Day 39: to the Ozarks

At breakfast in Marshfield, I was enjoying as much food as I could to prepare for a rather long day of riding through the "lovely" hills of Missouri. I had the place to myself for a while, until a young girl, who looked around high school age, and her younger brother came down. The girl didn't look too thrilled when she sat down, as if she had done this before. Her mother, dressed in some sort of uniform came in to say goodbye to her. Afterwards, I decided to be nosy and ask if they were passing through and visiting someone (out was really me wanting to chat with someone:With very little expression, she told me that their house flooded, and they had been staying in the motel for 3 months. She said that they didn't think that the repairs would be finished until December or January. That was the last thing I had expected to hear. It didn't seem as though she wanted to talk about out so I left it alone. It was extremely hard for me to sit there and imagine what it would be in her situation, to be completely uprooted from her home. My thoughts traced back to the conversation that I had with Dwight, (the man that was convinced that I should be a volleyball player). We were talking about flooding in Missouri, and I stopped him to ask him what it was like to live in a place where you are completely at the mercy of Mother Nature, when there are several times during a year when storm could blow through town that could destroy your homes, even your family. He said that he has lost people in storms, and that it is devastating, but it is part of life, something that they know it might happen. I asked him if he would ever think of living some place else, if he would give up what he had now to move to live where there are less natural disasters. He had slight smirk on his face as he should shook his head no. "You just have to be ok with knowing that it could happen. And then you just deal with it." I am beginning to see that society allows very little time for people to sit back and really contemplate what it would be like to actually walk a day in somebody else's shoes, and I think it can be used as a sobering reality check. It is a way to sit back and see all of the goodness in your life, what you do have instead of what you don't, to recognize your hardships, but count your blessings at the same time. The house I grew up on is still standing. My home in Burlington is safe and sound, and I have a place to go back to. And once again, I find that my bike seat won't really feel as bad as I thought it would.

My tire that I had changed the day before was a little soft, so I put some air in it and I was on my way. Oh, it was a long morning. I did learn, and felt pretty darn proud to realize this "on my own" (I was later informed that I had already been told to do this) that if I stopped or got off my bike, the dogs would relent. Sometimes they would still bark, or watch me longingly, wanting me to start pedaling again, and sometimes they would put their tails between their legs and run back to the lawn.

I stopped to get lunch in a very small town that consisted only of a country store. I was locking up my bike, and the owner came out and told me that there was no absolutely no one around that would steal my bike; they simply wouldn't want to. I walked inside, and there was a man sitting down who was fairly overweight. He grabbed his belly and told me "You think I am gonna try and take that thing? I would break it." He cracked quite a few jokes, and had no problem incorporating politics into them. The store itself was chaos. There were boxes all over the place, and the shelves had no rhyme or reason to them. I ate some pizza, and when started getting hungry at the end of the slice, the owner was laughing at me and have me another. He said that he sees a lot of bicyclists. He just recently saw two families that had two eight year olds on tandems. I could not imagine riding a tandem, and especially on the hills. I also could not imagine doing this when i was 8. He also told me that he saw a guy come through on a unicycle. No thank you. I have hard enough time balancing with panniers. He told me that the real fun would start tomorrow for me, that the climbs that I was doing today was nothing compared to what I would see tomorrow. Soooo exciting. It was 1:00 pm. My muscles were already fatigued, and I still had another 30 miles for the day. I really shouldn't even be thinking about what is in store for me tomorrow, because I had to climb the hills today to get to the ones tomorrow.

Unfortunately there are no shoulders in Missouri. To make matters worse, the drivers take as much advantage of the roller coaster ride as the bikers do, and whip through the hills and around the corners. Honestly, there are times when the shoulders are not advantageous, as all of the broken glass, stones, pebbles, and tire rubber collect in the shoulder, which doesn't make for smooth riding. That is also where most of the roadkill is found. Sounds like pristine riding conditions, right?? Not so much. When there are rumble strips on the white line, I honestly find myself riding on the left side of them, especially down hills, because I would much rather have to cut over the rumble strips on the occasion that two big trucks are trying to get by, than catapult over the dead armadillo in the middle of the shoulder because I have no where to go,or cross the rumble strip from the left and then I loose control in and have a chance of going into traffic.

Anyway, I was making my way up one of Missouri's spectacular straight up and down hills. There was a blind curve, and the hill seemed like it went on forever, and it was steep. I was creeping my way up, minding my own business, and I heard that a tractor trailer was behind me and was in a low gear. The hill was too steep for him to quickly pass and then get back over to the right lane, and the corner was far too sharp. So, he patiently waited. If there had been a shoulder, I would have been in it, but the white line immediately met long grass on it's right side. There was a small driveway ahead, and I tried to pedal as fast as possible so I could pull off and let the poor guy go past me. As I did so, there was a lady behind two cars behind them that started to incessantly honk her horn, and as she was passing me, leaned over her passenger and yelled at the top of her lungs: "Get the f*&$ off the road." After 70 miles of riding, it took everything I had to remain calm and collected, even though I was absolutely steaming on the inside. Honestly I would have been furious if my total mileage for the day was 2 miles. Not only was she going around a blind curve sticking trying to stick her neck out of the window to yell this to me, but I HAD NOWHERE TO GO. I'm pretty sure she hasn't been on a bicycle since she was 7. More importantly, it comes down to a concept called "sharing" the road. I understand why drivers get angry when cyclists ride three in a row. Yes. That is annoying, and they should move into single file when there is a car behind them. The respect should be reciprocated to the bikers, and this doesn't mean barrelling past them at 60 mph and moving over six inches. It is just not safe. Honking at a cyclist, alone, is not safe. It can be very startling. Most likely I can't move over, especially when I have bags that add at least another foot to my width, and honestly, if it bothers somebody that much to slow down, move over, and be "inconvenienced" (I use that very loosely), for 30 seconds of their entire day, then maybe they are the ones who should get off the road... and reassess somethings.  Unless their wife is in labor or there is something medically wrong with them, those 30 seconds (or 3 minutes in the trucker's case) are not really going to affect their life.... They will still get to where they are going.

