Days 78-84

August 23, 2005

Wow.

That just about sums up the past five days. It’s hard to believe it’s almost over. It seems like just last week I was here in Richmond, in this same room, laying out all my gear in preparation for the flight out to Oregon. Now, 84 days and 3,700 miles later, I’m back and just four short days away from the Atlantic and the conclusion of the trip.

The past few days have been a blur, as I suspected might happen. I think I’m in the early stages of post-tandem-depression. It’s not a depression; just an odd mixture of emotions. I’ll be in the middle of doing something and fade off into a scene from the trip. At dinner last night the sky reminded me of Wyoming. A car ride with my grandmother reminded me of getting behind the wheel of a car, for the first time in forever, back in St Louis. At lunch on Sunday I started wondering where Heather and Jackson, the Kiwi’s, were and what they were doing at that exact time.

I don’t expect this to end any time soon. I think this might be the beginning of a trend that will last a long time. Like any great love affair, I’m sure the trip will continue to teach me things long after it comes to a close.

As I return to the familiar surroundings I left a short while ago, I’m beginning to see how the ride has affected me. Beyond the scars and tan-lines, the trip has given me much more than I ever anticipated. To delve into the many thoughts and lessons of the trip in this forum, would, in a way, only cheapen them. They’re like sweet little treasures I found along my journey, the significance of which I could never fully convey.

Here’s a brief synopsis of the recent action:

Thursday I made my way to Roanoke where I met the kind folks at Channel 10 News. Karen McNew and her photographer, Jarrod, put together a nice story on the trip for the news that night. Karen was very nice and took a genuine interest in the trip. Jarrod, too, was very friendly and even let me crash with him that night. I was excited the have to trip featured in the news, the first of the trip. They did a great job of covering all the bases and highlighting all the elements. Thanks again guys! It was great to meet you.

Friday I landed in Lynchburg, literally. I had my first, and (hopefully) only, fall of the trip as I arrived in Lynchburg. It wasn’t anything too serious, just left me a bit banged up. Thankfully, Harrison, a Lynchburg local, spotted me laboring to patch my tire in my filthy, somewhat bloody, condition. He and his mother let me clean up in the building of their family law practice. After that, he drove me down to the bike shop to pick up a new tube and tire. He really saved me. My nerves were pretty shot and I wasn’t making too much progress in patching my flat. So, many thanks again Harrison! I’d still be on Fifth Street if you hadn’t been there to help…

Actually, I doubt I’d still be there. I would like to think my cousin and his wife would have eventually picked me up sometime that night. They were headed up to friends’ near Charlottesville and passed through town in perfect time to meet for dinner. It was great to see them. They treated me to dinner and enjoyed a firsthand glimpse into life on the road. Thanks again guys, looking forward to seeing you again – not too much longer..!

Another great thing about that night was getting a phone call from Karen McNew, the anchor in Roanoke. Her producer had her give me a call to find out where I ended up that day to do a follow-up for the evening news. Not only did they give an update of my progress, they recapped the whole event. So, another huge Thank You to the folks at Channel 10 News in Roanoke! It was a great surprise to find such great and continued support from the station.

Saturday was the worst day of heat and humidity of the entire trip, and the worst day of heat in weeks. I left Lynchburg with intentions of resting near Farmville that night. As I passed through Appomattox I saw I was only 24 miles outside of Farmville. Looking at the map, I figured I’d have enough time to get to Richmond and decided to make the push and surprise my grandmother.

A little past Appomattox, I crested the top of a hill and saw a handful of people on the side of the road waving as I approached. It was the Walton family. The Walton’s have two children with CF. A friend of theirs passed me down the road, called to let them know he just passed me, and told them where I was. They hopped in their car came out too meet and cheer me on. It was quite amazing. I was really touched that they came out in the heat to meet me. It was also great to meet little four-year-old Josie. A few of those little treasures I spoke of earlier came in that brief encounter with those great ladies.

It’s been great to learn of and meet these incredible people. They’re so young, and they have such an amazing, wise spirit about them. I rode off wishing I could do more; I felt so small. I can’t even imagine being the parent of one of these children. I’m sure they’d give anything to take this burden from them, eagerly trade places.

I got to Farmville, ate a little dinner, and got back on the road for Richmond. Some ridiculous phenomena occurred while I was inside eating dinner, the humidity increased 3-fold by the time I got back on the bike. It was almost unbearable. I was no longer sweating, I was now a human faucet and I couldn’t turn myself off. My entire body was completely drenched in sweat, including my shorts.

I never mentioned my rear and the great success I have been fortunate enough to experience on the trip for fear of jinxing it – I guess I hold on to a few superstitions here and there… However, I am happy to say, until Saturday, I never had any real problems with saddle sores or anything of that nature. But Saturday they came, and they came with a fury. I couldn’t even sit and pedal, I had to get up out of the saddle to do any pedaling. After a few minutes of fighting the pain, I pulled off, grabbed my dry shorts, ran into the woods, and swapped out. It was a little better, but after 7 miles those shorts were now soaked and as ineffective as the last pair. Before this whole uncomfortable debacle, shortly after leaving Farmville, I passed a sign that read, “Richmond 54.” 54 miles was not good; I thought I was only 30-35 miles away.

I wasn’t going to be able to make it to Richmond as I had hoped. I was father than I thought, crippled by a sore bum, unable to move as fast as I wanted, and quickly falling victim to a rapidly approaching night-time darkness. I could have roughed it behind another gas station or something of the sort, but being so close to Richmond and the bounty of potential rescuers proved to be too much of a temptation.

I called my Aunt who came and saved me from my miserable sweat fest. I really felt bad about throwing in the towel that night; it was the first time I felt like I quit, or had been beaten. I shouldn’t have decided to make the push; I should have found a spot in Farmville. Tracing it back to a few stupid moves on my part actually helped smooth it over. I told my aunt I was going to ride out to Powhatan, a little spot west of Richmond, on Monday for lunch to make up for it. She told me that was a stupid idea. I didn’t argue.

We didn’t go back to her house or my grandmother’s that night, my first stop back in Richmond was the ER in the Henrico Doctor’s Hospital. My grandfather has been battling a few ailments recently and was taken to the ER earlier that day. They decided to emit him, so we hung around while a room was cleaned and got him settled into his own room upstairs. It made for a long night, but it was good to see him and hang out with my aunt and uncle while he got situated.

