OhIndianIllinoiowa

Say that one aloud.

But seriously, these states are running together. In the last three days, I've ridden 76, 85, and 92 miles, averaging about 18 mph. I've pushed my body harder than I had previously, trying to maintain paces of 23/4 over 10-13 miles at a time, sometimes with others, sometimes by myself, and that's an enjoyable diversion, but overall, riding bikes through cornfields is about as exciting as it sounds. It's meditative, and, as Terra says, you can just "put it on autopilot, put your head down, and go," but I can't do that for too long without nearly falling asleep on my bike. There isn't even anything fun to see out here. Just roadkill, and a headwind.

That said, our hosts have been ridiculously generous, and we've just biked into Lafayette, Indiana, and our first OFFICIAL rest day-- we'll hang out in town tomorrow, with no responsibilities, and then get out of town the next day. Lafayette's home to Purdue U, and a cool bike shop where I picked up some bulletproof tires and some cushy gloves. I also found out that my chain's "nearly dead," but so's my cassette (rear gears) and it's better if I just "wear them down to they die." I love bike mechanics. Especially smarmy ones. I get the feeling they'll "die" on the side of the road in Nebraska. That'll be cool.

Last night we had a great dinner in Hartford City, Indiana, where I came up with the ideal biking food: a bread bowl, filled with mashed potatoes, and topped with chicken 'n gravy. And then, today at lunch, I came up with the other ideal biking food: a triple-decker french-toast sandwich, stuffed with peanut butter and bacon. Nate added popcorn for crunch. I like the way he thinks.

That's all for now-- I'm sharing wi-wi, and don't have much else to say about OhIndianIllinoIowa. More to come tomorrow.

Love to all.

Gambier, OH--> Columbus, OH. 52.3 Miles. 17.4 mph average.

Well, today marks our third official build day, here in Columbus, Ohio. Ohio, according to the locals, is round on the sides and HI in the middle. I’m convinced that everyone here looks like Drew Carey, making them round on the sides and wide in the middle.

Just kidding. So far our time here has been quite idyllic, and has been marked by a few surprises. They are, in no particular order:

Derrick, our compatriot who was yanked off the trip due to a seemingly intractable broken pelvis, has rejoined the group and will ride the rest of the way with us just two weeks after he fell off his bike, going 30, down a hill. We are all in awe of his tolerance for pain. I'm convinced he's just cultivated a masochistic streak from his time on UVA's crew team.

Nate got hit by a car. An hour and a half ago. But he's fine, and the 17-year-old-girl-who-cut-him-off-in-traffic's dad gave him a hundo for any bike repairs he might need. Mildly sketchy, but we're all entirely relieved that he's alive and unharmed. His bike tire's tacoed, but that's fixable. According to witnesses, his first words upon rising from the asphalt were "My arm hurts. Shit, my bike's jacked up." Or something like that.

Other than those unwelcome surprises, the last three days have been marked by some stupendous rides and luxurious accommodations, including couches and beds (gasp!), fresh fruit, cheesecake, cheapo/delicious Amish cuisine, and North Carolinian BBQ (thanks to the Rhynes!), friendly locals, the gorgeous Kenyon campus (shoutout to Emily), and an idyllic hour in a pool outside of Columbus, a few hours ago. I'm in good spirits, although a bit grumpy thanks to a crappy 95-degree ride through rush-hour traffic into Columbus, marked by Nate's lil' accident, irate drivers, dozens of stop lights, and an anonymous passenger who decided to throw a 3" chunk of metal at me from his window as he drove by. We're here at the JCC now, though, safe and cool and clean, and we're about to leave for a triple-A minor-league ballgame-- the Columbus Clippers vs. the Indianapolis Indians. Tomorrow we're building here, staying another night, and getting out of town again.







Love to all.

Borderline

Franklin, Pennsylvania is an amazing little town. We’ve been here for two days now, and both of them have been memorable. Two days ago we coasted down from the Allegheny National Forest and the Kinzua Reservoir to Warren, PA in sun-drenched 75-degree weather, and we’ve been basking in it ever since. Yesterday, we rode from Warren to Franklin (which is weird to me, given that I knew a kid in grade school named, of course, Warren Franklin… just realizing that now…) and met up half way with Sam Gibb, the pastor of Franklin’s First Presbyterian Church. Sam is about 45-50, I think, and rides about 40-50 miles a day on a ridiculously cool Cervelo bike (the same one that CSC rides). All the girls agree that he possesses a “Paul Newman” look. He kicked all of our asses up some pretty monster (12% grade) hills, and is going to France this summer to ride the Tour de France route with some friends. He’s also a long-time home brewer, loves Phish and all other jam bands, and has a sandwich named after him at the local Subway, where he tries to conduct all of his business during the day. The sandwich is whole wheat with double Monterey Jack cheese, toasted, with all the veggies minus olives and hot peppers, parmesan, garlic salt, oregano, and raspberry vinaigrette. Our vegetarians were, needless to say, rather enthusiastic about the sandwich. I was, and I don’t even like vegetables.