I ended the day in Summersville with 90 miles under my belt. I couldn't help but worry about the hills the next day, after everybody that I had met in Missouri told me that this part was going to be the worse. The elevation map was absolutely daunting, and worse than the one today that is attached below. It is hard to get prepared for something that you really have very little idea of what it is going to be like. Elevation maps are helpful, but they are not always accurate, as Lindsay and I have learned the hard way. All you can really do is know that you will wake up, get your stuff together, and no matter how bad it is, you will give it all you have, and do everything you can to make it through; do the best that you can do. It reminds me of what Steve used to say towards the end of his illness, when Cindy or I would ask him how he was doing. Even when he was struggling the most and it was hard for him to communicate, he would always answer "It's as good as it can be."

Day 38: the only thing flat in Missouri is my tire

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.

Day 37:

It was NOT hard getting out of bed to run down stairs and eat a fresh breakfast... Fresh eggs, (no egg patties) juice, fresh fruit, bacon, toast... made by someone who cared. When I entered the kitchen, Janice was standing there, with coffee made, and a lovely setting for one at the counter. I might as well have been a little girl in a candy store.

It was really nice to be able to sit and chat with Janice, and her husband who later joined us. Her husband had visited Vermont before and sold a Morgan horse there, but couldn't remember the name of the town. They also informed me that the building was a former funeral home, after I told them about our haunted house situation. And then things started to make sense... (I tried to remain calm in my reaction, and then realized that no one actually died here). Funeral homes tend to be one of the nicer buildings in town. The two of them had done a lot of remodeling, as the first floor used to be totally open. But the old stove that had been installed when the house was built in 1907 was still there.  They also had old call bells from the kitchen to the rooms.  It was obvious that they liked antiques, as pretty much every room was filled with them, namely chairs, tables, and lamps.

After I gathered my things and was set to depart, I said my thank yous and goodbye's, and then got talked into having some watermelon. I really couldn't pass it up, mainly because it was a watermelon that I had never had before, called Star and Moon watermelon (characterized by small white circles on the dark green melon, the bigger circles are the moons). It is not as sweet as the "typical" watermelon  but it is quite delicious.

Pittsburg was the last town in Kansas, and I stopped to stretch my ultra tight muscles. And then, I had about four miles until Missouri!!!! Ohhhh how exciting! Unfortunately, there was a swamp around the sign, so it was very difficult to do many fun jumps/tricks. I tried very hard not to soak my shoes, but I guess I wasn't that careful. It was very difficult for me to get my camera to stay in any position that wouldn't really fall, or get a good a photo. Finally, a wonderful woman from Girard stopped to see if I needed any help. She was 40, and had just completed a half ironman (super impressive), and she had a change jar at home that she is using to fund a bike trip across the country. I think she was slightly relieved when I told her that the only thing that I really need help with was taking a photo. I tried to do a cartwheel for her, but I don't think she realized how badly I am at cartwheels, and it doesn't help that my muscles are so tight. It was a pitiful attempt, as it is probably obvious from the photograph below. I am so glad she stopped to help though.  It was really sweet of her.

It is funny that I thought that Kansas was hilly. It was nothing compared to what Missouri had in store for me. I got to Golden City to have lunch around 2:00 pm, and I thought that the hills were pretty bad. I had the world's best blackberry pie and ice cream. I couldn't help but keep saying "This is the best pie ever. Oh my gosh," repeatedly, without even thinking that it is probably not something that people really need poured want to hear. Luckily, one of the owners in the booth next to me was one of the owners, and she was thrilled with my reaction, and we had a lovely conversation afterwards, that eventually included two full booths of people. Pie is such a great ice breaker.

I had another 30 miles until Everton, where i was trying to get a hold of cycling lodging off route. There weren't very many options other than that for miles. The towns are small, and usually have an abandoned building or two. When i was talking with the ladies in the cafe after i inhaled the pie, they shook their head when I asked them about camping.

The hills were really picking up, and they were steep, were very much like a rollercoaster. They look straight up and down, and when i got to the to of one i laughed in disbelief about the ones before me. Sometimes they look like they are stair steps... Each one is higher, and steeper.  Sad part is, I hadn't even gotten to the Ozark Mountain Range yet. Three dogs shook me up a bit. They got very close to me and i wasted a whole bottle of water trying to scare them with it, but they had surrounded me so it did nothing! I sped through an intersection and they finally relented, but my legs were shaking when i was far enough away from them to stop and collect myself. Missouri's roads are exceptionally odd. Roads are numbered but mainly lettered, such as: turn right at junction A E, and then pick up MM. There doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason for this naming system, and I'm not sure why some are numbered and others are not... I thought because they were county our state roads, but that doesn't always hold up. As you can see, the lettering system is all over the place. I have spent hours trying to decipher this from map to map (yes, it is as exhilarating as it seems, but i need something to amuse myself with!) I just can't crack the code.