Sunday I had lunch with family at my grandmother’s. It was good to be back at my grandmother’s. I stayed here for the five months I lived in Richmond while I assembled the trip. It was a nice visit and a great meal. Afterward, I headed over to my friends’ Jeff & Dawn for the night. I had planned on staying with friends and other family, I didn’t want to stay here at my grandmother’s, so as to prolong any sense of “home” for as long as possible.

Jeff & Dawn were incredibly helpful in assembling the trip. They made the trip themselves back in 2001 and had a ton of useful knowledge to share. When I think of our first night of hanging out and going over everything, I shudder to think of what they thought as I left. I knew absolutely nothing of the cycling world. They literally walked me through everything, and I couldn’t be more grateful. Not only were they patient in walking me through it all, they never doubted I could do it. And, knowing I exuded ignorance, I think that was the best part of getting to know them, their confidence.

They, once again, welcomed me with open arms into their home and even had a great dinner waiting. We chatted and ate amidst the healthy sounds of Mitch, their three-month-old, vying for his share of the spotlight. I thought of what a stark contrast it was to the night before in the hospital.

As I walked past the dimly lit rooms of the patients that night in the hospital, I wondered what kind of life they led up to that point; if they got to experience anything like the ride I just took on my way back to Richmond. Were they happy? I wondered how serious it was; if they’d have another chance to do some of the things they wished they had. It’s a strange paradox that all efforts to soften the experience of a hospital on the senses: the soft light, the hushed beeps, faint odors – they all add up to an incredibly jolting reminder of mortality and the frailty of life.

Snap back to the present dinner with the kids, the parents, the spitting up, the talk of a princess bike from a proud two-year-old named Carley – what a breath of fresh air. They’d smile and mention the peace that loomed on the horizon, but I didn’t mind at all; it really was great.

Those worlds should never have to meet. Kids don’t belong in hospitals.

After dinner Jeff kindly gave my bike, specifically my rear wheel, some much needed love. He also gave me one of his spare tires that’s in great shape. We finished tuning up the bike and sat down to watch a little video Dawn put together for Jeff of their own TransAmerican trip.

It was really great to see their trip. I was on the same route they were for some of the ride, so it was a great look back for me as well. It was great to talk about some of those “little treasures” with them. I really recommend making the long haul. There’s so much about the trip that people just wouldn’t understand without having done it themselves. It was so nice to have Jeff & Dawn to talk to and bounce some of that stuff off of. They’re really great. They also have a really great mother.

Before we headed off to bed, they told me to make myself at home and sleep in, whatever I wanted. They had to leave early for work, but Jeff’s mom would be there to watch the kids. I still wanted to get up and say thanks again to Jeff, but I just missed him. I did, however, get to meet his mom.

I’ve met a several great women on the trip and I was excited to find she was another one to add to the list. She was incredibly nice. I enjoyed listening to her stories of her travels abroad, the fateful road that sometimes took her there, and several other great topics of conversation as I ate my breakfast.

Carpe diem – remember that..? Seize the day, live life, drink it up..? I love talking to people that have, at least once, embraced that and let the tide carry them where it may. How great…

Yesterday and today I felt a little more tired than usual. I had two pretty late nights back to back, which I assumed was the cause. I had planned on taking off today, but decided to take one more day and get back on the road tomorrow, Wednesday.

I couldn’t be more ready to take that plunge into the Atlantic. Tomorrow I’ll ride down to Jamestown and get in position to take the Beach by storm.

Update...

I am alive and well. Sorry for the lapse in updates. The past few days have been a bit crazy. I successfully arrived in Richmond Saturday night and have been running around enjoying the re-entry to familiar surroundings. A full update will be posted sometime tomorrow afternoon...

Days 76&77

August 17, 2005

Ten Days, Baby!!! How ‘bout that!

When I try to think of the trip as a completed task I’m rendered speechless. I can’t describe all the things that come to mind when I think of the Finish Line and all the things I encountered on the way to it, and to try to describe the wave of emotions that flood me while I think of all those things is out of the question, it would be impossible.

Yesterday I had another thrilling ride through the hills of Virginia. I got on the road and enjoyed an hour of quiet riding through a small valley on a little two-lane road. It was a nice afternoon despite the distant thunder. The approaching shower caught up with me about halfway to Radford and kept me company the rest of the way into town.

It was another ridiculous downpour. And again, it was quite fun. I didn’t even bother digging out my rain jacket; I just enjoyed it. It reminded me of playing soccer in High School. The best games were always the ones played in the rain; completely drenched, covered in cut grass from the waist down, finding any excuse to slide and get even more dirty – good times. It was only the second ride in the rain since the ride into West Yellowstone back in Montana. At one point my feet looked up and said, “Hey, remember when we’d get soaked like every other day back in Oregon and Idaho?”

I got to Radford, about ten miles from Blacksburg, around 7 or so and called a friend who lives here to see if I could crash with her. I hung out in coldest Taco Bell this side of the Mississippi (which I can now say that with some credibility) while I ate and waited for the friend to return my call. She never did, but I didn’t mind. I found a nice little $25 motel instead. The shower alone was worth $25.

Today I planned on heading over to Blacksburg. The plan was to get over there, hang out, then meet Molly and her husband for dinner. Molly emailed me a few weeks ago and told me about her 7-year-old niece, Diana who also has CF. She and her husband, Allen, live in Blacksburg and were excited to meet while I was nearby. We exchanged emails this morning and she said they could take the short ride over to Radford and meet me over here if that would be easier. So that’s what we did.

It was really great meeting them; we had a really nice time. Thankfully their niece is doing great. The doctors say if they didn’t know she had CF, they wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at her lungs, they’re strong and healthy! So, pray for continued health and success for Diana, as well as all the many other children fighting this disease.

I would also urge you to consider making a pledge to the Foundation. I know it’s a bit of a sacrifice, but I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t something I didn’t believe in.

Right now there is no cure for CF, but progress is being made. In addition to over one hundred care centers, a network of research centers, and the provision of numerous grants for CF research to be done all over the world, the Foundation also hosts an annual conference in Williamsburg, VA. For some reason, this has been one of my favorite tools of the Foundation to learn about.

Now in its 18th year, this exciting conference invites scientists, literally, from all over the world to share knowledge from their specific disciplines and converge to create a dynamic atmosphere of collaboration. Dialogues range from new drug discoveries, more effective treatments for patients, and breakthroughs in gene therapies, along with many more exciting topics and ideas regarding the ongoing war with this disease. It is this type of forum that will continue to keep the lines of communication open among researchers and push them toward innovative techniques in confronting CF.

