Day Forty-Eight
I'm not sure if it came across in yesterday's post, but yesterday's ride from Bristol to Perry was tediously long. The country is green and pretty, the road good, but the highway felt like an unending furrow through the swampy forest. Other than dealing with the tires, everything was fine, it just kept going and going for hours. I never figured out what people do out here. Usually, small towns have some identifiable purpose, like logging, or grazing, or there's a prison, or a railroad maintenance facility--something. Granted, I didn't stick around long enough to study the place, but this part of Florida feels like people came and said, "there aren't any people here. Let's settle". "But what will we do? There's nothing to do!". "Exactly! Let's make a town. That'll give us something to do". So they did, and there's still nothing to do. It looks like they just make stuff up to do. Is that what real rural is? Just making up something to do, because if you don't, there's nothing to do?
Anyway, I stumbled around Perry tired, wrote yesterday's post tired, and sometime before going to bed, I decided that another 90-mile day tomorrow (today, that is) is out of the question. My new objective would be High Springs at 70 miles and I would finish the ride to Gainesville the following day.
And yet, here I am in Gainesville, writing to you now. I don't have an explanation for it. I woke up tired, shuffled around the room moving stuff closer to the bike for packing. I heated water in the room's microwave and made two cups of Via coffee and got to work finding the very small tube leaks with the water dunk test. I found them both and patched them. My morning routine is getting pretty efficient, so just doing it isn't a sign that any higher brain function is at work.
But as soon as I got on the bike this morning, I felt not tired. The only breakfast restaurant was on my route on the way out of Perry, called Holton Still Sports Bar and Grill. More coffee, a very good omelette and biscuit, and a breakfast burrito to-go for second breakfast. After breakfast, I got on the bike and felt great. I had a bit of a tailwind and I rode fast. I didn't stop for 30 miles, and it dawned on me that I'm getting used to riding, used to the heat, and I'm able to bounce back from a tough day with one decent night's sleep.
I'm riding well and clicked past forty miles when I get a text from Jean Mitchell: "Are you going to sit out today due to weather?"
I had only been paying attention to the heat index, which was well on its way to a high of 97, which I knew would melt me if I stayed out in it too long. At Jean's prompting I looked at the weather radar, not just the weather forecast, and saw what Jean was talking about, a massive, fast moving rain storm, a couple hundred miles long, reeling me in from the west.
This was weirdly motivating. I realized that if I got a move on it and pushed, my path towards Gainesville would take me southeast and I could dodge the storm. If I dilly-dallied and held at High Springs I would have to stop and take some cover from the lightening. So I pushed.
At fifty miles for the day, I knew I could cycle right through High Springs and make it to Gainesville today. I booked a non-refundable hotel room near the University of Florida, as insurance that I wouldn't wimp out, pounded a bunch of Gatorade and kept my pace up. At some point I checked my weather app and it said I was in the hottest part of the day and the heat index was 97. Just three days ago, I couldn't function in this temperature. Now I'm chewing up the miles in it. I now have my fast-rolling tire back on my rear wheel. You wouldn't think a tire could make that much difference, but this one does. It is noticeably faster.
As I said, I can't explain it, but today turned out to be one of my strongest riding days of the whole trip, logging 94.11 miles. By making Gainesville, I am now a full day ahead of schedule.
Credit to Jean— "Will I sit out the weather?" No, I'm going for it!
The riding is suddenly gamified. There are tactics, predictions, and a consequence to be experienced if I get it wrong. Beating the weather became very motivating. So thanks, Jean. I had to find cover for one serious downpour, but I dodged all the others.
Tomorrow is a recovery day in Gainesville. I'll clean and inspect the bike and see if I can get that spoke tightened so it doesn't creak with each turn of the wheel. I'll write some thinking blogs and get them posted, so watch for those. Looking ahead, I have a quandary that I have not had crossing the whole country, which is having more days left to complete the mileage than I need to finish at Cape Canaveral. I may take some detours, like ride to St. Augustine up the coast to see where the official Adventure Cycling Association Southern Tier Route ends. I may sit in the sun. I have an amazingly awful bicyclist's tan, with dark legs, forearms, fingertips, face and neck, while everything else is albino.
The trip is changing me.
When I started, way back in California, I told Joan that I was really just a 50 mile-a-day rider pushing to do 75 miles a day. Now, I'm easily a 75 mile-a-day rider who can ramp it up to 100+ whenever that is necessary.
So don't look for a RIde Blog post from me tomorrow, but see if any new Thinking Blogs are up. Oh, and it's time for me to say thank you for following my journey. Knowing you are reading, and hearing now and then from you, is tremendously motivating. I'm looking forward to getting home and putting what I have learned to work. Hopefully this trip makes some improvements in me. I know there was a lot that could use some improving, and it's happening, mile by mile.
I’d love to hear from you. Donate to the ride and send along your words of encouragement and tell me why getting kids outside matters to you.
