Sunrise at the Grand Canyon.
The paramedic students we went to Applebee's with in Roswell.
Endless mountain climbs.
Getting stranded on a massive downhill on I-40 with a flat tire, no tubes, while I was sweep and my sweep buddy was miles ahead of me.
Riding through the flooded fields in Illinois.
Roden crater.
Bible verses on billboards.
Dealing with my fear of lightening.
Impromptou dance parties in front of famous landmarks.
Meeting future Habitat homeowners.
Biking in and out of Palo Duro canyon. Voluntarily.
The endless valley on the day into Pietown but making it because of Kyle M. and Lynn.
Roadside peeing.
Cornfields. Wheat fields. Pastures. Feedlots. The smell of feedlots.
My inability to keep a pair of sunglasses.
Hose showers.
The first California farmstand after the desert.
Days without stoplights.
Being in the middle of nowhere.
What we talk about when we're riding in the middle of nowhere.
The terribleness of headwinds.
Skinny dipping in Oklahoma.
The days when I really really really didn't want to ride anymore.
Route 66.
Superhero day (there was underwear over spandex! And fake mustaches!).
Falling in the parking lot in Boston and worrying that I would never make it cross country.
Slowly realizing that I was going to make it cross country.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Sunday, August 24, 2008
viva las vegas
So, I know I'm giving you the oldest excuse in the business: my computer wrote my blog entry. But it's true! I wrote the best, most thorough entry about the day into Las Vegas. It wrote all about the rumours that we couldn't find a host in Vegas, our excitement upon learning that, in fact, all our leaders are dirty liars (well we'd known that since Illinois) and we were getting the ultimate hook-up: free rooms in the Imperial Palace on the strip.
Then, I had a long description about the absolute awfullness what was our ride into Kingman, AZ, the stop before Vegas. The short version is as follows. We had a choice between 95 miles on I-40 (incredibly boring, lidden with tire-puncturing debris, ungodly amount of climbing) or 110 miles on old route 66 (less climbing! less debris! one third of an ironman!). We picked the second option. The day before my front tire bit the dust (not literally... well it always kind of is biting the dust literally), so Jo lent me one of her recently switched out armadillos. Now, Jo didn't get a single flat this whole summer. I figured with Jo's tire, I'd be golden.
I got a flat on my front tire around mile 15. The rest of the morning and early afternoon were relatively uneventful: generally downhill, hot, threatening thunder showers, some beautiful scenery. Second lunch was in the parking lot of a zoo which contained animals rescued from abusive owners (such as a panther and a cow). The afternoon was worse: hot, windy, and endless. Then Lynn and I got lost in Kingman, just in time to be hit by a duststorm -- I'm serious, a full-on Grapes of Wrath style dust storm. I freaked out a bit. Ok, maybe a lot. Luckily, Skip rescued us in the van and drove us the last three miles to the church. And by church, I mean tiny little house next to the church where there also wasn't enough dinner. After switching Jo's tire for a brand new Armadillo that Hilary kindly bought for me, I passed out under a table.
I wasn't very happy the next morning. I don't think any of us were. We were exhausted, in the desert, and facing another 100+ mile day that had some serious climbing at the end. Jorge, as always, managed to save the mood, giving us one of the best motivating speeches ever. When we rolled out I was feeling pretty optimistic and spent a wonderful morning riding through a desert valley with Lynn, singing Jason Mraz and Smash Mouth at the top of our lungs.
After lunch I ended up riding with Jane and Emma, two people who I hadn't gotten to ride with much during the trip. We hit the beginning of the climb just as it started to get hotter. The landscape was unlike anything we'd encountered before: jagged gray mountains with absolutely no plants or water or really anything. It looked a bit like Mars; probably because, as Emma pointed out, they must film all the Mars movies here. At the top of the climb, we passed through a security checkpoint (oooh, thanks homeland security) before beginning a harrowing descent to the Hoover Dam that involved dissapearing shoulders, slippery gravel, and speeding traffic. Our reward? 120 degree heat and a really big dam. As we crossed the dam we ran into Kyle R. and Lenny, usually two of the faster riders, who'd spent the morning hanging around the dam (eating lots of dam burgers and dam fries, no doubt). We posed for some photos with them on the dam and at the Nevada state line before they left us in the dust climbing out of the dam. Emma started feeling sick so Jane and I waited with her in some shade for a bit before we all continued on.
I actually really enjoyed the climb out of the dam. It was really really hot and the road was pretty narrow, but the opposing lane of traffic was at a standstill because of traffic slowing over the dam, and the looks on the drivers faces as we rode by made me feel pretty dam hardcore. Towards the end of the climb the van passed us, and Emma, who looked and felt miserable, wisely got in. While she and Jose loaded her bike I climbed into the van to enjoy the marvelous air conditioning (and left a trail of dirty sweat on the door. eeew). Then, Jane and I pushed on, finally finishing the climb. When we got to the beginning of our descent into we could see a giant storm cloud covering the city. Well less a cloud than just a giant black thing with lightening occasionally flying out of it. I was pretty excited about the end of the heat. Then, riding into the city, the wind began to blow. And blow hard. To avoid being pushed off the road or into traffic, Jane and I finally stopped and took cover under the awning of a casino. Fitting huh? A half hour or so later the storm cleared enough for us to continue into Vegas. If only that was it.
As we rode, the pavement got wet from the rain we'd missed. Then, there were puddles. And then there were more puddles. We found ourselves in the middle of a flash flood, as foot-deep water rushed across the road. I am so glad I was with Jane, because alone, I would have just called it a day. But she pressed on through the water, around the stopped cars, and I just clung onto her wheel, following her through the chaos. And it was chaos: it must not rain this much in Vegas ever. All around us were stopped and stalled cars, dazed pedestrians, general madness. We must have looked absolutely crazy -- which I have to say, we must have been. When we finally got to the strip, we were soaked and splattered with muddy water, and I was so exhausted, I almost couldn't take in the lights and craziness around me. But suddenly I realized: I am riding my bike down the Vegas strip, past the casinos and the tourist, after riding 105 miles through the desert and the mountains and that f-ing flood to get here! I am so badass!