Eight miles away, I finally got a hold of the owners of Running Spring Farm, a Pheasant Hunting Reserve farm outside of Everton (very small town, population of 318) that hosts bicyclists. (www.runningspringsfarm.com it is a really neat place). Just in time, too, as the storm clouds were looming and those hills were tough and my legs were screaming. On my way there, besides the mushed Amardillos that decorate the road here in Missouri and account for the majority of the road kill here, (as far as odor goes for road kill, they are pretty discreet and there is not much smell), i saw a scorpion. At first I thought it was a crayfish (it had been a long day, give me a break), and then at the last second realized that it was actually a scorpion, and a crayfish wouldn't make sense. I'm pretty sure i yelped and got as far away from it as possible as fast as i could. Don't worry though, because a few miles later, when I saw the tarantula in the middle of the road that was the, size of my palm, I had no problem knowing what it was and almost fell off my bike.  I have goosebumps just thinking about it.

The farm was gorgeous and in fields miles from any roads, and i was greeted at the end of the driveway by the sound of crickets.  Bob, the owner of the farm took me to a large building next to his house with a covered patio with table, chairs, and a grill.  He put his hand on the door and paused, and looked back at me and said: "now, this is going to be the best place you have stayed so far." It was pretty fabulous, I must say.  There was a full kitchen, with a stove, and a coffee maker and microwave, bathroom, camo sofas and lazy boys.  It was an awesome lodge, and i was pretty much in heaven (takes very little these days). There was hunting gear for sale,  books, pheasant, boar and deer taxidermy.  I had the place all to myself.  I cooked up some dehydrated buffalo chicken to put in my tortillas, got my fig newtons and went outside to enjoy the serenity of the quiet landscape around me.  While i was eating, 10-15 hummingbirds were swarming the feeder about 5 feet away from me,.and you could almost feel the air vibrate with their humming.  It was so cool. I stretched, relaxed. Drank a beer (first one was free, and then 2 bucks a piece after that.. Everything was on the honor system, and there was a jar on the fridge to put money in).  I had a wonderful nights sleep ($20 if you sleep in a sleeping on the bed.. What a steel!)  It was a sanctuary. 

I had thanked Bob as he was leaving for having such a wonderful place for cyclists.  He laughed and said " well, it is meant to be an oasis for you crazy people on your bicycles."  I agree with him on both accounts: some days I think you have to be crazy I'm order to do this..

Day 36: I'm sorry, Kansas, but we are over

I woke up full of energy, excited that this would be my last battle with Kansas. The weather forecasted low winds and chill temperature, and by now I really should have known that it was just too good to be true: I wasn't going to get off that easily.

I looked out the window. Even though it was still dark, I could see that it was overcast and misting, offff course. I walked to the gas station to grab coffee, made some ramen, and indulged in a protein bar. I totally took my time, as the morning forecast said that the sun would come or in the next hour and a half. I'm not a wuss; I can ride in the rain, let alone mist. But when it is cold, as I have said, the cold rain chills me to the bone. I had a wonderful conversation with my Aunt, and then, bundled up in long Spandex and 4 layers, I faced reality.

It is really a good thing that I didn't wait for the clouds to disappear, because I wouldn't have left the hotel that day. It took less than 5 miles to get covered in dirt from the spray off the road: my shoes, pants, panniers, gear, water bottle. Everything was damp. At this point, I was on to the little game that Kansas was playing, and it was not cute. That being said, the winds were only 5-10 mph. I'll take mist and rain any day.

I stopped at a store off the main road to try to warm up with coffee. The clerk took out a 1.5 inch spiral notebook that was the store's cyclist log. It was a wonderful feeling to be able to put my name down with the other thousands of cyclists who have made this trip--A sense of pride.

I really had quite the unintended leisurely morning. There were many meadows along many hills, and really felt as though I was still mostly climbing. I chomped on power bars every 15 - 20 miles until I got to Chanute, 62 miles in, and took full advantage of the fact that Subway was one of the first signs of "actual town" that I saw. I rejoiced.

There was nowhere to lock my bike, so I pleaded with a young employee to let me being it inside as "my life as I know it now is on my bike." When I went up to order, the two girls who would make my sandwich started asking me questions: what time did I get up in the morning, where I would stay, etc. They were both amazed that I could be motivated everyday to get up and bike miles upon miles, all day, everyday. And before I answered that question, I had to really think about giving them an honest, yet positive answer. In reality, the majority of the mornings, and especially now that Lindsay is no longer physically with me, it is hard to get out of bed and climb on my bicycle, especially when my muscles hurt to even change position in bed. Sometimes the thought of the seat hurts my butt, and it is daunting to know how stiff and in pain I will be in toward the end of my ride, seven top nine hours away. However, here I am in Kansas, a long way from home, but a long way from where we started, and each day, I am getting stronger, and it helps the next. Each day is an opportunity to chip away at the remaining mileage, little by little, pedal by pedal. It helps that I have loved ones I miss at home, and Lindsay in Rochester, but the biggest motivating factor is to remember why I am here, why we started this journey, and what we are fighting for. So, I get on the bike. Just start it, the rest will follow: It will hurt at first, but I'll get into a rhythm, my muscles loosen, I'll fall back into contentment as I seek out that day's adventure. I try to ignore anything small and negative that my body is telling me or make frequent small adjustments to quiet myself. After all, my fight is nothing compared to the fight that others are facing everyday. I have to put it in perspective: all i really have to do is get on a bike, fall into an adventure, and do something I love... to win a greater battle: brain cancer. As for the pains and the frustrations along the way, I have to keep telling myself that they are only temporary. I was listening to a Radiolab podcast today and their guest they were interviewing made a comment about being an athlete and getting the job done, and our is very applicable to our journey: "we have to confuse ourselves into believing that no matter what's wrong with you or what you are dealing with is not going to be a factor to what you are trying to accomplish."

