Day 50: Eight years

Before breakfast, I decided to tackle my tire that was giving me some issues the day before. I took the tube out and put it in the sink to look for a leak, but couldn't find anything (I do have to admit, however, that I wasn't looking as diligently as I did in Illinois when I patched my tire). I decided to change the tire, anyway. Everything was going well until I tried to blow up the tire using my CO2 cartridge. The cartridge didn't seem to want to engage, and when I pulled the cartridge away from the adapter, a piece shot out and I was afraid that I had hit Marie, who was watching earnestly as I worked. I think she sat back a bit after that! Whoops! We decided that the adapter was now missing the piece that punctured the cartridge, (it was somewhere in the room) and I would need to take the tire to a gas station... after breakfast, of course.

We went downstairs for breakfast, where we had the breakfast special of eggs, sausage, and pancakes (George had bacon because he is trying to eat as much as he can before the world-wide bacon shortage takes place (yes, it is a real thing)). Marie and George brought a small container of Vermont Maple Syrup. Talk about a treat. It was absolutely scrumptious and a wonderful little taste of VT (one of many). I am used to the syrup congealing before it reaches the food, so even the texture was a nice change, let alone the decadent taste.

By the time we finished eating, went to the gas station for air, and packed up my bike, it was about 9:30, and I needed to get to a bike shop to get a CO2 adapter. The closest bike shop that was open was in Ashland, so we headed up that way. I should also take the time to mention that I woke up with a lovely cold, so we made a quick stop for cold medicine and then I was off, sadly. It makes sense that my legs and my body were completely exhausted yesterday since I was apparently coming down with something.

A few miles in, I noticed that there was a familiar bumping feeling as I rode, even though my tire wasn't flat. Right away, I knew that my tire wasn't seated correctly, and pulled off to find that part of the tire was pulled off the rim, (really good thing I caught it). I deflated the tire so I could tried re-seat it, and inflated it again with one of my cartridges and new adapter. It was a tad better, but not perfect, so I decided to see if I could get to the next gas station (not that I knew where one was), or somebody with an air compressor so I didn't blow through the CO2 cartridges that I had, (I still haven't changed my front tire, and I am trying to be as cautious as possible with supplies to make sure that I am prepared). I found a garage sale, and asked if they had an air compressor or pump. The pump that they had didn't work, and so I decided that I had to use a CO2 cartridge as my tire was mostly deflated from the faulty pump. My attempt to fix the problem failed, again, and the tire felt the worse that it had been all day. I was worried at that point that it might have something to do with the rim, and as it is somewhat dangerous to ride with a tire that is not seated correctly, I decided that I had to get to a bike shop. The closest one that would really do me any good was in Medina, as I didn't get a good vibe from the guy at the last shop. Luckily my aunt and uncle were still close by to save the day. I didn't think I would see them again so soon!!

They brought me to a wonderful bike shop in Medina called Century Cycles, and I was feeling quite guilty for missing the mileage, even though it was for maintenance/breakdown purposes. I later came to the conclusion that I will be technically be riding more than "coast to coast" as my trip will total just shy of 4000 miles. I am lucky that George and Marie were able to help, (as I could have potentially needed to get a ride from a stranger), and that this didn't happen to me in, say, Kansas, and the nearest bike shop was more than 100 miles away (then I would have felt very guilty).

Century Cycles had just opened up in this particular location only three days before. I had a long conversation about biking and my trip with a very friendly lady named Cathy, who worked the floor, as Ed was taking a look at my bike in the back. He took one look at my bike and believed that the brakes were actually rubbing on the rim and causing the issue, as they must have been hit or rattled at some point. He deflated and then re-inflated the tire, and then made me test the bike out in the parking lot. Everything felt good. Cathy gave me a T-Shirt with their slogan "Define your life, ride a bike," and Ed didn't charge me for his services after he found out why I was doing the trip. They also took a picture of me to put on their blog, which was such a privilege: http://blog. centurycycles.com/ , scroll down to Sept 29). They were so nice, and so thoughtful. The atmosphere in the store and the people who worked there were awesome, and it is what you look for when you walk into a bike store. They were passionate spot cycling, and were eager to help the customers that walked through their door, and more often than not, shared their passion. They practiced "personalized" biking, or tuning in on what would be most beneficial to their customer rather than most profitable. The store reminded me a lot of Onion River in Montpelier, VT.