Just kidding.

Basically, I think Pastor Sam’s the man. I gave him some of the amaaaazing Grafton Cheddar we had donated from Wendy Brewer (see pic!) because he’s a vegetarian who loves cheese (needs the protein, obviously) and we talked about Trey Anastasio and different Hop varietals during our group dinner last night (Subway, obviously). And then I told him about Pandora and Wolfgang’s Vault. And for the last two days he’s been fixing/fitting people’s bikes and taking us on rides around the area. And he also let us work on the church’s pseudo-habitat home site in Franklin today because our build day in Youngstown fell through. More on that later…

The moral of all of this description, nay, adulation, is that this trip has really checked my skepticism for organized religion. We keep meeting warm, open, idiosyncratic, hilarious, genuine Pastors, Fathers, Reverends, and churchgoers, and I keep being pleasantly surprised. I know that there are church leaders out there who are dour and pedantic, or stuck in their ways, but we haven’t run into them yet. The closest we came was the priest from Scranton who told us to maintain hope, because it’s what keeps us human. And then told us that the reason he knew that was that, as a Marine in Vietnam, he had to “extract information” from hostages and in order to do that he had to “take away their hope.” It was thanks to this little life experience that he came to understand the value of hope, and he shared this lesson with us at 8am last Sunday, right before our ride.

Even though that speech was a bit, well, off-putting, it was heartfelt, and pretty gnarly. That day I imagined that each hill that day was a hostage and it was my job to “extract information” from it by reaching the top, taking away its hope, and in the process bolstering my own.

Well, not really.

But the fact that this righteous speech was the weirdest thing we’ve heard so far from a church official is a reason for optimism, or hope. Or renewed faith in the institution of religion. I’ve been agnostic for a long time, but only realized that that was the term for it right around the start of college. I don’t need a religious community in order to gain a sense of spirituality, and I don’t need an authority figure to analyze or explain religious texts or dogma on a weekly basis. But over the last coupla weeks (hard to believe two have already gone by!) I’ve lost much of the disdain or mistrust with which I viewed religion before this trip. Except for the evangelicals and most fundamentalists, who still freak me out.



All of that deep stuff aside, Franklin is really nice. And so are Sam and his wife. We lucked out and were given the chance to stay tonight, rather than leaving this morning for Youngstown, because the church here bought a 3-story home and are renovating it, without Habitat’s help, to create more affordable housing in the area. Not that they necessarily need it; the house was had for $12,900 (bargained down from a starting price of $24,000). It was a real junker and needs some work, but it’s a 3-story in a normal part of town. In Brattleboro, it’d probably command $120,000ish, in Providence’s East Side probably twice that. We were supposed to be in Youngstown right now, but the build day tomorrow fell through. They’ve been having trouble pouring their slab, so we would’ve just had a rest day, and many of the riders (all of us) have been grousing about too much Bike-ing and not enough Build-ing in the ol’ Bike & Build equation. So today we got to rip up some shot shingles and tear down attic ceilings and generally create a big mess and cover ourselves in black soot. And Sam treated us to more Subway. And tonight the 21+ crowd got to hang out on Sam's porch and try some of his ridiculously good Pale Ale. And tomorrow we leave bright and early for Youngstown, where we’ll be staying just one night, thankfully.

All in all, I’m in good spirits and in good health, on a beautiful night in a boring laundromat in a quiet town. Doing group laundry SUCKS, but it at least gives me the opportunity to craft an extensive blog entry. Hope you weren’t too bored by this one.

Lots of love from Western PA. We’ll be in Ohio tomorrow!

Some Thoughts.

Today was a quickie, 45 miles start to finish, wayyyy up a hill (a 2,424 ft. hill, to be exact) and then way down it, into the sleepy town of Coudysport (pronounced howdy, sport). We’re staying at the “Alliance” church, which seems to be a new-ish blend of casual, non-denominational religion and community. It’s one of the friendliest churches we’ve been to (and that’s saying a lot) and it also features the only Pastor (Pastor Bernie) to come out and meet us at the bottom of that really, really big hill and ride us into town on his own vintage 18-speed Schwinn.