The CF Foundation won’t waste your money.

If you aren’t the check writing type, click here to make a contribution using your credit card. It will take 5 minutes, 3 if you’re good, and you will receive a confirmation for purposes of tax deduction. If you would, also be sure to mark “In honor of” 2 Feet 4 Pedals so we will be able to track the funds being given as a result of the trip.

I’ve said it before, because I believe it to be true – there is no such thing as a small gift. I know many of my friends are still working while going to school; I know how tough that is. If you could just spare $10; that would be awesome! Before I left, my sister donated $10 of her hard earned babysitting money. That was just about a third of her total assets at the time and it couldn’t have been a greater gift. Just take 5 minutes, try and see if you can do it in 3 – I bet you could…

One of the best things I’ve learned out here is that there are far more good people in the world than there are bad. As much as the media may try to paint the picture of a scarred and broken society, I’ve found the exact opposite to be true. People inherently desire to find good in others. I found it all across the country, from a multitude of races, from many parts of the world. I believe one of the reasons we were put on this planet was to look after one another. Whether from Jamaica, India, Holland, New Zeeland, Kansas, or Virginia Beach, we're all still amazing human beings that believe in the great universals of love, health, and happiness.

We’re all the same.

You may not know someone personally with CF but trust me, they are out there; 30,000 strong. And they are just as wonderful as your little brother, sister, son, daughter, niece, or nephew.

Day 76: 66.33 Total: 3,584.48

This is Diana.

Day 75

August 15, 2005

Well, hopefully you got a little taste of how it felt to cross into VA yesterday. My sister said the entry was pretty cheesy, but in a good way of course – of course... I knew it was a rather excited account of the event, but I went ahead and posted it anyway – trying to keep you right here beside me…

As hard as it was, I did finally fall asleep after a long time of thinking about everything. Putting on that song and “re-living” the ride of the afternoon was like pounding a 2-liter of Mt Dew, I was wired; I was up for at least another hour. But it was good. It’s so funny to take a look at your current situation and trace back all circumstances that lead to you ending up right there.

Last night I camped out behind an Exxon gas station. I played around with a few other lodging options but ultimately found myself riding around Grundy in the dark with no viable plan. I headed down to a little town a mile out of Grundy called Vansant and stopped in the gas station to see if they had any ideas. I hung out with the lady and kicked around ideas. She finally called someone who suggested I just crash out back. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that,” she said, “Yeah, Arnold may come through, but he’s harmless, you’ll be fine.” Arnold is an older gentleman who rides his bike to and from the bar down the road; it just so happens the gas station is halfway on his route to his house. She told me it wasn’t uncommon for him to stop there on the way home and sleep out back as well.

So, as I closed my laptop in this slightly overgrown grassy alley, with two commercial air conditioners trying their best to lull me to sleep under the blue hue of the fluorescent lights above, once again I began to think of the craziness of the situation and how unbelievable it was. That led to me thinking of how incredible the whole trip itself has been, which led to specifics within the trip, which led to how the trip was conceived, which led back to Stephen, which led to – you get the picture…

I never got to meet Arnold; it’s probably a good thing. I’m sure he would have scared me half to death, rolling up while I’m camped out in his favorite spot, on my laptop computer no less…

This morning I woke up, packed up, and got on the road. There was a thick fog lying in the hills this morning, it was pretty nice. It made for some great views as the sun, still golden, broke through the fog and lit up the hills in the distance. It was another nice morning ride. I ended up cutting the day a little shorter than I had planned. Instead of a longer day today and tomorrow to get to Blacksburg tomorrow, I decided to break it down into thirds. Now I’ll be able to get to Blacksburg at a nice hour on Wednesday to hang out and enjoy the town a little more.

I ended up in Tazewell, VA. It seems to be a nice little town. Tomorrow I’ll head toward Blacksburg and see how far I get.

Today: 48.55 Total: 3,518.15

Day 74

August 14, 2005

Virginia! It’s good to be here. Crossing the state line was definitely the highlight of the day, other than that, not much else happened. So, rather than bore you with the mundane details of where and what I ate, I’m just going to try to convey how great it felt to finally cross into my home state.

As I lay here, trying to figure out how to begin describing the feeling of crossing into Virginia, I realize it’s almost impossible; I can’t even really describe it to myself. I knew it would be a cool final threshold, but I was surprised at how overwhelmed I became as I started pedaling again, after the ceremonial photo session with the much-anticipated state welcome mat.

It was the first time I actually felt I had crossed into another state. It was more than just a sign this time; it was different. I felt like Dorothy stepping out of her wind swept house into the colorful world of Oz, it was beautiful. Just as I crossed the line, truly, the road joined forces with a river and ran side by side, the river to my left. The high wall of the bluff to my right took two large steps backward and was now showcasing the lush green blanket of sprawling ivy that covered everything and even hung from the trees. Mini-waterfalls of runoff water from the hills dotted the ride as the moisture of the recessed woods cooled my skin.

I couldn’t stop stopping. I kept wanting to take pictures, I also didn’t want the feeling to go away. I was on Cloud 9, reeling in a state of numb confusion over all the events that led me to that little bubble of time. I really felt like Dorothy, that’s as best I can describe it. I felt like I was in a place I knew but had never been. I kept looking up, to the right, the left, behind me... I finally put the camera away and told myself to enjoy it. I felt like I had crossed the Finish Line.

I was about 12 miles from Grundy and in no hurry to get there. I was on my victory lap. Not too far into the ride of euphoria U2’s Where the Streets Have No Name came on over my MP3 player – of course it would… For those who may not know – just, if you haven’t heard it, or haven’t heard it in a while, check it out. It’s a great song with the most incredible, adrenaline-inducing intro ever written. I was so pumped. I felt a truck coming up behind me, as it passed and I saw the bright Virginia license plate pull away the most giddy laugh flew out of me. It was nuts. It was great.

I want to do it again…

So I’m home; the rest of the ride is dessert. And I can’t wait. I don’t even know what else to say. I just put on that song again, closed my eyes, and let Bono and the boys take me back to this afternoon so I could refresh the feeling, and once again I’m speechless. What a great ride.

Today: 55.34 Total: 3,469.40

I'll buckle up, I swear! I'll do anything you want - I'm just so happy to be here..!

Days 71-73

August 13, 2005

Two weeks from now the trip will be over.

