I woke up Monday morning to a cold, cold morning. Because I had signed a waiver that I wouldn't "cook" anything in the hotel room, (which was odd, because there was a microwave in there... Did someone call ahead and tell these people what a wonderful cook I am?), I decided it was the "right thing to do" to take the stove outside and boil water, even though I have used the stove indoors plenty of times before. A 70 year old man was out smoking a cigarette. He and his friend were in Kentucky to pick up a sports car (I can't remember what kind), and he was originally from South Carolina. "Do you know where South Carolina is?" I am no geography genius (I forgot that I was going to cross the Mississippi), but I would hope that most people know the general location of the Carolinas. The man may have just taken a look at my hair, (photo attached), and questioned what was underneath...
Riding early in the morning in the cold fall air, it seems as though the humid air becomes heavy, and you can feel the difference as you ride through it; it almost feels like you are being sprinkled with the morning dew that has left a sparkle on the landscape around you. It adds to the chill of the air. At this point in the morning, the world around you is still waking up, and the sun's energy isn't quite enough to awake the wind's ferocity for the day. There is, however, a "direction" to the air; the air is energetic, it is constantly moving. Although it may not be strong enough to result in the movement of leaves or long grass, the morning air is still moving around you. On a bike, it is less subtle, because you are able to feel it's resistance as you ride. I usually look to the grass or bushes on the side of the road or the trees to see what the wind is doing during the day, because it sometimes feels as though it is coming from all directions. But at this time I have to really focus on what it feels like to know where it is coming from. But when I stop to drink water or find my location, it is hard to feel again. It is a revitalising feeling to be able to stand and try to feel the energy from the air around you, to try to focus on the world outside of you and how you interact with it; focus on what is happening in the moment, step outside of yourself to remind ourselves that we are constantly surrounded by energy and life. It can take you away for a moment as you try to still yourself and try to find the movement in the "stillness" around you.
I stopped at a gas station, about 15 miles in to my ride to warm up with some coffee and grab a quick snack. I was full of excitement as I knew I was about seven miles away from the Eastern Standard Time zone, the fourth and final time zone of the trip: the thought of which is completely surreal. This is a huge milestone, because I am finally in my "home" time zone; I am almost home.... Home. What a wonderful, yet far away, thought. (Attached are the pictures of the sign, including my attempt to do a handstand).
I know this will sound peculiar, but have really struggled with the coffee stations in the Mid-West convenient stores. None of them are the same, and I often find myself really having to look for where the coffee is as there is so much cappuccino and hot chocolate machines, and sometimes the coffee itself is in a machine (you press a button for coffee, strong coffee, or decaf). I have also found that powdered creamer is the standby for most of the gas stations I have been to, and it is stored at very interesting locations, away from the coffee station. At this particular gas station, I couldn't figure out the spicket, and fumbled for a good minute or two trying to figure it out. Once I realized that I was fumbling with the spicket cover, and there was actually no coffee in this particular kraft, I must have made a face, because the man that was sitting at a table nearby let out this laugh. I looked over and he was shaking his head with a smile on his face, as he was chomping on a big bear claw. I told him that I was secretly hoping that he didn't see that. He answered me with a bigger smile, and a chuckle as he took another huge bite out of his donut. Glad I could amuse him.
Route 60 really was a wonderful ride. The shoulder was not too bad, and neither was the traffic, until I got closer to Louisville. It was a bit overwhelming, as I was travelling on a stretch with many stores and businesses. And while I had to be cognoscent of the glass and metal in the shoulder, it far more important to be weary of drivers that were looking to turn, or were made that I was not on the sidewalk (which was also crowded, (and bumpy), and I can assure you that it could have been hazardous for people waffling uh the opposite direction with the wide load that I am carrying. At times like this in traffic, you hope for the best, but expect the worse so you are 100% focused on what you are doing in the world around you, and what other people could do. I found myself constantly trying to be one step ahead of the game.
I found a Subway, and indulged in my regular black forest ham creation. A police officer was sitting at the table next to where I put my helmet when I walked in. He asked me where I was coming from, and when I told him, his eyes got wide, as he had just taken a bite. And then he just had this look of "are you nuts" as he shook his head, and I knew what he wanted to say. "I know, you think I am crazy, huh?" He smiled and shrugged, and pretty much acknowledged that I was correct.
It took me forever to navigate Louisville, but I got smart halfway through and used "Google Navigation" with one headphone in my ear so I could hear what the phone was saying and keep an ear on the traffic, etc. It definitely cut down on time as I didn't have to stop as much to check the map, but the stoplights and stop signs do add up. What was interesting to me was that although I was starting and stopping all of the time, I was doing so in my third chain ring, which basically means you are in your lowest gears. Six weeks ago, in San Francisco, I was doing much of my starts at lights and stop signs in my first chain ring, as my legs weren't accustomed to all of the extra weight I was carrying. It is exciting to see how much stronger my legs have gotten over the last few weeks, and that now, the starts are second nature to me! Pretty amazing!
Shelbyville was about 20 miles outside of Louisville, and I have to say I passed some of the most gorgeous houses I have seen, with beautiful lawns and landscaping. I really could have stopped and taken a picture of every house I saw, because each was so ornate and unique and absolutely huge, but I felt as though I had stopped and started enough for one day in the city (it really is exhausting after a while, getting a good pace, stopping and then having to start all over again at each stop). I told my sister later that night that if we had been driving with my dad on those roads, we would have needed him to let us drive, because he would have been rubber necking so badly as he passed this landscape that it simply wouldn't be safe (he loved looking at houses and land).
Finishing the day with another 94 miles under my belt, I hit up Subway for the second time that day, (i apologize door any envy I may be creating) and, exhausted, found a place to rest my legs for the night. (The door to the hotel was open, so I practically rode my bike inside, slowly, which really startled the lady at the desk... whoops).
Later, I was on the phone, sitting at the guest computers in the lobby so I could look at the weather for the next day or so. As I was gabbing away, I looked over at the display of brochures to my left, that held about 60 different brochures. I had glanced at the display a few times that night, not really paying attention, but this time one of them caught my eye. The top of the brochure was red, and in white lettering, it read "The Stephen Foster Story." It was incredible. I am beginning to see, more and more, that even though I ride in solitude, I may not be making this journey "alone."
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