So, back to the lovely Subway girls... I told them it helps if you love what you to, but when you are doing it for something you are passionate about.  It is worth the aches and pains, and sometimes when you look back, it is not those aches and pains that you actually remember.

As I was eating, I sort of chuckled to myself. One of the girls was saying she couldn't imagine doing that. She wouldn't want to get on a bike. When she said that, I wanted to tell her that Lindsay and I didn't even own bikes when we started this. The Aunt that I had been talking to previously in the morning had given me a necklace at Christmas in support of the trip. The necklace is about a 1 inch square, with two metal plates. The top one has a cut out of a tree. The bottom plate has a quote that says: "Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it." -- Goethe . And that is how this journey began: We believed, even dream,  if you will, that we could do it. So, we decided to do it, to jump in, albeit naively, but we started the process, made a commitment, and tried to dismiss our fears. Now, I am here in Kansas, about to cross into Missouri tomorrow. Lindsay and I just had the time of our lives, and we have raised $21,000. That "bold" decision was hands down one of the best decisions I can ever remember making.

Girard was 45 miles away at that point. So I rallied up my full stomach, restocked my supply of power bars, and I was on my way. I was supposed to make a left hand turn to ride towards Neal after seven miles, but the road was closed. Everything in Kansas is in a grid system. All of the roads (even minor dirt roads leading to a farm) are spaced one mile apart. My map showed that I had five roads further South until I hit K-47, which would bring me right to Girard... So convenient-- except when the road turned to an ungrated, muddy road, ridden with pot holes. It was like I was going over a big rumble strip. The mud would suck my tires into it, making it extremely hard to go anywhere, and I had to be very careful to avoid it. And then the dogs came to give me a good chase. It is really hard sprinting away when you are trying to dodge potholes and be slowed down by mud. They relented, I'm not sure why, but I was thankful. Being chased by dogs really shakes me up, because they can get really close to me. I don't think that they actually want to attack me, but that it is more instinctual; they need to chase.

107 miles later, I made it to Girard. The next town over, Pittsburg, was only 15 miles away, and I had really wanted to make it there, but it was too late, and I was starving. I stayed at a local Bed and Breakfast. It was a beautiful home, very old, and furnished with antiques. It stood out from the rest of the buildings of the small town, that were falling down or abandoned. The owners were very sweet and hospitable. I could come and go as I pleased, I had an incredible bed, I put my sopping wet clothes in the drier, and she also recognized that I was doing this for charity. Best of all, I went to sleep knowing that not only would I be out of Kansas in the morning, but I would have a home cooked meal to start the day.... A Home. Cooked. Meal.....

Day 35: the man at the motel

For some odd, and incredibly annoying, reason, I just can't fall asleep on the nights of Recovery Days, so getting up this morning was almost near impossible. My intentions were to get up early, get organized, and head down to to breakfast by 6 and get on the road as early as possible and go as far as possible.... Instead, i waited to get out of bed until 6:30 and then took a 15 minute nap after breakfast. I realized at breakfast that it was drizzling out a bit and still a bit cold, so it was easy for me to find things to procrastinate with, like the map. About 100 miles away, there was a small town with few services but there was biker only camping at the church. I called to see if I would be able to stay there if i could make it that far. The Pastor was a riot. He owned the store in town and lived at the Parrish. With a thick mid Western accent, he told me he a dog that was really nice and there was a sheep that followed the dog around, but "that darn sheep, it has to stop eating the dog food because it is getting way too fat and i simply can't afford his habit anymore." I was immediately intrigued, and it was probably the only motivating factor of why i would want to make it to that town today, because my body was sluggish and needed a kick.

So i rolled out at around 9:00, completely bundled up and faced the headwinds (technically they were from the NE, but it felt more like East to me... Very little force from my left (North) side). It only took me a few miles to take off my fleece, but I wore a long sleeve shirt and my windbreaker for the rest of the day... It was very chilly! I would like to take a moment and talk about my windbreaker. The color of this jacket is the only thing that Lindsay and i disagreed on over the month that we were together, and I say that with certainty. I believe it is red, but she believes otherwise, and i was almost speechless when she told me: "i don't take you for a hot pink kind of girl, but I like that jacket." I almost had no idea what she was taking about at first because i thought it was clearly red. Then she started to point out things around us that were red and compare them, for example: "that truck is red, it doesn't match your jacket because the truck is not hot  pink." It was never really resolved. The other thing is that it had a "butt flap" that you sit on so the water spraying from the road/water from your tires doesn't make you shorts wet.... (it is an awful situation when that happens... Soggy shorts aren't fun shorts). Well, i as we pulled out of the gas station where i first put it on (right outside of Cedar City) all i could hear was Lindsay laughing. "i just can't take you seriously right now because it looks like you are wearing a hot pink leotard with a built in diaper." She lost it. She lost it every time I put it on, even after the 1st hail storm the night we stayed in the shower. So, in Lindsay's honor I didn't tuck the flap in today (even though it wasn't raining) and took a picture for her this morning, which i am including in tonight's blog.