Thursday I left Lexington and got back on the road for Virginia. Before leaving I was disappointed to learn the paper did not run the story as I eagerly anticipated. Referring to our conversation the night before, about big papers versus smaller circulars, Brett’s response to the sad news, or lack of news as it were, was, “That’s the nature of the beast…”

A little ways down the road I stopped by a little farm to hang out with a handful of very hospitable horses. I’ve really come to appreciate horses through the course of the trip. They have to be one of the most regal animals on the planet. In addition to their incredibly strong physiques, they seem to have a nice quiet wisdom about them. They’re quite amazing.

After my little equine excursion, I got back on the road and noticed a man taking my picture as I came down a hill. As I passed the man I realized it was Pablo. He had mentioned he had to go out of town that morning to get some pictures for the paper. I told him to keep an eye out for me in case he’d pass me on the way back, but was surprised our paths had actually crossed again. He passed me and turned around to take a few shots of me coming down the hill. It was really great to see him again. We chatted a bit, he gave me a bottle of water, we took a look at his better-detailed road atlas, and parted ways once again.

It was another day of feeling my way in a general eastward direction. I ended up calling it a day in Campton, Kentucky. Several people warned me that I would start to encounter some pretty rough hills on the ride coming out of Lexington. Thankfully it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. However, it was a pretty hot day, as they all are, and I was glad to finally rest for the night.

Yesterday I started the ride in the hopes of reaching Virginia. I knew it would be a long day but also knew it was possible. Had I managed to get on the road earlier than I did, I would have made it. I ended up running out of daylight. Yesterday did confirmed, however, that I’m in the best shape of my life; of course an amazing realization through a great day of riding.

As I said, the goal for the day was to cross the VA state line. Stupidly, I finally got on the road at 12:30pm. Even with the late start, I knew it was possible. It was possible, but I’d have to work hard to make it happen. I got moving and, pretty quickly, ran into a little succession of hills. I set a few bars for myself, as a hopeful means to reaching my goal for the day, and powered my way along. It was the hardest I had worked since the ride to Canon City with Temple, and it felt great.

I actually love to sweat. As weird as it may sound, I like being drenched with sweat in the midst of a workout. I guess it just feels like proof; proof you’re really working hard. Yesterday the sweat was, once again, rolling off me as I motored along. I was able to find a consistent cadence, which I hadn’t had in a while, and maintain it. In contrast to the day before, along with many other days, I focused on keeping the cranks spinning, and was pleased with my ability to do so. I was able to slip into a bit of a zone and perform. After I’d stop to grab a snack and a drink, it would take me a few minutes to fall back into the spell, but once I did I was in, moving just as smoothly as before.

As a personal act of quiet stubbornness, I haven’t used the third chain ring since before Missouri. I vowed not to dip into it for the duration of whatever Ozark madness I would encounter. I was successful in keeping my oath in Missouri and haven’t used it since, yesterday being the first test of that oath in a while. There’s really no reason for it, just a little personal “I did it” for whatever it’s worth. I’m sure it’s actually a waste of energy and wearing out my middle chain ring, but I’m a dumb young man and will, undoubtedly, continue the streak as long as I’m able.

I got to the east side of Pikeville at 6:30 and stopped in a Shoney’s where I inhaled a sweet tea, a piece of strawberry pie, another sweet tea, and spaghetti dinner, with meat sauce on the side, in that order. I kinda threw the lady for a loop when I asked for my dessert first, but it looked so good in the window I didn’t want to wait. On the way in I spoke with a guy who said the state line was about 30 miles away. Just as I planned, I ate and was back on the bike at 7 o’clock. I really thought I could hustle and get to VA in two hours, just behind the last shades of dusk.

As I made my way through Pikeville I noticed it was getting darker quicker than I anticipated. I felt something telling me to throw in the towel and call it a day. So, having learned my lesson to trust my instincts, I stopped on the west side of town and set up camp for the evening. I didn’t make it to VA, but I counted it a successful day nonetheless.

I decided to take today off here in Pikeville. Nothing too exciting, just a day of resting and preparing to roll into VA. Another sign of my hard work yesterday was the soreness I felt this morning. My lower back being the main pain, my whole body felt a touch more sensitive than normal. So it was extra nice to take it easy today.

Two weeks from now the trip will be over. A trip that once seemed as if it would never come now seems as if it has flown by. I used to refer to the ride as a journey, however, the speed with which the trip has taken, as well as the choices that lay ahead have shown me that it is only a trip, a short stint in a larger journey that will press on long after the 27th. I’m not sure where my journey will lead me after this trip comes to a close, but I will be ever thankful for the opportunity I had to make it and take in all I’ve been able to experience as a result. I am increasingly more thankful for having known Stephen and being able to benefit from the legacy he left behind. This was really a present given to me from him and I thank him for it. It’s been amazing.

But it’s not over yet... As anxious as I am to get home, I do still have 14 days left. I’ll be tapping into a few more papers in Virginia and making a final run for media exposure. I’m proud to say the three big news affiliates have committed to being at the beach for the Finish Line arrival, thanks to my hometown media/pr coordinator – my mom. So, that will be a nice final piece of publicity for the Foundation and the event...

I guess that’s all for now. Tomorrow, Virginia!

Day 71: 64.43
Day 72: 85.44 Total: 3,414.26

The heat's so bad even the cows start looking for shade...

Day 70

August 10, 2005

Today went much better than yesterday; no flats..!

This morning I looked in the phone book for a bike shop in Frankfurt to swing by before getting on the road. The closest bike shop I saw was in Lexington, 30 miles up the road from Frankfurt. I finally rode about 12 miles successfully last night on the cursed, flat-prone wheel into Frankfurt and figured it would be alright to ride on it over to Lexington; I really had no other choice. I grabbed some lunch and got on the road.

It was so nice to actually ride the bike again, instead of stopping every ten minutes to fix the bike. It really was a nice ride. I got to Lexington in just over two hours; it felt good to get back on track again. The scenery was quite nice today as well, lots of well-kept ranches with plenty of land for their horses to run and stretch their legs.

I got to Lexington and called my aunt for the address to the Lexington Herald-Leader. After asking a local for directions over to it, I rode over to see if they’d be willing to help out. Thankfully they were, in more ways than I expected.

I called up to an editor from downstairs and she said she’d find someone to head down and chat. Sam, one of their reporters, came down and spoke with me for a while and asked me a few questions for the story. After speaking with Sam a bit, Brett, the photojournalist, came down to take a few pictures. The three of us spoke for a few minutes before Brett and I headed outside.

