Usually, when I go down to breakfast in the morning, there are very few people that can "out eat" me. In fact, I don't know I can remember the last time that it happened (except maybe Lindsay's last breakfast before we reached Pueblo, when even she was shocked). There are also very few people who are eating. It is nice, and quiet, and I have a lovely routine down. Today, I was completely overwhelmed by the University of Northern Illinois Men's and Women's Cross Country team trying to eat at the same time. I didn't really know what to do. Every time I turned around to get something, there were 3 people there. Luckily, I ate with the girls, (because the guys would have really put me to shame), and a family that was full of screeching kids. I certainly held my own, but it was certainly not easy.
The morning was gorgeous. I left the hotel by about 8:00, the sun was out, there were not too many people out on the road, that had a large shoulder; there was no wind, and it was flat with perfect, rolling hills. I flew. I was in heaven. In roughly 49 minutes, I had made it 15 miles to Marion. I'll tell ya, I was just on cloud nine. I went into the store to get a celebratory cup of coffee, and struck up a conversation with the wonderful lady behind the counter. She makes jewelry and gives it to her sister to sell, with proceeds going to research for juvenile diabetes. I gave her one of my cards, and she asked me more about the trip. I am still in the habit of telling people how far "we" have come, or where "we" stay at night. And because I am alone, they look at me and say, "Oh, so you are traveling in a group." And then I explain myself, and how I am headed to Rochester to see Lindsay, and I pretty much tell them all about her. And once it hits them that I am alone, I am usually asked "Aren't you scared?" And to be honest, no. I am really not. I was a little nervous in the beginning, trying to figure out what to do with my bike and what tweaks I would have to make. I was nervous to lose the best travel buddy that exists. I still channel Lindsay all the time and often ask her advice. I now look at it as though I am just going to go for a long ride by myself everyday, and I have gone on plenty of rides by myself before. I have to be safe, look out for myself, and to look out for other people, especially in traffic. But the only thing that I can really control is how I take care of myself and how I carry myself, and I will lose that as well as my focus if I allow myself to be scared. People can also sense that. The hardest thing about the situation is that I am naturally a very trusting person, and now, because I am a young female traveling alone, I have to be cautious. I have to be careful about telling people where I am going, etc.
My morning and early afternoon was absolutely fantastic. I was flying on the flats, and then a tailwind kicked in and bumped me up to the low 20's. It was miraculous. Just before I crossed Indiana, the wind started to change to a head wind. I do have to say that it is a remarkable experience to be riding when the wind is changing, because it seems as though you are witnessing, and are a part of, Nature's inner struggles. The wind fights itself, and it starts to come from many directions instead of just one, until the new direction wins and takes over.
The headwind was with me for the entirety of Indiana, but it wasn't that strong. I stopped and grabbed a quick snack, and then started the last leg of the day towards Evansville on Route 62, which is full of traffic but had a pretty good shoulder. I was using Google Maps for bikes, and I guess they didn't pick up on the fact that 62 becomes a major expressway through Evansville. When you are on a bike, it is kind of a crucial thing to know. So I quickly had to go to plan B, and get off the first exit. It may have been a saving grace, as the shoulder was starting to get full of metal pieces and glass and stones.
Exit 1 took me to the University of Southern Illinois Campus. From the parts that I saw, it was a beautiful campus, and I think my dad would have loved the fact that I got lost in the campus, because he really loved looking at random college campuses (especially if they had "All you can eat" dining halls). I reinvested my faith in Google Maps, as I really didn't have any other option at that point. When I got off the exit, I was at 92 miles and I had made it there in 5 hours even. I was headed for a new personal record. Unfortunately, the city slowed me down. I had to go much slower and I had to stop frequently to make sure that I was on course. I had to turn around a few times because I went past my turn, and then I realized that the turn I wanted to go on was a Parkway, and those aren't really good for bicycles either. It was a fiasco, but I hit the 100 mile mark at 5:45 minutes of actual riding time, and still beating my time in my training days by 9 minutes. I was pretty pumped about that.
It took me a good two hours to get to the hotel, 16 miles after I got off the highway. I was starving at this point, and it was not easy passing all of the hamburger stands, or the huge barbeque in a random parking lot. I was drooling. And while I did stop very frequently to look at my GPS on my phone, I was also being updated extremely exciting news: The Spartan Beast race results, that my boyfriend Nate, his brother, and my friend Meg, (my friend with wings as feet) had all just finished competing in. In short, I am extremely impressed and proud of all them. Nate finished in the top 1% (23 of 2500 contestants), which is seriously an amazing feat, as this is the hardest obstacle course in America that takes an average of 7 hours up and down an incredibly mountain. His brother and Meg also did exceptionally well.
Anyway, as I was getting deeper into the city, I was becoming more and more crowded by cars, trucks, and motorcyclists buzzing about on their Saturday nights. The traffic didn't really bother me, it was the amount of stores. It was just congested and overwhelming. It seemed as though there were buildings on top of buildings. There were chains and their spin-offs a block down the road from each other competing for the same customers. I was honestly just grossed out. Store signs lit up the sky as the sun fell. As I was rolling in to the hotel, I was truly overwhelmed by state of consumerism that I immersed in. (That being said, I was not upset that there was an Olive Garden just across the street. I have seriously been day-dreaming about this since the desert). I am not really talking about the restaurants, although sometimes I feel as though they can be just as bad: doing anything to promote their label and make a buck or two, even if it compromises quality. I just felt claustrophobic and confined; I guess I am getting too used to the open fields that go on for miles, but I don't know if that is necessarily a bad thing. In all fairness, I think growing up in Vermont has made me unaccustomed to tightly packed shipping plazas in urban areas, so maybe trip has only exacerbated that for me. Of course, to each their own.
I did go to the Olive Garden, and there were about 30 people at 7:00 pm waiting to eat. Because I was alone, I was able to sit at the bar, stuff my face with the most delicious food I have had in a while, and then leave, seeing many of the same people on my way out that were there on my way in.
I had put in 108 miles for the day, and the navigation through the city really wore me out. I went to bed crossing my fingers and my toes that it would be easier to leave this city than it was to enter it. Maybe I should have crossed my arms and my legs, too....
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