The day marked our first experience with real headwind, which went something like this:

“Phew, I’m FINALLY done with that hill, now I can coast down this stretch and gain some momentum into the next one.”

-30 feet later-

“Hmm, I appear to be on a downhill, but I’m pedaling steadily and firmly, and my speed is a mere 11 mph.”

-50 feet later-

“I’m on an uphill grade of about 3%, which I was cruising up at 17.5 mph a half hour ago, but right now I’m at… 6 mph, in granny gear, and my legs are burning. This sucks.”

-At the top of the mountain-

“Oh. That’s what a headwind feels like.”

So that’s what a headwind feels like. In the words of the wise Jeff Thomas: “A headwind is like a really long, nasty hill that you ride up all day, without the redemption of a downhill to look forward to.” Or something along those lines. We couldn’t stop talking about it. It was staggering, depressing, humiliating.

On the positive side, we beat the headwind, at least for now. And on the way up the hill (about 10 miles long) I averaged 17.2 mph, and got to dunk my head into the type of mountain stream I thought we only had in Vermont. And, after that punishing headwind bit, we cruised down into “Coudy,” right before a big ol’ thunderhead cruised into town, too.

We showered at the Denton Ski Lodge, which sports “some of the steepest terrain on the East Coast,” which, loosely translated, means “a 66 degree steep,” which is purportedly THE steepest slope in the Northeast. It looked pretty cool. I’ve attached pictures.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the nature of this trip. I think of this blog as a way to communicate, to you (family and friends) a few meaningful or meaningless stories from the road, so you have some idea what we’re going through out here. Before this trip, the darn thing seemed so insurmountable that I was most curious about what the day-to-day motivation would consist of—how riders can get on their bikes, every day for more than two months, and make it that 70, 80, or 90 miles to the next stop. And now I’m figuring it out. And trying to show you.

But there was initially another reason for doing this blog; for myself, for my own memory. I’ve been trying to “journal” (a phrase I hate) but I’m either exhausting my thoughts on this blog or I’m just not in the mood to write it all down by hand. Regardless, I’ve decided recently that I’m not too worried about capturing it all on film and on paper—this trip isn’t about those individual memories, it’s about the overarching experience, and the overall feeling I get at the end of the day. In another entry I mentioned the mini-dramas we go through every minute during the ride. Those all coalesce into one big impression of the day, usually positive. No matter what ridiculous stuff happens during the ride itself, it all washes away when you hit the home stretch and see that final stop. The same thing will happen with this trip.

Where's Dunder-Mifflin?

I'm writing from Scranton, PA. Outside Scranton, PA, in Clark Summit, PA. About 8 miles North of Scranton, PA, actually. Yesterday I had my hardest (fastest) ride yet, from White Lake, NY to Clark Summit-- 74 miles-- in about 4.5 hours of riding. I rode with Logan and Bronwyn, two of the strongest riders on the trip, and we really killed it. My body felt right, although a little tight, and I was mentally prepared for a hard push with the knowledge that we'd have a rest day today. We ad-libbed a lil' bit (including a 4-mile stretch of actual, 80-mph "Motorized Vehicles ONLY" highway) and really attacked the hills above Carbondale. We made it to Our Lady of Snows church at 3:20, about 45 minutes before everybody else, and hit up Manning's Ice Cream, which is apparently some of the best stuff for miles. I had a pint of "Caramel Critter," which may have been too much, but it sure tasted good at the time. Last night we had free pizza (we killed 12 pizzas in about 13 minutes), and then a lot of the 21-plus club went out for a few drinks. It feels good to embrace this absurdly healthy lifestyle, but every once in a while a good, cold beer is completely necessary.

Today we got up late (8:45, wooooo!!!!) and had a car wash to support the local Habitat for Humanity chapter with a youth group from the church from 9-1. It involved a lot of sun and sneak-attacks with the hose, and goofily waving signs along the road leading to the church. We had a purty good system down and washed a lot of cars. The final tally for the day was-- hold on to your hats-- $840. It was far and away the most the youth group had ever raised, and it was also the most I've ever heard about for a simple car wash. Needless to say, we all felt great about it-- it was fun getting to see the community members and cool to meet the kids. I've been walking around the area looking for wireless since then, and it's, well... boring. But nice. We're along a huge commercial strip leading into town, so our surroundings aren't very pedestrian-friendly and it's also really ugly. The church is nice, though, and I got to play piano last night in the main chapel-- beautiful acoustics in there.