I had told the guys how I was thinking about hanging out in Lexington for the night while we spoke inside. It seemed like a cool little town and I also wanted to take a little better look at the University of Kentucky campus. As Brett and I walked over to the little park across the street he asked me where I thought I might stay if I stayed in Lexington. I told him I wasn’t sure and asked him if he knew of a good spot to check out. He definitely knew of a good spot. He said I could head over and crash at his place if I wanted. I asked him if he was sure, he said he was, and the deal was done.

After he took a few pictures, we went back inside so he could upload them and submit them to the editor. While he wrapped things up with that I chatted with Pablo, another photographer on staff, who is also a cyclist. He, too, was really friendly and suggested my rim tape may have been the cause of all my flats yesterday. The spokes may not have been visibly coming through, but if there were holes in the tape, the tube when fully inflated would creep down in there and find the spokes, causing the flats. The scenario fit the situation rather well, I think he nailed it; I did have a few holes.

After Brett wrapped things up with the article, we grabbed all my bags off the bike and tucked her away at the bike rack in the stairwell and headed out for the bike shop – yes, that’s right, in a car! Brett drove me over to the shop where I picked up some tape, two more tubes, and a free presta/shrader valve adapter. After that we headed over to a nice little Mexican restaurant for dinner where Pablo met us shortly thereafter. It was a good time.

After dinner we said goodbye to Pablo and headed over to the house, which is quite a nice house. It actually belongs to his brother; I didn’t get to meet him, he and his family are in Cincinnati right now. Brett is staying with them while he wraps up his internship before heading up to Michigan to start his new job on Tuesday. So a big thank you also goes out to Brett’s brother for letting me crash at his nice home, thank you! We hung out downstairs and watched a some TV on a nice little 61” television, with surround sound, while we chatted, fixed a broken spoke, and put the new rim tape on the rear wheel. It was really nice of him to let me come over and stay here tonight. Thanks again Brett!

So as you can see today was quite the contrast from yesterday when I spent more time fixing the bike than riding it. I am very thankful for the kindness found at the paper. It’s another big one and should reach a rather large audience tomorrow, not to mention the great hospitality found there in Brett. Just a good stuff on a good day.

We’ll see what tomorrow has in store…

Today: 34.56 Total: 3,264.39

Of course the owner of the car had to turn the corner just as I was hunched over firing off a picture of his license plate. Brett quickly stepped in and defused the situation very nicely..!

Los Tres Amigos...

Days 68&69

August 10, 2005

What a day. It’s 12:22am and I’m quite exhausted. I was tempted to just crash and put off the journal for another day or so, but I couldn’t go to bed without filling you in on the disastrous record I set today. I’m just going to tell you – today I had 6 flats in the span of 12 miles. 6 Flat Tires!!! 6 and a half if you want to get kinda technical…

Yesterday I decided to take the day off in Louisville. I was able to get some laundry done, stroll around town, pick up some inner tubes, eat some pizza, and go to a Louisville Bats game. The Bats are the Triple-A farm team of the Cincinnati Reds and they have a nice little stadium to play in that can’t be more than 3 years old. They played Indianapolis; I missed the Tides, the Norfolk Tides, by one day. All in all it was a pretty good day.

Today before leaving town I swung by the paper and was able to speak to a real nice reporter whom I can’t remember the name of right now, my apologies – it’s getting late... But he was really nice; we had a great chat. I’m pretty sure that’s the biggest paper to feature the story so far. Thank you to the Courier-Journal for your willingness to help! It should run in tomorrow’s paper. They gave me directions to get out of town, I swung by McDonald’s, and got on the road.

Now, the thing about the tubes I picked up yesterday is that they were pretty skinny. My tires are a little wider than the normal road tires and the only tubes the little shop had were for thinner tires. But being that the difference was only a matter of about ten millimeters, and that was my only option, I went for them anyway; I picked up two. It was a primarily a skate and BMX shop, so I was thankful they had any tubes at all, I figured they’d at least get me to another shop to pick up some others. On the way out of town today I found another bike shop.

I picked up two more tubes and a patch kit from the real shop I found this afternoon. Now having three spare tubes, I left the shop thinking those may be the last spares I get for the trip, now I’m thinking that may not be the case…

It took me over 8 hours to go 50 miles.

I was a little bummed when I picked up the first flat, but I changed it out and went over to Burger King to treat myself to a milkshake as a reward. Thinking that would be my speed bump for the day, I figured I’d get a little pick-me-up for the ride to Frankfurt; I had close to 40 miles left. I guess I was about 10 miles down the road when my second one came, and as you may remember from the first half of the trip: one flat kills your momentum, two flats kill your nerves. That still holds true, and being so, I can’t even describe what 6 flats does to you.

I was actually okay with the first several flats. Seriously, what are you going to do? You’re gonna fix it, you have no choice. There’s no use getting all bent out of shape and making things worse for yourself. However, the fourth was about the last one that I was able to hold on to that perspective. The fourth was also the first one I had to patch having just blown through my three new spare tubes. I had just patched the hole, put it back together, checked the evenness, and was pumping it up to put back on the bike when I heard the foul sound of air pouring out of the tire again. Somehow a new hole bit into the tube as I was pumping it up, hence the added "half-flat." I checked the tire before putting the tube in, and I had been checking the rim to see if any spokes were popping through all along, so I don’t know how that little hole happened, but it did and I wasn’t too happy about it.

Then the fifth and sixth came back-to-back, no more than 3 miles down the road. One of my theories is that, again, the tubes were too skinny for the tire and in inflating them to fit the tire, I was stretching them a bit too thin making them more vulnerable – I really have no idea… I ended up chucking the shoddy tire at a tree after getting it off the rim after the fifth flat. After putting my skinnier old “spare” tire back on the bike, I went and picked up the trash tire so I could have another thrill of vengeance by dunking it in a trash can when I got to Frankfurt, if I’d ever get there…

Of course I did get here, five minutes to nine, starving and exhausted. I went straight to Chili’s to fill the tummy then came here to rest the body. I really started asking to have “the lesson” revealed to me in those 6 flats tonight. I’m still not exactly sure what it was but at least, I truly pray, it will act as another McKenzie and I’ll be able to say, “Well at least it’s not as bad as 6 Flats!”

