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.