It was 2:00 pm, and we decided to get a quick bite to eat after we left the shop. As we were indulging in sandwiches (other than Subway, how nice), I was thinking about what Ed had said, and it dawned on me that I hadn't even clipped the wire back into the cantilever brake when I had the felt the worst of the bumping, so it may not have been the brake. I decided to call Ed and tell him that, and he advised us to bring the bike back to him.

Ed took the bike for a ride out back, and adjusted the shifting, and informed me that I needed some work done to my axle and bearings when I was done with the trip as it making the frame shake a bit as I rode. He said that I could wait until I finished my trip to take care of it, and that I could get by with some touch-ups that he made. I asked them if I should get new cleats, as it was getting harder to clip in and out of my pedals, and when I held my foot up so they could see the bottom of my shoe, both Ed and his co-worker were shocked at what they saw. Ed said that they were "the most worn down cleats" he has ever seen, and his partner said that I wouldn't have made it out of Ohio without getting stuck in my pedal. Attached is a picture of the new cleat next to the old. I had to raise my seat to compensate for the difference. I kept the old cleats for nostalgia purposes. Ed had me give the bike a spin out back with my new cleats when he was done, but without panniers. He and Cathy started laughing at me when I took my first pedal and had a hard time balancing without my bags, as my front tire moved back and forth many times before I found my center of gravity. The bike feels so different without all of that weight.

At that point, it was about 3:15, and Marie and George decided that they would stay another night as they didn't want to face a 6.5 hour drive to Michigan, and I think they were concerned that I was starting to feel very lousy at that point. I was exhausted physically, and the steep hills to Streetsboro certainly didn't help, but I forced myself up them: I wanted to accomplish some mileage that day, if for no other reason but for my dad, as it was the eight year anniversary of his passing.

It is honestly very difficult to fathom that eight years have passed, and I can honestly say that many of those days were spent dumbfounded and partially paralyzed by the fact that he was gone at all. There are many times when something would happen in my life, even something very small, like finding a good ice cream spot or something that I had seen, and I would think to myself "I can't wait to tell Dad about that." And as soon as that thought crossed my mind, just as quickly it would hit me that I couldn't do that, and I would get fierce twisting of my stomach, a knot in my chest that would threaten to rise to my throat. I just didn't want to believe that my father, the man I looked up to most, was gone. I didn't want to believe the ways that he suffered. I was so hurt, and so angry. So angry.

It hit me in Kansas, and I know exactly when, and I am pretty sure I could describe exactly what I was passing as I realized this. It was the first day of the bad winds; my first taste of what the wind in Kansas are capable of. Towards the end of my 100+ mile ride, the majority of which I spent infuriated by the wind that was successfully slowing me down the entire day, it dawned on me that I really couldn't be angry at the wind: it was part of nature, there was nothing that I could do about it, there was nothing to be angry at. I had to accept it, acknowledge it, to let it be and focus on the rest of my surroundings.. The good things. And as I was thinking that, it hit me that I just couldn't be angry (or as angry) anymore about the fact that I had lost my father, that he had died, because he had lived and I had had the opportunity to have known him, to love him, and to call him Dad. It was like the wind: it just is. There is nothing I could do about it, except cherish the memories and accept that it had happened, as nature does. I can now only be angry at the fact that brain tumors exist, and that is what had put me on my bicycle.... That is a fight that can, and is being fought.

That is not to say that I miss him any less. There are so many things that I wish I could do with him, even small things that people may seem insignificant, like even drinking coffee, watch a ball game... I have a list of conversations that we could have. I would give anything to go snowmobiling with him, to have a beer, to help him clean his cars from the auction. I would give everything to see the twinkle in his eyes one more time as he is cracking a joke, or from merely smiling. I can't. What is important, however, is that I once could.