Three highlights of the day: First, as mentioned, encountering the kindness at the Courier-Journal. Second, chatting with Tom while fixing the third flat. Tom was heading home from work when saw me working on the side of the road and stopped to make sure I was alright. He was real nice for stopping and was even nicer for getting out and chatting a bit while I wrapped things up. I also saw he did indeed check out the site when he got home and signed the guestbook. I love when I meet people out here and they take the extra step to go online and learn a little bit more about the trip and everything that’s attached to it. So Thanks Tom! It was great to meet you! Thanks for stopping by and making sure I was in good shape. And the last highlight of the day was the sun just before it set. It was a vibrant orange/pink/magenta color; it reminded me of my sister Janice. Janice likes to collect rubber bouncy super-balls you get out of the gumball machine. The sun looked like a big super-ball tonight, it was pretty nice. Janice is going to be a freshman in high school this fall. My other sister, Christina, just celebrated her 19th birthday this past Saturday, that’s one year away from 20. Everybody’s getting so old; I’m not too sure I like it…

Another little tidbit about Tom is that he has a five-year-old little girl. He told me about how he and his wife have a tandem and they like to hook up the little baby-caboose to it and go for rides as a family. As he told me about his little girl, I thought of another little girl I recently learned of battling CF. One of my new friends, Molly, has a nine-year-old niece who has CF. She sent me a picture of her this morning and my heart broke to think of such a beautiful little girl having to confront such an awful disease. I thought of how fortunate Tom is to have a healthy daughter; I didn’t think to mention it to him, but he seemed like the type of guy who is already well aware of it.

Tomorrow I’ll find the paper, a bike shop, and head out for Mt Sterling. With the off day in Louisville, I’m now slated to hit VA on Saturday, two weeks from the Finish Line!

Day 69: 53.82 Total: 3,229.83

Days 63-67

August 7, 2005

Tonight I write to you from Louisville, Kentucky! The past few days were quite nice as I was able to skate through two states in five days. The miles are starting to fall away easier and easier the closer I get to home.

Wednesday I left St Louis and crossed the Mississippi into Illinois. I said I was about five miles from my next state; it ended up being a quarter of a mile. I was pleasantly surprised to find I could cross the river on a bridge right next to where I was staying. I got into Illinois and re-entered the world of friendly drivers. The re-entry only heightened my feelings about Missouri; it is truly an enigma. Just as quickly as I entered the little Missouri bubble of hostile daredevil drivers, I crossed the Mississippi and it was gone. As I rode along the little Illinois state road, on my way out of East St Louis, I was almost giddy with joy at the space people allowed me when they passed. I wanted to send them all thank you notes just for being so gracious. It’s funny the little things you take for granted – until you ride through Missouri…

Wednesday was also a great day for getting back to the bliss of not being confined to a set course. I left St Louis headed for one destination. As I felt my way out of East St Louis, I realized I was on course for a new destination. As I changed gears and headed for that little town, I called my Aunt who told me my Great Aunt and Uncle used to live there in Belleville, the town I was about to leave. So as I rode through Belleville, I decided to take a little detour over to Scott Air Force Base and see where Uncle Art was stationed over 35 years ago.

The little detour ended up being a little more than I anticipated, but definitely worth it. I was fortunate enough to spend some time with Uncle Art when I was little, but not nearly as much as I would have liked. From the stories of his brother, my Pop-Pop, he was an incredibly smart, savvy, and charming man. It was a neat feeling to ride around the town he and Ruth lived in so many years ago.

As I passed Scott AFB I saw a sign telling me I was headed for Centralia. I took a quick look at the atlas and decided let that be my final destination for the day. I got into town shortly before dusk, noticed the sun setting a little early than normal, found the town park, picked out a cozy little picnic table, and eventually fell asleep right there in my nasty cycling clothes, at least they were dry by then...

The next morning I woke up a little after 5:30 and went over to Hardee’s for breakfast with The Crew. I’ve come to find every town has their own version of The Crew. The Crew consists of a handful of older gentlemen who meet every morning at their local watering hole to watch the sun rise, read the paper, drink coffee, and solve the world’s problems. The Centralia Crew was very welcoming to me as I strolled in, still wiping the sleep from my eyes. They gave me directions for a new route over to Fairfield that wasn’t on the map, wished me well, and sent me on my way.

I got to Fairfield, my destination for the day around 11 that morning. As I pulled in I thought about covering a little more ground since it was so early. After lunch I swung by the library to hop on the internet and check my mail. As I sat in the library I noticed myself get real sleepy, I thought about taking a little nap there, under the guise of “reading a book,” but decided against it. Still unsure of what to do, I got on the bike and headed back for Main Street. As I rode down the street I saw a sign at a little motel for rooms at $35. I figured it was hot and early enough to get my $35 worth, and called it a day.

The next morning I woke up and headed over to the newspaper before I left. They were very interested in the story and were excited to do a feature in their paper. I swung by Pizza Hut for a little lunch buffet action and headed out of Fairfield. The next town I came to was Albion where I found another warm reception at the local paper. I chatted with Will, one of the reporters, he shot off a few pictures, and I kept on rolling. Two papers in one day, new record..!

Albion was also great for two ladies I met at the grocery store before I left. I didn’t mention it, but I burnt my leg back in St Louis. I was going to take a knee and get low to the ground to take the last picture I posted of St Louis, the one of the dimly lit alley. Steam coming out of one of the manhole covers is what drew my attention to the great scene; it was also what caused the burn. I ended up burning the right side of my leg, between my shin and my calf. At the time, I didn’t think it was as bad as it was but I later realized should have put some ointment or something on it. At least it’s a descent picture. Anyway, I went in the grocery store for some Neosporin and met two nice ladies, sisters. We chatted for a while and they invited me to stay with them that night at their farmhouse that had plenty of extra space. Having only traveled 15 miles and eager to get into Indiana, I graciously declined the invitation. But they were very nice and made me, once again, thankful to be in Illinois – that would have never happened in Missouri…

I stopped in Mt. Caramel for a great BBQ sandwich and Sweet Tea dinner, the first true Sweet Tea of the trip – definitely getting closer to home! – then hustled over the Wabash River to cross into Indiana.

I picked up a flat a half-mile from a motel outside of Princeton, my scheduled stop for the night. I noticed it was a somewhat of a slow leak so I pumped it up as much and as quickly as I could and gunned it over to the motel, either the leak was faster than I thought or I didn’t “gun” it as quick as I should have, I had to stop and put more air in it once more before getting to the Inn. It was that final flat that initiated the August fifth “Love Your Bike Night.”