At mile 6, I saw a dog wandering in the middle of the road, and a good sized one. Immediately, i was on defense mode after heading all of the horror stories about dogs chasing bikers, and getting chased by my first one the other day... And this one would have an advantage of starting from the road and not a lawn. I stopped my bike, and we had a stare down. I was secretly hoping that a car would come my way and i could use it as a diversion as the dog would be too afraid of the car to chase me. Naturally, all of the cars went in the opposite direction, or turned. I finally decided that i couldn't wait there all day (even though it had only been a few minutes), and decided to slowly pass him. We stared at each other as i crept by, and then free, took off, feeling extremely witty (even though i had nothing to do with the fact that the dog didn't feel like chasing me)

So Kansas doesn't stay flat. And to be honest, much of the day was spent wondering it was possible that I was going lower in elevation, but these "so called" rolling hills were only rolling up! I felt like i was tackling hills for much of the day... because the headwind just wasn't enough (only about 15 mph today, actually, not too too bad). The roads were horrendous, very rough and gravely. I was tired and frustrated, so i concentrated on my music and some podcasts, which I really love (for example, i leaned all about flesh eating bacteria today on "how stuff works") I also loved looking at the changing colors of the prairies. There were so many different shades of greens and yellows, and even blues and purples from the clouds.

Even more satisfying is that the cows had large pastures to roam that were rich in grass. Also, apparently I am a Cow Whisperer. Usually as I ride by a herd of cows the majority of them stop eating and look up and stare at me. Usually, i stare back or moo at them to try top elicit a response (never really works). Typically, the cows chewing the cud would stay put. But today, I was riding along a quiet road, and as i approached, all of the cows stood up and started walking towards me and huddled up to the fence. I know they probably wanted food, but i felt pretty cool at the time, not gonna lie... Like they could sense how much i detest the feeding farmers.  (the only thing i had to offer them, ironically, is beef ravioli)

I stopped for lunch in a small town hoping that i could grab some coffee or a warm meal, but there was nothing available. It is hard to sit outside and eat, even if i am bundled up, because my sweat dries and and the cool air is quick to chill me, so it is best to keep moving. I don't have much insulation these days, so if i wait too long, I get to the point of no return and can't warm again. I caught a bit of a tailwind on beautiful country roads with fields of beautiful horses. What majestic creatures  they are. I have had had quite the itch to ride one since starting this adventure, and would often give subliminal messages to Lindsay about going on trail rides in Utah (we had no place for our bikes, and were kind of on a time crunch). I feel like my attraction to riding horses is similar to my love of cycling. The feeling of speeding through the air, of freedom, of the sudden and beautiful connection with the world around you as you move air and become part of the wind. It is a moment when the rest of your life stops, and you can just be. I imagine you get that same rush while racing on a horse...

I saw some alpaca, and a deer farm. It was a great change of scenery from all of the cows, i must say, ( i really don't like the idea of captive deer, although a venison burger may have popped into my head at some point within the vicinity of the farm, i
cant lie).

I was just exhausted, and felt and thought i could just fall asleep as i was riding. The hills and the wind just wore me out, so, i called it quits in Eureka, Kansas, with 74 miles for the day, at the Carriage House motel.  I walked into the office and was grated by am elderly gentlemen and his two small dogs who were trying to bark as ferociously as a small poodle -like dog can. Finally, the man just grabbed the dog's head when it wouldn't stop baking and said to it "don't you know I am trying to listen and can't hear a thing when you are barking? Now be quiet." The man was tall, wearing black sweatpants and a worn cream colored sweater. You could tell that his health wasn't the greatest with his large belly, swollen arms, and a jaw that moved as though he had Parkinson's between his words. He was very excited to have me come in.

As I was filling out my information in this very old, un-modernized office with paperwork scattered, and bulky, load appliances, I started asking him about where to get food. There were a few places, and he also decided to add that a lot of bikers camp in the city park. I thanked him, but told him that it was hard being a young female travelling alone by bike, and that i was trying not to camp unless i had to in some of these towns. He nodded his head in understanding and then his eyes lit up as he said, "well my daughter, she ran track and always insisted running on doing her workouts at night- it drove me crazy. She was a good lookin' girl, so i just drove my car along as she ran. Couldn't bear the thought of anything bad happening to her." And then he paused, and asked "what does your father think about you doing this alone?" And after i got over the stab in my chest of wishing i could hear my dad actually say it, i said "i think he would absolutely love what i was doing... Maybe not alone, but he would think it was pretty great," and I told him about why i was standing in front of him, that it was my dad that brought me here. i went right back into asking him about his daughter. The twinkle in his eye quickly returned, and he started showing pictures of his grandkids and his daughter and told me all about them. And then i noticed his eyes were watering, "all i know is that i miss her." And as he looked up I could see a tear work itself out of the corner of his eye. He hadn't seen her in 5 years. It broke my heart.  We both had something in common, it seemed: we both had a void in our hearts.

