Mud, sweat, and tears.

It was the first day of riding for me. I didn’t have high expectations for setting any records. So, when Lydia asked the dreaded question after our daily devotional and instructions- “Who wants to sweep?” all remained typically silent. It’s a strange tradition I have yet to fully understand. Nobody wants to sweep, meaning nobody wants to volunteer to be the last rider in for the day. The “sweeps” attend to the slowest riders, or flats, or whatever situation causes a few to fall behind.

I volunteered. Arron, another first day rider and my riding buddy from last year opted to join me. Trail conditions were so bad, and some riders so green, it took three hours to go the first 20 miles. The trail had been under water in spots, so was covered with a slippery silt that made it necessary to walk the bikes on higher ground (if there was any). We we had to ride through a lot of the slurry, so everyone was fully muddied.

The day grew hotter. The general “requirement” of riders is to maintain a minimum average of 12 miles per hour, and many times we were under 10. Arron and another rider had to drop out at 60 miles. Conceding "defeat" can be an emotional moment for some. I was left with Diane to sweep with, and at the 71 mile point was about to collapse from the heat, so had to drop out. Diane is hardcore, so insisted on finishing. Our support stalwart, Tom Weber, being the gentleman he is, insisted Diane not ride solo, so pedaled my bike the last 20 miles while I rode in the support vehicle. Yes, you read that right- Geezerman rode my bike! Ok, for those of you not veteran riders of the FCBA that might not mean a lot, but the value of a bike graced by his derriere is double! No matter that it's virtually worthless and not at all likely to even be stolen (I’ve “tricked” it out into a rolling joke, and not really a funny one at that), I'm honored. Then again, Tom has a pink bike, so obviously he’s not too particular.

So, it was my first time ever not finishing. I’m good with that.

Thank you for your support in my fundraising efforts. 

Bike lag

I arose at 0500; I work late so usually when a clock reads that it’s because I’m struggling to fall asleep; now I’m struggling to wake up. I could have stayed in bed a few more hours, but my world is about to turn upside-down.

Last night I got word from Kert that they are anticipating my arrival and that they’ve picked up my bike from the mail drop already. I joked with him to go ahead and open up my box and assemble it. Man, that would be nice. As it is I have that to do tonight, as well as install a new crank/chainring set that I ordered to replace the nubby-toothed old rings I shipped it with. I was hoping to get one more trip out of this bike, but during one of my last rides in preparation for this my chain slipped every time I put any real pressure on the down stroke. I’ve been shopping for parts a long time, hesitating making any investment in ASsTROBLASTER, for a set of rings can be costly. Well, God smiled upon me and during my last shopping session a week ago presented to me a direct replacement part from some overstock jobber; three chainrings with crankset offered at $34.

I really try to keep expenses on these trips to a minimum, minding the Fuller Center motto “Living simply, so others can simply live.” This is my first year actually conforming to the suggested list of gear. No blender. No spyglass. No tools, no formal attire for the captain’s banquet. Ok, so I’m trying to conform. I did pack an air mattress, for these old bones leave dents in the church floors if I use the pads provided. I did splurge and buy a replacement rolling duffel bag, for while (again) mending the seams on my old one I just thought it worthwhile. So off to Walmart I went and found the same model that has served me so well. The old one was branded “Jeep” but now it’s “Coleman”, and obviously made in the same Chinese sweatshop. For $42 it fulfills my purpose of being my home for a spell. One nice feature they include with Walmart luggage purchases is pre-TSA screening: first, the cashier rifled through every cranny before approving the purchase, and then Charley (you know, “Checkpoint Charley” as you try to leave) looked through the nooks. I don’t know what the TSA pays their lackeys, but Walmart is thrice thorough for a third the price. Fortunately I was spared the “please follow me” into a room as the guy snapped a blue glove on. Walmart is tough.

My flight leaves before noon and takes another five before destination. It’s going to be a long day. I have a lot of long days, and short nights, ahead. It reminds me of going to China, when I turned my clock upside-down and it took three weeks to adjust. I should be used to this about the time I get back home.

CRANKY!

At MCO: Did I mention I’m not a morning person? I haven’t even boarded my delayed flight and they’re announcing another delay, waiving the cattle prods to remind us to be ready to board at their whim. I’m feeling cranky. It’s probably good my crank is in checked luggage, or it could get ugly.

Purpose Quest

This is my last hour at DisneyQuest until I return a month from now. Monday I will leave for Indianapolis where I will join my FCBA family. They have completed 7 of the 10 weeks of this year’s cross-country adventure. I’ve been following their blog  and Facebook posts, and they have had quite a time of it. It isn’t outwardly apparent from the writing, but my FCBA veteran eyes can read between the lines to see the mountains and valleys of chronic fatigue and pain the elements inflict on the body, as well as the overwhelming joy of camaraderie, hospitality, and beauty this experience has to offer.

Many express their initial motivation for such an undertaking as purely selfish, but in short order find impetus from the essence of the cause. What starts as a personal quest to traverse the continent by bicycle suddenly becomes a much greater purpose. Despite meticulous, almost infinite planning, we experience far beyond anything anticipated. Not so much from the endless miles, but from going into the communities along the way to lend help, only to find we receive more than we can ever give.

My bike I renamed "ASsTROBLASTER" in reference to Buzz Lightyear's game, and the pain I typically experience during these long rides. Asstroblaster has been shipped ahead, with a bit of "Toy Story" paraphernalia. I'm not sure what theme I'm going for here, but to quote Buzz, "To Infinity, and BEYOND!"
       Ok, so it's just Indianapolis to Portland.

Thank you for your help toward my fundraising goal.