My father has given me many gifts. He has given me an incredible childhood, one that was undoubtedly cut short, but that some people never get to experience. He gave me unconditional love. He has given me countless memories. He has given me his love for people. He has given me the gift of loving to laugh. And, among many other things, he has given me the courage and the strength to embark on this journey, to dismiss my fears, ignore my vulnerabilities to just do it; to open myself up to the world and see where it may take me.

Throughout the last eight years, I tried to grasp that he is still with me, through various signs. Now, I know it, feel it. For example, my family sees his spirit reflected in the presence of the dragonfly. I cannot begin to count the times I have seen dragonflies on this trip, and I don't exaggerate when I say that when I have looked up from my bike to taken in the beauty of my surroundings (or to try to distract myself from frustration our physical exhaustion/pain), I have seen a dragonfly the majority of those times-- sometimes just one, sometimes a couple, but they are there. Lindsay would see them too, when I wouldn't. What is more is that I would see them flying with me, past me, at me, when I didn't think it would be possible to fly in the conditions, like rain, or wind. The glimpse of those dragonflies in the hardest parts of my trip dissolved my fears, my frustration, whatever bad thing I might being feeling, and replaced them with "I'll get through this, and it will be ok." I have been calmed by its presence, I could find strength to get through it. I remember fighting the 21 mph crossings the day after this revelation came to me, and I looked up and saw a dragonfly to my left, flying next to me for a moment. This may sound a bit peculiar, but I laughed, put my head back down, and said, out loud, "Some wind, huh Dad?" The dragonfly flew off. What is really notable here is that it wasn't fighting the wind, it was flying in it.

I'm finally beginning to fully understand the message that Rev. Susan Kittredge left in my father's eulogy, partially because I think I am finally ready to. Towards the end of her beautifully written tribute to my father's life, Susan directed her words to my mom, my sister, and myself: "You will begin to see his presence differently; he will not speak in words you know; he will be with you in other ways... He will cheer with you from the sidelines, sit with you in your quandaries, be present with you in your joys and in your sorrows. Know now in ways that we can only begin to understand, that he can go and still remain." I am realizing that when I get that stabbing reminder that he is "gone" when there is something that I just can't wait to tell him, that there is a good chance that he already knows.

So Dad, thank you for all that you were, and all that you are now. Thank you for helping me find who I really am. I am beyond proud to be your daughter, and to have the privilege of carrying on your legacy.

"A part of you had grown within me, and so you see, it's you and me together forever, never apart, maybe in distance, but never in heart." -- Anonymous

Day 49: "Re-entry Phase 1"

Shannon and Amber took me to a wonderful breakfast the next morning after dropping their son off at daycare. Shannon made me get extra food, and told me he would not be satisfied if I didn't. It was delicious, and I'm glad he encouraged it, as I usually can eat twice as much as the typical human being these days. After everything that they had already done, it was so nice of them to take me out to breakfast, not to mention that I'm fairly certain that it was the best breakfast I had in what seems eons.  Thank you Shannon and Amber, for everything!

In the wonderful package that my mom had sent, I found Ziploc bags upon Ziploc bags of snacks, granola bars, chocolate, licorice, apples, trail mix as well as some of Nate's fleeces to layer with as the days are getting cooler and it is getting harder to stay warm--it was like striking gold. Unfortunately, I had to pawn some off on Amber because I simply couldn't fit it all into my bags. And as I was all packed and ready to go, it was hard for me to thank them for all that they had done because I couldn't really find the words to convey it to them, and I could feel myself getting choked up, and it felt as though I just kind of ended up repeating myself to try to make that lump in my throat go away.

I left their lovely home to head towards Mansfield, OH, to meet my aunt and uncle that were travelling down from Michigan to visit it with me. What??? Being in a home and then hanging out with two very amazing family members within 48 hours?? It was really hard for me to grasp, and I was just on top of the world. I kind of felt like someone should pinch me.

