm up, and while the weather was cold in the morning (41 degrees), it didn't take me long to start taking layers off as the sun climbed higher in the sky. I knew that I had some slightly tough hills and then two really awful hills before Emmience, which was 19 miles away. I was able to speed through the first part, and take advantage of my momentum up the smaller hills, and own the flats. But, when I got to these really bad ones, I will tell you, it was almost torture. Usually I don't shift to my highest gear until three quarters of the way up the hill, and on these, I was shifting toward the bottom, and literally leg pressing my way up the hill. Every stroke I took, it felt like gravity was pulling me backwards; my cadence was so slow that it seemed gravity would step up and try to take over at this opportune time. I had to use my arms and pull myself up the hill, because my legs needed all of the help they could get. I was going 3 mph. I could hear the cars coming from a half mile away, so one of the really bad stretches, I could make a zig zag up the hill. I tried everything that I knew how to do. And when I got to the top, it was the same thing as yesterday and the day before, you don't rest. You can't rest. You have to get back to the lower gear and gain momentum for the down hills and flats. What cracked me up was that there were the really steep parts, and then sometimes it would lessen up to what a normal hard hill would be like, and then get back into the insanely steep part again. This relatively "normal hard hill" section became the only opportunity to give your muscles a break and catch your breath, and if you were lucky, grab a swig of water.
I got to Emmience by 10:30ish. The next town was Ellington, 27 miles away. Two locals stopped me to ask me questions. They both said that Ellington would do me in for the day, and I would most likely stop there. (I knew i had more than 27 miles on me) When people asked what direction I was going in, they would just shake their heads, and more often than not, tell me that they don't like driving on those roads in a car.... which was such a great boost of confidence. Mentally, I had to break the next 27 miles into two sections: 13 miles and then 14. I find that it is easier to get to the final destination after the end of a daunting day when you break the day up into small, realistic goals. As the hours pass, the miles tend to blur together and as your muscles start hurting, it is easy to doubt that you will be able to make another 50 miles. Breaking those 50 miles into 5 segments, 10 miles seems very easy to do. Before you know it, you have reached 50 miles.
It didn't actually take me long to reach Ellington. I stopped at this small convenient store because it said it had a deli. It was more of a beer/liquor mart with a deli thrown in the back. I should take this time to note that it is very common for people to smoke inside convenient stores, and motels. Needless to say, I would have enjoyed one of the biggest, meatiest sandwiches i have had in a while a bit more. If i didn't have to fight to breathe clean air. I did have a wonderful conversation with the owner though, and he let me sit on the big ice cream cooler and eat (away from the smoke, plus there were no more chairs) and we chatted while listening to Everybody Loves Raymond. He didn't think I would be able to finish the sandwich, but much to his amusement, I brought my "A" game. I was also very excited at this point because I had just hit the 2500 mile mark, and that meant that I am officially well into the second half of my journey, and I must admit, it those miles really flew by. It is becoming harder and harder to fully grasp that we started in San Francisco 2500 ago and counting. Each obstacle has made the next easier to overcome, but it has also changed the way we ride. The mindset and way we rode when we left San Francisco was different than that when we reached Pueblo and now leaving Missouri. It is pretty amazing what time, and i suppose experience, can do.
After lunch, I knew that there was going to be one last big hill ahead of me, but I had put the worst behind me. As I had been approaching, Ellington, I knew that each hill was one less that I had left to climb, and that thousands of bikers have come through this area, so it was not impossible to do, right? I read a quote the other night that I felt was pertinent to today, and to all of our other extremely hard days of climbs or headwinds. Actually, I think it is applicable to the entirety of this journey: "Nothing is impossible; there are ways that lead to everything, and if we had sufficient will we should always have sufficient means. It is often merely for an excuse that we say things are impossible." (Francois de la Rochefoucauld). I am learning that if you have the want, the desire, the passion to do something, it truly can be done (within your means). Admittedly, there have been times when I have made the excuse that things were impossible to do. It is an easy excuse to make, but now I realize how wrong I have been. I'm learning that it is the attitude of the approach that makes the difference. I had to throw my fears and anxieties out the window when I got on my bike. I had to put things in perspective, and I had to dive in, because those road grades were not going to change on my behalf. They would be extremely difficult, but extremely difficult isn't the same thing as "impossible." I wanted to put those hills behind me, to get out of Missouri, to get closer to home. If I had said this trip was impossible, (which a couple years ago I would have), look what I would be missing out on.
With about 10 miles left to Pilot Knob, my destination for the night, I was so just so psyched. I didn't care that my chain had come off and I had grease everywhere (I am really good at making small messes bigger than they have to be). I didn't care that there were more hills. I didn't care that there was wind. The rumble strips didn't phase me: I was too busy being happy that I was almost done with 90 miles of hellacious climbs, of sweat, of pain, of blood, of dirt, of grease. Everything hurt, but I was just so excited that I combined 90 miles with some of the worst hills that I have ever seen (check out the elevation profile)
Subway was a beautiful treat for me in Pilot Knob, as well as the half gallon of sherbet. I slept knowing that even with another long day ahead of me, Illinois was in my horizon, with the Mighty Mississippi to welcome me to the seventh state of this trek.
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