He was a truck driver for most of his adult life. He said the trucks he used to drive had very little steering ability, and he would have to call the sheriff's office in certain towns so they could stop traffic so he could make a turn. He said his max speed was about 48 mph. He got pulled over once for going to slow because the wind was so strong it was slowed his truck. One time he was making his standard route from Seattle (he didn't say where he was going). "Now normally I could get there and back on one tank of fuel, but that day it took me a full tank just to get down there because the wind was so strong that my engine had to work twice as hard." Now, this was incredible to me but it is a great way for me to portray how taxing the wind is-even on a tractor trailer.  So you can imagine that the amount of extra effort you have to put forth to bike in strong winds is great. It is easier to imagine of how much extra food one might need to eat to have the energy to combat these brutal winds, if the truck needed twice as much fuel.

I was cold, exhausted, and hungry, but we continued our conversation.  i could tell he was lonely, and i kind of just let him talk and go from one story to another. I loved it.  We talked for an hour, as he explained instances in the wind, the snow, telling me  about Kansas. It was a reprieve for me after being on my bike all day in the countryside with no one else around, and i think it was a reprieve for him as well: he had someone that he could share these stories with.  It was if it brought him back to early, happier moments of his life, and his partially toothless, ear to ear grin was proof of it.  I felt privileged being the recipient of those stories, of being invited into his past, hearing and seeing his vulnerabilities.  Storytelling is an important part of life.  And while sometimes it is healing to be the teller, it can also be healing to be the listener, and your world gets a little bigger, a little richer.

Day 33 and 34: green is a beautiful color

Getting up was not an easy task. I forced my sore legs to breakfast. Thank god there was a guy that kept burping to make the "defrost your own pancakes and sausage" so much easier to get down. Getting on my bike was some what painful, and it took me a bit to warm up, but once I did, I felt the rush of excitement to be back on my bike. (For some reason this made me think of a morning when Lindsay and I got on our bikes for the first time that morning at a gas station, after enjoying an ice cream sandwich, and as we were weaving through people and cars to get out of the parking lot, all we could say was "Oh!" "Owww" "Ugh" "Holy crap" "Ouch", and people just stopped and starred, with blank faces, in wonderment.)

The wind was a lovely crosswind, nothing like the day before. It was almost like a nice breeze. The sun shared the sky with the clouds, and I appreciated not having it beating on my shoulders. The morning was just absolutely brilliant. Not to mention that I went through a National Wildlife Reserve, which meant fields that were green, decorated with bright yellow flowers and trees that were lush. Birds danced, crickets sang, and the dragonflies and butterflies joined me periodically. There was a feeling of life in the air and I loved it, and joined right in. I am not sure if I was still riding on the exhilaration of knowing that I had pushed through the wind yesterday, or if it was just brought out from by the fact that I was no longer looking at feeding farms or brown land. I even started singing out loud to songs I was listening to, which is easily as hard as cursing, crying, or laughing on a bike, but it is fairly amusing, even when you are alone (but, then again I am pretty easily amused). I also hit mile 2000 at noon, which I was thrilled about, as it seems hard to believe that we could have accomplished 2000 miles in 27 riding days. My thoughts easily slipped back to hitting the 1000 mile mark in Utah with Lindsay, and yelling our excitement in the canyon, and hearing it echo. (attacked is a picture of Lindsay, overwhelmed with excitement (she is not on the phone even though it may look.like that)) I remember thinking then that it was going to be a long way to 2000, and it was fun to think of where we would be and how exciting it was when we got there. But it really wasn't a long way. It just flew by. Now, at 2000 miles, I am thinking, man, this is awesome, but I'm still a long way home, (well, from Rochester first, at least).

I had one of the best sandwiches I have had in a while at a local pizza place in Nickerson, about 60 miles into my day,.at a local pizza place recommended to me by one of the locals (food is definitely something you do trust the locals on). It was perfectly toasted, with salami and fresh tomatoes. (sorry, Subway) After lunch, the sun took over with a vengeance, heating the air to about 96 degrees. I was flying along at 17 mph at some points--it was lovely, and a far cry from the day before--but I was sweating profusely, and the water I had from the pizza place was quickly warming up. I went a mile off track and got some ice water in Buhler, which really got me through the last 32 miles. By mile 90, the typical aches and pains of being on a bike all day were creeping up to me. The wind started to pick up just as I was supposed to head into another headwind for 5 miles. Compared to yesterday, this was nothing. It was more mental than anything. If I stopped, my body was sore and slow to get back to a even cadence when I got going again. Nine miles outside of Newton, the only choice I had was to keep going, but everything hurt: my toes, my feet, my hands, my arms, my abs, my butts, my legs, so I constantly had to readjust my body position while fighting the wind. It is not bad when you know it is merely temporary.

I was done when I got to Newton. You could see it on my face, I'm sure. I went West instead of East, and had to turn around. I couldn't find anything, so when I finally got to the hotel, I almost fell trying to get off and stood at the counter chomping on Boston Baked Beans while I was trying to see what the lady could do for me. I was completely suckered in by the breakfast, and by the fact that there was a steakhouse right next door and I would receive a 10% coupon. (Yes, food is really at the heart of a lot of my decision making this days... funny how things work). And after I put my few prized possessions in my room I didn't shower, but walked right over to the steakhouse, with salt all over my face, my arms. My clothes were filthy. My legs were covered in dirt and bike grease. My shoulders had melted sunscreen running down them with plenty of little black clusterflies that drowned in my sweat along the way (wouldn't you want to serve me, too?). Ending at 112 miles for the day, my third century in five days, I just didn't care that much. I just needed (wanted) food, and then a shower.