It took forever to get out of the Columbus, and I am beginning to realize that it is a good idea to try to circumvent cities where possible (I didn't really have a choice today), as the extra distance could account for the same amount of extra time from the stopping and starting. I was able to spend some time on a bike path, where I passed and then started talking to two bikers, Ken and Ron. We eventually stopped for a few minutes and chatted, and then they invited to me to have coffee with them at a cafe that they frequent just up ahead. Normally, I probably would have accepted the offer, but I told them that I was in a rush to see my Aunt and Uncle, and really couldn't wait to get there. I went ahead, and after taking the wrong path, I ran into the men again. It was nice to meet them, both times.

Once I got out of the city, I was on some back roads and noticed that my back tire was soft. I stopped and borrowed someone's air compressor, but it simply wasn't doing the trick. The headwind was atrocious, and I just felt like my legs didn't want to take me anywhere. After I found a Subway about 45 miles in, I stopped at an auto garage to add air to my tire, and was hoping it would hold as I was not going to be near another town for quite some time as I put myself back into the hands of Google Maps. They took me on a road that was pretty much a patch work of awful pavement, and then onto gravel roads that consisted of the big pieces of rock, up a hill. The day was beautiful, and I was excited to see my family, but the roads still got the better of me and I really just wanted to scream.  I really had to try hard to keep it together.

I had originally wanted to make it Ashland, OH so I could get in extra mileage, but at the rate that I was going and the headwind I as facing, I didn't think that I would get to Ashland until 6ish, best case scenario. As my aunt and uncle were close to Mansfield (the town before) and not quite at Ashland, I decided that it was more important to spend time with them than to try to make it 16 extra miles.

My final stretch to Mansfield didn't go as smoothly as I would have liked. There was a detour on Route 42 (that would take me right to Lexington and then to Mansfield), and unfortunately, the reception I had was not enough to tell me where to go or even register where I was. I finally flagged down a woman and her daughter coming from the alternate route, and she gave me directions to bypass the area of construction by taking a dirt road that would eventually reconnect with it. It was really my only option at that time. Apparently there was construction a bridge ahead, and she thought that I would be fine to cross it, but I didn't want to go out of my way to find that I couldn't cross it, so I decided not to chance it.

The dirt road was well-packed and less gravelly, and reminded of the dirt roads that you find in Vermont before they have been grated. When I finally reached the main route again, it was late, and my uncle and I decided that for the purpose of time, it might be best that he met me in Lexington, a few miles south of Mansfield. On my way to meet them, I got stopped three times by police officers that were directing traffic on a one-way road. All of them started asking me questions as to why I was crazy enough to not only be biking through Ohio (which I don't get) but to be crazy enough to bike from San Fran. I also got held up because after they were done talking to me, they had to let the cars behind me go first as I obviously can't go as fast and the shoulder was obsolete due to construction.

Finally, I made my way to Aunt Marie and Uncle George, who were standing at the street corner waving and clapping as I pulled into the parking lot to meet them, and I was overwhelmed with excitement and happiness, and I could feel a knot starting to form in my throat... For the second time that day. I just couldn't believe that I was with them, and it just meant the world to me. They had driven down from Traverse City, Michigan, (which is no hop, skip, or jump) to meet and spend a night with me. As my Aunt had said, "I felt like it was about time that you just needed a family hug," and so they decided to drive 6.5 hours to give me one. It meant the world to me, and I once I received their hugs, it was clear to me that she was indeed correct, as realized how much I actually really needed one.... Or many.

Aunt Marie refers to our meeting and my visit the night before with Amber and Shannon as "Re-entry Phase 1;" it will be the first part of my transition back to my regular life. She and I are both anticipating that it won't be an easy one, after storming time on the bike and in solitude.  Out would have been hard to transition regardless of whether Lindsay was able to make it the while way or not.  My time in Rochester with my family and Lindsay she considers to be "Re-entry Phase 2," and then my arrival in Boston will begin "Phase 3."

