Day Forty-Seven
The most important thing first: The Starliner launch at Kennedy Space Center has been pushed from May 21 to May 25. This means there is no way I can see it (I'll be out of the area) so I cannot contort the ride schedule to get to the Cape two days early to watch the launch. Disappointing? For a nanosecond. Because today was super hard, and I don't think I can keep the breakneck pace up, though for a rocket launch I was compelled to try. Whew! Off the hook.
Second most important thing: this push did get me out of some nasty weather, which is passing to the north, just barely. Technically, Perry, FL, where I am tonight, is under a tornado watch. But the real action is to the north, where another mother of a storm system is blowing through, flooding streams, downing trees and, I presume, whisking mobile homes skyward in tornados. I could see the ominous clouds to the north from here, but they aren't here in Perry. I'll see some rain tomorrow, but no tornados.
It IS hot, at least for me. The heat index hit 91 today while I was still on the road. I know that's not hot-hot, just hot, but keep in mind, the week before I left for this trip I was shoveling snow in Missoula in a t-shirt. That's my acclimatization. For a guy from up north, this is very hot. I could feel myself wilting today as the afternoon wore on. I was nourished and well hydrated, I just slowly ran out of gas. Miles 70-87 were the hardest. The last seven miles, after I had some peanuts and pounded the last of my Gatorade, felt good, because it was the final stretch. For the life of me, I don't know where that final burst of energy comes from but it always does. I finished strong at 93.33 miles pedaled today.
There is not much to say about today's ride. I started as the morning deluge was slowing down. I waited the requisite time following the longest thunder peal I've ever heard. The lightning flashed horizontally across the sky close enough to reach out and touch, The noise started almost instantly, and just kept rumbling and rumbling, right overhead. It was good to wait that one out. Soon I got underway. I didn't want to wait too long, because each moment of delay in the morning has to be served at the end of the day, when it's super hot.
I'm having tire issues again. With the Bontrager brand of tubes, I've had two seam splits and three leaky valve stems. These are not puncture issues, these are manufacturing defects. I'm steering clear of that brand. Still, I can't be sure that with all this coastal riding, I may have gotten sand inside the tire casing, or the valve stems, so I switched rear tires, going back to my light and fast Rene Herse supple tire. I think with these great, smooth, Florida roads, this tire will be fine. here. Also, the Continental Terra Speed tire I installed on the rear wheel in San Antonio is amazingly beaten up. I knew this tire is made of a soft rubber, more for hard pack dirt and gravel, not pavement, but I am shocked at how many slices and cuts are in the treads of the Terra Speed. and the treads are already worn down, since central Texas. A very soft tire. Anyway, my rear tube has a slow leak and so does my spare tube, and I could not find the holes along side of the road today, on either tube. So tonight I'll pump and dunk them and the bubbles should guide me. Even if I find an patch these leaks, I'll find a bike shop in Gainesville and replace my tubes.
Today's ride was 93 miles of straight, excellent roads, through endless pine forests and alongside swamps. Any mile could have been any other mile. It's an interesting contrast: total rural country, and perfect pavement forever. My thinking is that Florida has invested in roads to ensure they can get people out of hurricane paths in a hurry. It's not just good pavement, either. Beyond the smooth lanes and shoulders, all the roads have sloped, constantly mown "side yards", and are well above well-maintained drainage ditches. I am guessing this is to ensure that trees that fall during a storm don't fall into the roadway, and huge volumes of water always has somewhere to go to keep the driving surface clear of standing water. The whole countryside here seems to have ways to get out, fast.
So, I just rode today, from start on to finish off on my mileage app, for nearly 11 hours. Monotony suggests boredom, but I was never bored. Much. The country is green and pretty. I can see why people get attached to it and figure out how to put up with the hot and sticky atmosphere.
Tomorrow, since there is no rocket launch to scramble to see, I can dial it back to about 70 miles. 70 is much easier than 90+, because those last 20+ miles come in the hottest part of the day, when I am fading. I can handle the heat for a few hours, but not all afternoon and into the evening. So tomorrow, assuming a smooth day equipment-wise, I'll be off the road well before 3:00 PM. It's going to rain some tomorrow, but nothing Biblical, and a light rain in these temperatures is pleasant.
I should mention that I am within 350 miles of finishing the trip. This can be a dangerous part of a major adventure. It is so easy to start looking ahead to the finish and overlook the fact that 350 miles is still a long way to go, and there are so many things to miss or not understand the importance of, and get whacked as a result of inattention, in 350 miles. Coming off a summit, or through the last few bends of a whitewater trip, is not the time to stop paying attention. As long as I am still wearing safety gear (lights, a neon shirt, and a helmet, in this case) I need to ride every mile with attention to that mile. And I'm tired. Compromised. My rear wheel has a bad spoke. The bottom bracket started creaking today. My disc brakes screech. These tires continue to vex. And I'm wearing down too. In fact, even my decision to just let the bike complain and squeak because I'm almost done is a sign that I'm tired and lowering my standards. As a matter of fact, I need the bike to work as well on the last mile of this trip as the first. What I should really do in Gainesville is get into a bike shop and get all of this stuff fixed. That's the right thing to do. We'll see if I have the energy and conviction to do it. Tonight, I say, let it creak. I'm going to bed.
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.