Later on, I was using the lobby computer and noticed that the weather was going to consist of rain and thunderstorms (which are very much needed here) with 19 mph headwinds. I had to make the tough decision of riding hours upon hours in the rain with rain getting pelted in my face by the wind, or taking a day to recover after my 450 miles in five days. I was leaning towards recovery. I ended up chatting with a lovely couple that are staying here until their house closes on October 8th in Northern Kansas. They are in the restaurant business, and have an adorable four and a half year old, and have moved four times in the last five years. They know a lot of people in the Ohio and Indiana region that may be able to help, and we exchanged contact information. I stayed up until 11:30 chatting with them, and it was just so wonderful. They are really nice people. This morning at breakfast, the husband kept offering me the keys to one of his cars in case I needed to get things done during the day after telling him i was staying. I also got to play with his son a bit, which was so much fun. They were going up to check on their home outside of town and look at schools for their son, but we briefly set up tentative plans for dinner (which I don't think we will make).

So, this morning I took a lovely recovery day. It was a beautiful rainy day. I did much needed laundry, checked out their gym, went into the sauna, took a nap, ate, laid in bed, ate. I did go outside at one point and was immediately glad that I stayed indoors today. It was so cold and bitter.

I have also spent a lot of the day blogging on the guest computer. I started talking with a man who looked like he wanted to use it, but as I gathered my things, the conversation just kept on going. He was an extremely intelligent, extremely nice guy who had just come from an interview for a lead engineering position . He was telling me about his previous jobs, and his positive attitude was most definitely contagious. He said he could have sued his last employer, a multi-billion dollar company, and his friends were all urging him to do so. "I just don't see the point in fighting that fight. I might win a million dollars in 10 years, but I will be 10 years older. I would rather be spending that time trying raising the bar and achieving goals in my life, getting further that way, making it count. I had an awful divorce, and I had to make that fight....But this is something that I can choose not to fight and I would rather be looking at from my rear view mirror. Life isn't about fighting or money, it is about happiness, love, children, and family."

I told him that I would have hired him, and that he should email me when he hears about the job. He smiled, got up, gave me a huge hug, and said joyfully "Wow, this is great: a new friend." And as I walked away, I realized that this new chapter of my journey is not solely solitude, (and introspection) but rather the people I will meet. There are wonderful people, everywhere. And when you are solo, in a foreign place, if you open yourself up to those people, they can make all of the difference, and you can learn many interesting things. More importantly, there is no such thing as too many friends.

Day 32: "you have my mercy"

Fueling up with ramen and lovely protein bar for breakfast, I was ready to hit the road. My goal for the day was around 100 miles, as I had taken it "easy" the day before, (relatively easy, that is). Although I left early, it did not take long for the sun to warm up and unleash it's dry heat on me. The wind was far stronger than the day before, with 28 mph crosswinds. Leaning into the wind took a little bit more effort, and as I was being beaten up by the wind. Sunglasses are a must for these kinds of conditions, even if it is cloudy (which it definitely wasn't), as the dry air will dry your eyes right out, and the dust easily finds it's way in.

I stopped midway for a snack and to refill my water bottle with water from the three liter jug. My water got caught with the wind, my cap fell, and got quickly whisked across the road. Even standing, with my bike propped up against me was difficult, as it felt as though I would be pushed over. Think about the worst winds you have ever driven through on the highway, you loose speed as you try to maintain control of your vehicle. This is the same for riding a bike, except you only need to turn the steering wheel to gain control of your car. On a bike, you have to thrust your whole body to one side, and then watch out for waning gusts, when your leaning then becomes an overcompensation. When I finally got to Rush Center, 33 miles into the trip, I was in need of a break--my body was so exhausted. To make matters far worse, I was about to turn into the 28 mph, with gusts from 31-37 mph, for NINETEEN miles. This was the area where I intending to stay the night before, 4 miles North, instead if Ness City. I wanted to kick myself for not making it here last night, but things work in mysterious ways. The nature of this trip allows me to wonder how things would turn out of I had made a different decision. For example, where would I end up today if I had started from here this morning and not 32 miles away? Obviously, I had made a decision that was best for me at the time, and I will continue to do so, but it is interesting to think about how simple decisions you make really can have great impact on how you get things done, even if the end result won't change.

I sat down at pretty much the only open building in the small town, which was a restaurant and bar. It was packed. There were no windows, so I had wanted to sit outside to keep an eye on my bike. I sat at the picnic table for a bit waiting for the waitress, thinking about the hellacious experience I was about to undertake. I have never seen wind like this before on a bike. Nor did I ever think it was possible to have sustained winds like this and be able to bike, and here I was, having to face it. I had a choice: ride the tailwind north 4.5 miles and stay there and wait for the wind to pass overnight, or show the wind who was boss and try to make more than 32 miles progress for that day. So, I decided to fight the battle, to make progress, even if it was only another 33 miles for the day (but it would be 33 miles closer to getting out of Kansas). At that point, two older gentlemen walked passed me and chuckled as they asked me how my day was going. "Enjoying this wind?" they asked. I shook my head no with wide eyes. One guy told me that he couldn't believe I was out in it, and asked me where I was headed. When I told them I was about to head right into it, the man in the blue checkered shirt and overalls looked at his friend in the red t-shirt strapped down with navy suspenders, and then back at me. "You have my mercy," he said.