We enjoyed a glass of wine in the motel after I showered, and Aunt Marie had spread out all of the protein bars, energy gels, and recovery powder that she had purchased from a local bike store. It was quite the spread!!!! I am so grateful for her kind gesture, and surely, it will get me to Boston, with some energy to spare! We went to a steakhouse about 20 minutes outside of town and enjoyed a delicious dinner, and it was so nice to catch up. Not only are they both incredibly generous people, but the two are some of the funniest people I know. We finished up the night trying to map out a route for the next day after they showed me pictures from their recent trip to Germany.

Like yesterday, I really can't find the words to describe the happiness that their visit evoked. I am so glad to have been able to share a part of this adventure with the two of them, and it was do nice to have the two of then face to face and tell me that I was almost there, and to keep pedaling.  It was the refresher I didn't know I needed, and that is the beauty about family and friends: they can pick you up when you don't even know you are down. George and Marie are not only two people that I love dearly, but their support throughout this journey, especially in the last nine years has been phenomenal.  They have always been there to support my mom, my sister, and I,  responding to our harder moments with love, laughter, an ear, insight, advice and so much more. They are the kind of people that bring out the best in you, the kind of people you would want as friends, and I'm lucky enough to call them family.

Yes, it was a wonderful visit...to say the least.

Day 48: A little taste of heaven

It was more than one hundred miles to London, OH, where I would meet my boyfriend's sister, Amber, and her husband, Shannon, and their son, Nevan, for the first time. I filled to the brim with excitement. Less exciting was that the whole day was forecasted for rain. As I was leaving the hotel, the clerk at the desk held the door open for me as he saw the kind of load that I had (it was feeling particularly heavy that morning, even though I had recovered from the blue cheese fiasco). He was surprised that I was headed out into the rain, and I told him that it wasn't necessarily going to be fun, but I had no choice. When I got outside I took a moment to take in the temperature and my surroundings, and I'm pretty sure I had a smile on my face.  It didn't reflect my enthusiasm (or lack there of) but the fact that I thought this was a big cruel joke.

Fort Mitchell, where I sought refuge the night before, was only a few miles away from Cincinnati. Unfortunately, I didn't get to see a "Welcome to Ohio" sign, but it may have been because I was trying to understand where the lady on Google Navigation was trying to take me and I totally missed it. There were a few times there that she didn't make a whole lot of sense, and we had some disagreements (yes, I do think of her as company sometimes). Cincinnati, as a city, was really nice as far as bigger cities go, and the suburbs that I went through to get out of the city were beautiful and well kept, ad I poised beautiful condos that over looked the river. The rain even started to subside a bit as I left Cincinnati and got on a bike path that took me the majority of the remaining miles to London.

The bike path itself was quite the treat. It is called the "Ohio to Erie Pathway" and I was able to follow it all the way to London (the only draw back is that there are no Subway's right on the path, so I had to leave the path to find one). I was away from the rushing traffic and canopy of gray clouds, and instead I was sheltered by the trees. Everything was green and lush, with hints of the changing colors to transition into fall. The fallen autumn leaves of red and gold blanketed parts of the path, along with pieces of broken branches and nuts. I saw plenty of deer, and cats, and many different birds, including Blue Jays. Besides the rushing wind, the melodies from the songbirds were the only thing I could hear if my headphone fell out, or if I stopped to soak in my soltitude in it's absolute and refuel.

The most common critter I saw were the squirrels and chipmunks, and the squirrels looked exceptionally plump. They would wait until the last second to race in front of me, and if I got to close, you could see them freeze and agonise over which way to go to get away from me. Many of them made the right choice, while others decided that the best way to ensure their safety was to run right in front of me. It is hard for me to admit this, but I did run one over, but I am pretty sure only partially, because I looked behind me after I heard and felt a big "clunk," and didn't see a dead squirrel. Nonetheless, I was horrified and felt extremely bad, and while I slowed down and tried to collect myself, I began to grow more concerned about my spokes (I'm sorry, that sounds cruel, but I really need my spokes to be in good condition so I can get to Boston), than I was for the well-being of that innocent squirrel. There, I said it.