The community members we've encountered have been staggeringly friendly; they're generous and so excited to share their towns with us. Every night we're amazed by the sheer volume and variety of the ubiquitous potlucks, and by the enthusiastic conversation and interest in our backgrounds and reasons for undertaking this trip. I've decided that one my favorite experiences is getting to know someone pretty well over dinner, establishing connections and good will for the program for years to come.

So far, the days all seem to stretch out and run together. I've realized that it's because each day is so profoundly full of mini-dramas, of fatigue and recovery, optimism and pessimism, uphills and downhills, conversation and solitude. Each day feels like five days, so the last five days feel like a month or so in the real world. Time telescopes, slinkees, oscillates, when you're on your butt on a bike on the road for a day. I'm still trying to get my head around the whole experience. Two days ago I rode the whole way with Terra (plus/minus a few other riders), and at one point, on a looooong stretch of road that reminded me of Rt. 100 in VT, I paused, then asked her what she was thinking about. Or what she'd been thinking about. And she paused, and then said that she'd been repeating a billboard slogan that she'd seen about 4 miles earlier over and over again, ostensibly emptying her mind of anything else. I hadn't been thinking about anything in particular, either. This trip is an elemental experience in that sense-- despite the hundreds (thousands) of dollars worth of gear that we've got on and around us, all day, and the cell phones and computers and bike odometers and blogs, we're all engaged in a pilgrimage of sorts, one in which we have to listen to our bodies and ignore the minute details. I hardly know what day it is. I hardly know where we're going tomorrow. And I love it.

A loooooooong day

I'm here in Poughkeepsie, New York, in Vassar's cathedral-like library, stealing their internet. I just ran into Emma's roommate Claire, and managed to scare the **** out of her by actually just yelling "Claire!" Luckily, with an introduction, she seemed to relax a little bit. I thought you'd warned her we were coming, Emma...

Yesterday was our longest ride yet, about 74 miles from Agawam, MA to Kent, CT. I rode sweep with Nate, which was nice for a long while-- lazily bringing up the rear for all the other riders, hanging out at Dunkin' Donuts and a beautiful park in Suffield (which has some ridiculous houses...) and generally enjoying conversation with Nate at the back o' the pack.

But then we hit the hills.

The combined vertical for the day was more than 6000', including one hill that stretched on for about 3 miles. I can handle hills. In fact, I really enjoy 'em. But at 4 mph, they rapidly get frustrating. I didn't even know that you could stay on a bike going 4 mph. Nate and I practiced our pedaling (circles, rather than pushing down), pedaling one-footed, and would take periodic bike-maintenance breaks to let the stragglers get out in front of us. At 4 pm (when we were supposed to be in Kent) we were 27 miles away. And working our way up a monster hill.
We sheltered on the porch of a lake house in Cornwall during a torrential thunderstorm (luckily, it passed) and then pressed onward, with the OK from our leaders. Finally, we were 10 miles away, tearing down a great hill, and I started to feel the terrain through my seat a little bit more than normal. I thought it was just rougher pavement. Then I scoped out my back tire, to find that it'd been deflating for about 200 yards. I stopped at the bottom, watching everyone cruise on up the coming hill, and busied myself changing my tire.

At this point in the day, I was running out of juice, and so was my phone. I didn't want to be stuck in the middle of rural CT, and I didn't know what to expect. The sweepers, after all, don't have their own sweepers. Anyways. I changed my first tire, avoiding panic, and cranked up the hill to find, to my joy, Nate, Elle, and Win, all waiting for me and chatting with a volunteer fireman. Everything was in order, and we cruised the last dozen-or-so miles down into Kent, along rolling hills and verdant pasture. We were greeted, at 6:45, by cheers and hamburgers at The Kent School (their campus is nicer than Brown's, I swear...) and I took out my somewhat-pent-up frustration in a game of Frisbee w/ Amelia, Logan, and Nate. I'm glad I rode sweep, but I don't want to do it again for a lil' while.

Today, on the other hand, was short (32 mi.) and sweet (one gnarly uphill and then miles of cruisers into the Hudson River Valley). We left Kent at 9 or so and made it into Po-town by noon. I like riding fast, I like feeling my muscles burn, I like pushing myself to make it up the hill without stopping. And this is really (really) beautiful country.