I eventually went inside (I think they forgot about me, they were so busy, so it would be easier if I just went in and checked on my bike periodically). As I was shoving my meal into my mouth, the waitress came up to me said "the man in the red shirt just paid for your meal, just so you know." I got up (and I didn't realize it until after, but I had my fork and dirty napkin in my hand when I went to talk to him) and thanked him for his generosity and kind gesture. He looked at me and said "Don't worry about it. I just know that where you are going, you are going to need it."

My waitress was nice enough to fill up my water bottles with ice, even the 3L bottle. It was 96 degrees out, and I knew that I was going to be working up quite the sweat. Every part of me had a bad feeling about how taxing this was going to be, mentally and physically. And that is where Lindsay came in. I had been texting her all morning (and previous evening), and told her what I was about to go into, because she fully understands. Her words to me were "You got this buddy." It is amazing that someone 1500 miles away can still pick you up and motivate you, just like she had everyday for a month. I was serious when I said that Lindsay would remain a part of this journey, and I am not talking about only words of encouragement, but we still are communicating throughout the day. She is constantly making me laugh. We are still constantly joking and reminiscing.

And I was off, with the mind set of knowing it was going to be awful, but I knew that it was only 19 miles. I knew where it was going to end, and that it would end. And so, like everything else, I just started doing it. I started by doing one 1 mile at a time. 19, 18. I was going 4.7 mph and only as high as 7.8, averaging around 5 mph. I was on my second to highest gear. The gusts would literally pound into my chest and force my torso backwards. My grip was tight on the handle bars, and I was crouched over and immediately would fight back after the initial blow and reposition myself. I felt as though the wind was just beating me up. At mile three, my water was already warm, which is not a position you want to be in in 96 degree heat. It is hard to keep your body cool with warm water.

The only way I can describe the wind is that it felt violent. I know that wind blows stronger than 28 mph, but I am pretty sure I have never stood in that wind before, let alone bike. I have only seen wind before that whips through the trees so fast that there is that stormy "howling sound." There are no trees where I was... only fields, but it was whipping through the dry grass so fast, that the howling sound was still very much audible. I pulled my bandana fully over my ears because the sound was deafening, and even that didn't do much. I felt like i had to focus just to hear myself think at times. When the gusts came, I told myself "I am stronger than the wind," and tried to keep pedaling.

I found a deserted building in a field near the road with about 4 miles left to go, and I stopped there to get out of the sun as I knew I was beginning to overheat, and needed some fuel. And then I was off to face the next few miles. I think I only really cursed once, because I just knew that I couldn't do anything about the situation. It wouldn't help.. I was trying to maintain my mindset that I learned the other day. This was just so hard. It is amazing what you will do to try to distract yourself. I thought about what I would eat for dinner (Subway, obviously), if the Subway would be in a gas station or in it's own shop, how far away it would be from the hotel. I couldn't down miles now by halves, because they were so long and grueling. I even recited a tongue twister over and over that my boyfriend taught me, and was highly amused at the fact that I could still mess up even after doing it perfectly three times in a row (The sheet is slit, who slit the sheet? Whoever slit the sheet is a sheet slitter).

And then, finally, after 3 hours and 45 minutes I saw it: the most beautiful intersection that existed (to me, at least) at that point: CR 156/CR183 that would take me to Larned. The thing was, those last 13 miles in the cross winds were long because I had very little reserve in me. I stopped at a National Park to get some shade as I noticed I had heat rash all over my arms. The fountain water was warmer than the water in my water bottles, and the women's room faucet didn't work. A ranger drove up to lock the facilities and I pathetically ran over and asked him if he had any water. He let me into the janitor's, and I splashed water all over myself. Wow, did I feel good after that. I pushed through the last few miles. My left hand was so exhausted from gripping the handlebars that i couldn't even use it to shift, and had top reach over south my right hand. I rolled into Larned, dropped my stuff off, indulged in Subway and a pint of Ben and Jerry's.

Lindsay had "bliped me" a quote from T.S. Eliot the night before that is in the prelude of the book "3 MPH:" "Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go." Finishing the day left a feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment, not because my legs were supported by a mattress and not clipped pedals at that point, (which undoubtedly helped ), but because I had just conquered 28 mph of crosswinds with incredible gusts. I would have typically avoid winds higher than 10 mph if could while training (and had the chance to do so today).

Today i was reminded to always fight, if you have the choice, because chances are that you will be stronger for doing so, and maybe even better off. The next battle will be easier because it seems as you dig deeper and deeper, what you end up finding is what you are really made of, and what you are capable. Scratching the surface will only give you a glimpse.

So, may the winds of Kansas hear me
now: You can try to knock me over, but you won't knock me down. The headwinds will certainly never be a favorite of mine to take on, but I have a feeling that after this fight today, my remaining battles with this particular element won't be so bad. It's all relative, right??

They say that wind is the Power of Spirit of life; it can move water, lift things up, and it can reshape mountains over time. Today, I was stronger than the wind. What an incredible concept to sleep on.