I think the bike’s almost more ready to cross the Finish Line than I am. Love Your Bike Night was mainly a night of wheel-love. Somewhere along the way I caught a curb or something and put a nice bite into the sidewall of my rear wheel. That morning I noticed a little bubble of the inner tube poking out of that hole. So that night I made a nice custom tire patch of business cards and duct tape, it worked perfectly. I also patched that bite I picked up coming into Princeton and trued my front wheel a bit and got those brakes re-aligned.

Yesterday I got up and headed for English, Indiana. I took my time getting out of Princeton and took an extended break for dinner to call friends and such in Huntingburg; my slack approach to the miles of the day would later catch up with me. My rear tire went flat about ten miles out of Huntingburg. Having no fresh spare tubes, I had to patch it. I ran out of real patches back in Misery, I mean – Missouri, and had to use those old cheap, stick-on jobs I had problems with back in Oregon, to patch the tube the night before in Princeton. So I had a feeling, and wasn’t surprised, to find that cheap patch had given out and needed to be replaced. With sweat literally rolling off me, as if I just stepped out of the shower, I fixed it and got moving again.

I got to English around dusk and didn’t find any descent prospects to crash. I asked some ladies if there was anything up the road and they said there was an old motel 7 or 8 miles down in Morengo. It was getting late, but I decided to try and beat the setting sun and get to Morengo before dark.

I was about a mile out of English and I caught another flat. By this point it was near dark and I wasn’t in the mood for another flat. After a loud roar of frustration, I prayed for calmness and a swift repair. I think my prayer for calmness was answered in two brothers passing by on bikes of their own. They chatted with me as I patched the tire, with my last patch, and offered some distraction from my self-magnified dilemma. I said goodbye to the brothers, rigged up my rear light, and took off for Morengo in the dark.

Thankfully it didn’t take long at all to get to Morengo. I stopped by a gas station for a snack and a drink, found a little elementary school with a nice shelter of picnic tables, and set up camp for the night. It was the first night I gave myself an impromptu baby powder bath before lying down to sleep on another fabulous picnic table, and it was almost as refreshing as taking a real shower – just a little something to keep in mind if you ever find yourself in Morengo with only a bottle of baby powder to kick the funk...

This morning I got up early and got on the road for Kentucky. I was about halfway into the ride when I picked up yet another flat! They really stink. They especially stink when you are out of patches and/or spare tubes. I walked over to a little hardware store that I was amazed to find open at the early hour to see if they would, by any chance, have patches. They didn’t, so I had to improvise a little yet again. I ended up peeling an old patch of an old tube and carefully applying it to the new hole. Amazingly it worked!

I got to Kentucky and Louisville right around 11:30, had a nice lady check me into a place a little early, got ready to bring my bike over to my room, and found my rear tire was flat. The makeshift patch took me right up to the office of the hotel and died right there.

But it feels good to be so close. These past few days I’ve had a bit of tunnel vision, just focused on the end, and little things keep reminding me I’m getting closer. The sweet tea, dancing with interstate 64 since St Louis, being in the eastern time zone again, finally: they’re just small examples of the little reminders. Portions of the ride yesterday and today also reminded me of Virginia with their nice, lush hills of densely packed trees.

Today I also had my first real, great down since coming off Hoosier-Daddy. It was a mile and a half stretch down into New Albany, right on the Indiana-Kentucky border. It was a great winding road with a 5-7% down grade and reminded me of a lot of great moments of riding from the trip. The first thing it reminded me of the great down coming out of Grangeville. That’s still maybe the best one of the trip. It felt good to remember how nice the bike felt weaving in and out of those turns, as if we were sliding down a great silk carpet. It reminded me McKenzie, the hill coming out of Redmond, the ride into New Meadows, just so many things and all the things attached to those things. It became a little retrospective of the trip and reminded me of how fortunate I am to have created all those great memories and images for myself.

It really has been an amazing ride. And even as excited as I am to cross into VA and push to the Finish Line, I am a bit sad that it is drawing to a close. It seems like last summer that I flew out to Oregon to begin this trip, but at the same time, somehow, the trip has flown by at an incredible rate; it also feels like just last week I said goodbye to Chris & Chaz, and now they’re already home regrouping before they head off to school.

Well, if you’ve successfully read down to this point of the entry, congratulate yourself for completing your own test of endurance. Hopefully you’ve enjoyed my rambling account of the past few days. I’ll draw it to a close for now and wish you all a great week ahead. According to the timeline I just laid out a while ago, my week will culminate in crossing into VA on Friday - what a great day that will be!

Day 63: 68.99
Day 64: 55.04
Day 65: 49.24
Day 66: 79.11
Day 67: 39.82 Total: 3,176.01

One last look at St Louis from above the Mississippi

Get up, we'll rest when we get there.

One of 16 Drive-In movie theaters left in the country, or so I'm told...

Crossing the Ohio River into Kentucky

Days 56-62

August 2, 2005

Well, I’m about five miles from completing my seventh state, Missouri. With a total of only three riding days, it’ll be the quickest state I’ve crossed.

Thursday morning I struggled to wake up in the Carver basement. It was so dark down there I could have slept all day. I went up stairs and had a great pancake breakfast with the family, compliments of Marc, and then got ready to get on the road and head down to the Kansas City Star. We pulled out of the Carver driveway 5 cyclists strong.

Tammy and the kids enjoyed a short ride send off with Marc and I before we broke from them and headed downtown. We arrived at the Star and went in to find a reporter and found, once again, we got there as everyone had broke for lunch. I decided to go get a little lunch myself while I waited for the crew to get back and Marc decided to head back home. I thanked Marc again for all the kindness he and his family showed me, said goodbye to him, and ate lunch at a cool little BBQ place.

When I got back to the Star I talked with Jesse Barker on the phone from the security booth downstairs. Jesse is one of the editors and told me he couldn’t find a reporter just then, but if I stuck around ‘til tomorrow he’d surely be able to get on the story then. I made sure he would be able to line that up and agreed to hang around. Five minutes earlier, I finalized plans to meet Libby in St. Louis on Sunday; a perfectly timed itinerary, given I get on the road that afternoon after talking with the Star. Killing a day in Kansas City would mean I’d have to break Missouri down into three rides and cover more ground a day, but that was okay, I’d be reaching a huge market through the Star. I hung up the phone and went outside to call my mom. As I was on the phone with her a guy walked over to me as if he knew me. He said he was the voice on the other end of the phone a minute ago and wanted to come down and let me know he wasn’t just blowing me off, I thought that was very nice of him. I had my cousin find a cheap motel and give me directions and made my way over to my lodging for the night.