We're heading over to another part of Poughkeepsie now, to St Martin's church, on Mansion Street. Apparently, Mansion St's sort of a misnomer, as it's in one of the most impoverished areas of the city, but... life's funny sometimes.

Over 'n out, thanks for reading, and thanks for your comments-- they make me smile.
'Til later...

-S

A pain in the ass, a smile on the face.

Well, it's been two days and 89 miles, and we've reached Agawam, Massachusetts. We're staying this evening at the home of one of our leader's parents. Well, in the yard of the home of one of our leader's parents, in 6-person (aka 8-person) tents. I have far too much to say about the last two days-- the dread of approaching hills, the joy of conquering them, the 10-feet-ahead rule for absurd inclines (pick a spot, ride to it, then pick another spot and ride to that, then pick another...). I rode from Providence to Connecticut-- it's relatively amazing to say that, even though the distance isn't actually that great. I also found out that the highest point in Rhode Island is 812 feet. And that Chamois cream (butt-butter, which promotes friction-free riding in the crotchular region) is one of, if not the exclusive, best ideas ever. And that, after 42 miles of riding, I can eat a triple cheeseburger and large fries, and then 2 hours after that have a half chicken, potato salad, and 8 watermelon slices. And that an inch of Thermarest is like 8 inches of goose-down when you're beat.

Tomorrow me and Nate (a recent U. Florida grad) are riding "sweep," which means we get to bring up the rear, ensuring that no rider goes unaccounted for. It's a 67 mile day into the Appalachian mountains, so the slow pace will be a welcome respite from the last two days. There are a lotta fit people on this trip, so I've been pushed hard, and I like it. That said, Nate and I are psyched for a long, slow ride through Western Mass.

I hit 42.3 mph today. And averaged 14.4 over the course of the day. And had the juiciest pb 'n j of my life. And an apple, covered in peanut butter, covered in potato chips. Which was delectable.

Riding over the Connecticut river today, I grew intensely exhilarated, nearly to the point of tears. That doesn't happen easily. I think it was my association of the Connecticut with Brattleboro, and the knowledge that the same water had passed home earlier that day. It's such a broad, beautiful expanse, and crossing it was... perfect. My body felt right (sore and tight, but well-aligned and solidly worked), I was a few miles from our stopping point, and my belly was full of banana, apple, Vitamin Water, and peanut-butter glue. Even though it was exhilarating, I think I'm homesick. A week wasn't enough. But that will pass, I guess. I miss you guys.

More to come later, including longer posts. I'm kinda beat at the moment. Love to all.

-S

An Amazing Idea

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/england/6736969.stm

not gonna lie, we may have to reproduce this, at some point, during our 4000 mile ride. i'm just saying.

I just got orientated!

Started the day with a free breakfast at Louis, and then headed back for a series of talks on bike safety and bike maintenance. I wiped out during the "on-the-road" section of the bike safety course, because I forgot that my right foot was still clipped in. I've decided to call that move "lawn darting." It's my new, least favorite feeling: the knowledge that you're falling, slowly and inexorably, attached to a pointy metal object, onto gritty pavement. I got a chain tattoo on my right calf, and skinned my left knee for the first of many times. Luckily it didn't hurt too much.

Our bike maintenance clinic was conducted overlooking Providence from Prospect Park (a supremely beautiful day, perfect for the spot) and the REI bike technician fixed my front derailleur fo' free. Then we had a 10-15 mile "shakedown" ride on the East Bay Bike Path, and it appears that everyone's bikes are working well.

Today we worked in Olneyville on last year's P2S Habitat house, and I spent a lotta time Sawzalling (it's a verb, trust me) out window openings before they Tyveked (also a verb) the exterior of the first floor. It rained a lot, and my Carhartts soaked up about 20 lbs of water, but it felt good to get out there and work with the rest of the P2S'ers and some Habitat veterans. Tonight we've got more presentations, and we leave bright'n early from Providence after dipping our tires in the Atlantic.

More to come soon. In the meantime, check www.bikeandbuild.org for some pics from orientation/building. I'm not in many/any of them, but that's prolly for the best.

First Entry

I'm leaving for Providence momentarily-- I've got a big bag full of bike gear, a shiny Trek 1000, and sore quads. And I can't wait. Thanks to all who have supported me in my fundraising, and to my family for supporting me in every other way. I'll update shortly, but I'm glad to kick this off today.