I stopped at Subway 40 miles away from London, and I met some of the nicest people I had seen since Kansas. I was covered in dirt in this point and they were amazed that I was riding in the cold, rainy weather. When I answered their questions as to what I was doing, they were truly grateful for my stopping in and sharing the story with them, and for making this trek in general. It was really touching.

My mom, Linda (she truly is a gem), had sent me a package full of treats to the London, OH post office, and knowing that I would only be passing through London once and it was nearly 2:00 pm, I called to make sure that they would still be open. They closed at 4:30, but the supervisor said that should would be around until 5:00 pm. I also contacted Amber, Nate's sister, and let her know where I was, as well as how incredibly dirty and disgusting I was (picture attached, and please keep in mind that I had 3 more hours after this picture was taken to accumulate a significant more amount of dirt). Dirt had been caught in the water that was spraying up from the ground the whole day, and onto my legs and my bike. I think it is safe to say that I have never been this dirty on this trip, and naturally, I was meeting Amber for the first time. I truly had debris from the bike path everywhere: on my panniers, in my chain, on my brakes. I was most definitely a sight for sore eyes. I met a headwind that slowed me down significantly, and I realized that I would arrive shortly after 5, which I felt bad about for keeping both Amber, her family, and the lady at the post office waiting. I called the post office, and I was told that it was not a problem, she would be glad to wait, and I am so thankful for her kindness.

When I finally made it to the post office, the hugs waiting for me were absolutely priceless (although I was trying not to cover them in dirt). It was wonderful to meet them, and be around such wonderful and friendly people. Soon after my arrival, the ladies from the post office came out and gave me my package. It was so, so sweet of them to wait. One of the lady's father was an avid cyclist, and once she found out what I was doing, she ran to her car and came back with a donation, that she said was from the "London, OH Post Office." She also took a picture of her handing me the package. It was just so sweet.

Amber had come prepared with towels that I could clean off with and sit on so I didn't soil their truck. Shannon, Amber's husband, situated my bike in the back of his truck, (by himself, which means he is very strong) and we were off to their home. I got to sit next to their incredibly adorable son, who didn't quite know what to make at me for the majority of the car ride, and was probably quite content that I was engrossed in wonderful conversation. Shannon and I hosed off my bike when we got to their house, (he handed me the hose, which resulted in me spraying him with water and dirt by mistake).

I honestly can't find the words to express how much meant to be welcomed into their home, especially after Shannon had just lost his mother a few days before. And, for the first time in almost two months, I ate a delicious home cooked dinner around a table, in a real home. I showered in a shower full of kids toys and big bottles of shampoos and soaps. I did laundry. I sat on one of the world's most comfortable sofas and ate Ben and Jerry's (Amber got four different kinds) in a porcelain bowl with a metal spoon. And in doing all of this, I was surrounded by wonderful company, which really made everything else even better, and so special.  It is really the people who make the home.  It was so nice spending time with and getting to know Amber and her husband, they are both just kind, lovely, and incredibly generous people. I also enjoyed being able to spend time with their son, who was racing around and showing me how he could ride his trike around their house (the kid has got some skills, I can't lie). It is amazing how kids can really bring so much joy and laughter with their innocence and spontaneity.

At one point, Shannon and I were looking at possible routes for the next day, and he pointed out that I was in central Ohio, and I was kind of surprised about that. I honestly couldn't believe that I was already there. Seeing that I was trying to absorb this, Shannon chuckled as he zoomed out of the map, and, pointing to San Francisco, said "Look, this is where you started, all the way over here." It was a first time since Lindsay had left that I had taken a moment to look and actually take note of the progress; of how far I had actually come. And honestly, I just couldn't really believe it. More over, I couldn't believe that I was so close to Rochester, to Boston, to the end. It was a sobering reality check, to say that least, I'm glad that they were there so I knew that I wasn't really loosing it.

That night, as I was falling asleep, their cat, Valentino joined me, just when I thought things really couldn't get any better, (I am a cat lover). Alright, I was officially in heaven.