It ended up being a somewhat productive unplanned off day, I was able to knock out some work I had been putting off, namely the new “Finish Line” page on the website. If you haven’t already, go to the 4pedals.com home page and click the link to the party page. It outlines all that’s going to be happening the day I get back and everyone’s invited! I really would love to see everyone that’s been so excited and supportive of the trip. And those that I’ve met only through exchange of emails as well, it would be great to meet you guys too. I think it really is going to be a great night and it would be really cool to see everyone there. So check it out and make plans to be there!

Friday I got up and called Mr. Barker in regard to meeting and having a story put in the paper. He definitely remembered me and said he meant to call me yesterday. After we spoke that afternoon, he spoke with another editor who told him it wasn’t uncommon to have cross-country cyclists come through. He said they’ve already done a few stories on the topic and he they wouldn’t be able to help out this time. I was pretty bummed, especially after taking the day off the day before to stick around. But I didn’t dwell on it, I just went over to IHOP to drown my sorrows in a nice international omelet and got on the road.

Now having to hustle to get to St Louis by Sunday, I went about 80 miles Friday to get to Sadalia. I got my first taste of Missouri madness on the way to Sadalia, it got worse the following day on the ride to Jefferson City.

Missouri has been the hardest state to ride in, mentally as well as logistically. The roads have little to no shoulders, they’re laden with never-ending hills, and the drivers in Missouri have been the worst of the trip. Those driving trucks were the worst. Not only would they buzz by me, testing their ability to get as close as possible, they’d honk as they pass, adding to their outpouring display of class and generosity. It was very frustrating and made for a few long rides.

I made it to Jefferson City in the early evening of Saturday night. I found a Chili’s right on the west edge of town and stopped for dinner and directions. The servers told me about Katy Trail, an old rail line that has been converted to a bike trail, which goes all the way to St Louis. It also followed along state road 94 should I find the trail a bit cumbersome, so I headed over to give it a shot. The manager said he didn’t think it was “paved” like I would think and he was right. It was a firmly packed dirt trail with a layer of finely ground limestone on top. It wasn’t the most ideal riding conditions, but it wasn’t too terrible either, so I decided to give it a test ride to Tebbetts, 12 miles down, and camp there that night.

With the road running right beside the trail, it seemed silly to stay on it and coat the bike in dust and debris; it didn’t take long to hop back on the road and take 94 into Tebbetts. When I got there I saw the little town had a bike hostel set up for those on the trail. I spoke with a neighbor who showed me to the key, let myself in, got settled, and enjoyed a night of free lodging courtesy of the local townsfolk. It was a nice stay in Tebbetts. I was very pleased to find the unexpected accommodations. The only downside of the stay in Tebbetts was waking up to find someone had stolen my helmet.

I am partly to blame for the crime but I still can’t believe someone would have taken it, especially from in front of a bike hostel. Right when I got there, as I was reading the info on the door and trying to figure how things worked, I took off my helmet and set in on the bench right outside. As I was pulling my bike inside and getting settled, I remember seeing it on the bench and thinking, “Oh yeah, I need to grab that.” That was the last time I saw it. I spent 15 minutes the next morning looking for it; it was definitely taken. It was a good helmet, it will be missed. I pray its new owners are treating it nicely and giving it all the love and attention it received in the many miles we shared together. Now a moment of silence, please.

Thank you.

I pulled out of Tebbetts Sunday morning and got on the road, less one helmet, destination: St. Louis. It was a tough ride. I bounced back and forth between the road and the trail, I got two flat tires in the process, I didn’t have anything to eat besides some beef jerky, animal crackers, and Lance crackers, and the frustration of just still being in Missouri continued to weigh on me. I called my friend Libby at the first pay phone I came across to discuss our plans for meeting in St Louis and was excited to hear we were relatively close.

I cannot tell a lie. I ended up meeting Libby a few miles outside of St Louis and riding into the city with her. It was great to see her and her cute pup Lucy. We met at a McDonald’s right off I-70. We worked a little magic and managed to squeeze the horse in the car, I went in a grabbed a value meal to-go, and we took off in her candy-apple coach bound for St Louis.

It felt great to jump in the Grand Am and fly down to the city. It was the second time I caught a ride and was much longer than the first, but I felt no guilt in taking it. The excitement of getting to see a friend from home and hang out with her, paired with the anxiousness to get out of Missouri more than compensated for any thoughts of “cheating” trying to sway my decision of taking the ride. We had a great night of hanging out and catching each other up on our summers and all that’s been going on.

Yesterday I took a planned off day to enjoy a bit of St Louis and go to a Cardinals’ game that night. Yesterday was also great in that I was able to get behind the wheel of a car for the first time since leaving VA. It was so much fun; I felt like I was on a ride, it was great. Libby’s car is fun to drive anyway, but not driving in 60-plus days makes it really fun. We went to a mall in one of the nearby suburbs where I got a much-needed haircut, went out for lunch, and swung by a Sports Authority to pick up a new helmet for my fragile dome.

That night I got to visit Busch Stadium for the first and last time in my life and watched the Marlins beat the Cardinals. Next year the Cardinals will play in a new park, so it was cool to get to visit old Busch before they tear it down. It was a fun night. We sat next to Marty from Utah and his two buddies, and in front of Liz, Steph, and the two Jens, we all had a fun time. After telling the girls behind us about my trip and flashing them some tan line insanity, they lovingly renamed and referred to Libby and I “Lance” and “Cheryl.”

Today I decided to take another day off in St Louis. I wasn’t ready to get back on the road this morning. It’s been good to spend the day hanging out and taking care of a few little details before getting back at it tomorrow, plus I’m still a head of schedule and have a little time to kill.

But I am looking forward to the last stretch. This is the last little pit stop party before I get to the Atlantic on the 27th. I’m feeling good and ready for the last push to the finish line. The Finish Line that will crowded with friends and family to help celebrate, right..? Awesome.

Day 56: 54
Day 57: 55
Day 58: 28.90
Day 59: 80.83
Day 60: 80.52
Day 61: 46.11 Total: 2,883.81

The kind Carvers

Kansas City, Missouri - State #7

A local artist outside the Kansas City Star

The scene of the crime...

St Louis, finally!

Stop looking at the flash..!

Whoa, easy Hollywood..!

Wish you were here..!

Some St Louis Love...