Then I fell smack on the ground in front of the Flamingo. One block from our hotel. Ouch. It was bruising, both for my legs, and my ego. But I'm glad to say I got back on my bike and rode, slowly, to our hotel.
We'd had big plans for all the crazy things we'd do in Vegas. But after a shower and a giant meal at the buffet, all I could do was fall asleep in my glorious glorious bed. The next morning, I found myself wide awake, as normal, at 4:30 am, so I took a walk up and down the strip, past the casinos themed to look like a pirate ship, or a cleaned up Venice. I was definitely the only person I saw who'd already slept, and slept over eight hours at that. After weeks in the peaceful, deserted, desert, the lights of Vegas just seemed bizarre. We went to a build site that day, and after, walked around some of the other casinos. I'm glad, I guess, that we went to Vegas, because now I never need to go back there ever again.
Then, I had a long description about the absolute awfullness what was our ride into Kingman, AZ, the stop before Vegas. The short version is as follows. We had a choice between 95 miles on I-40 (incredibly boring, lidden with tire-puncturing debris, ungodly amount of climbing) or 110 miles on old route 66 (less climbing! less debris! one third of an ironman!). We picked the second option. The day before my front tire bit the dust (not literally... well it always kind of is biting the dust literally), so Jo lent me one of her recently switched out armadillos. Now, Jo didn't get a single flat this whole summer. I figured with Jo's tire, I'd be golden.
I got a flat on my front tire around mile 15. The rest of the morning and early afternoon were relatively uneventful: generally downhill, hot, threatening thunder showers, some beautiful scenery. Second lunch was in the parking lot of a zoo which contained animals rescued from abusive owners (such as a panther and a cow). The afternoon was worse: hot, windy, and endless. Then Lynn and I got lost in Kingman, just in time to be hit by a duststorm -- I'm serious, a full-on Grapes of Wrath style dust storm. I freaked out a bit. Ok, maybe a lot. Luckily, Skip rescued us in the van and drove us the last three miles to the church. And by church, I mean tiny little house next to the church where there also wasn't enough dinner. After switching Jo's tire for a brand new Armadillo that Hilary kindly bought for me, I passed out under a table.
I wasn't very happy the next morning. I don't think any of us were. We were exhausted, in the desert, and facing another 100+ mile day that had some serious climbing at the end. Jorge, as always, managed to save the mood, giving us one of the best motivating speeches ever. When we rolled out I was feeling pretty optimistic and spent a wonderful morning riding through a desert valley with Lynn, singing Jason Mraz and Smash Mouth at the top of our lungs.
After lunch I ended up riding with Jane and Emma, two people who I hadn't gotten to ride with much during the trip. We hit the beginning of the climb just as it started to get hotter. The landscape was unlike anything we'd encountered before: jagged gray mountains with absolutely no plants or water or really anything. It looked a bit like Mars; probably because, as Emma pointed out, they must film all the Mars movies here. At the top of the climb, we passed through a security checkpoint (oooh, thanks homeland security) before beginning a harrowing descent to the Hoover Dam that involved dissapearing shoulders, slippery gravel, and speeding traffic. Our reward? 120 degree heat and a really big dam. As we crossed the dam we ran into Kyle R. and Lenny, usually two of the faster riders, who'd spent the morning hanging around the dam (eating lots of dam burgers and dam fries, no doubt). We posed for some photos with them on the dam and at the Nevada state line before they left us in the dust climbing out of the dam. Emma started feeling sick so Jane and I waited with her in some shade for a bit before we all continued on.
I actually really enjoyed the climb out of the dam. It was really really hot and the road was pretty narrow, but the opposing lane of traffic was at a standstill because of traffic slowing over the dam, and the looks on the drivers faces as we rode by made me feel pretty dam hardcore. Towards the end of the climb the van passed us, and Emma, who looked and felt miserable, wisely got in. While she and Jose loaded her bike I climbed into the van to enjoy the marvelous air conditioning (and left a trail of dirty sweat on the door. eeew). Then, Jane and I pushed on, finally finishing the climb. When we got to the beginning of our descent into we could see a giant storm cloud covering the city. Well less a cloud than just a giant black thing with lightening occasionally flying out of it. I was pretty excited about the end of the heat. Then, riding into the city, the wind began to blow. And blow hard. To avoid being pushed off the road or into traffic, Jane and I finally stopped and took cover under the awning of a casino. Fitting huh? A half hour or so later the storm cleared enough for us to continue into Vegas. If only that was it.
As we rode, the pavement got wet from the rain we'd missed. Then, there were puddles. And then there were more puddles. We found ourselves in the middle of a flash flood, as foot-deep water rushed across the road. I am so glad I was with Jane, because alone, I would have just called it a day. But she pressed on through the water, around the stopped cars, and I just clung onto her wheel, following her through the chaos. And it was chaos: it must not rain this much in Vegas ever. All around us were stopped and stalled cars, dazed pedestrians, general madness. We must have looked absolutely crazy -- which I have to say, we must have been. When we finally got to the strip, we were soaked and splattered with muddy water, and I was so exhausted, I almost couldn't take in the lights and craziness around me. But suddenly I realized: I am riding my bike down the Vegas strip, past the casinos and the tourist, after riding 105 miles through the desert and the mountains and that f-ing flood to get here! I am so badass!
Then I fell smack on the ground in front of the Flamingo. One block from our hotel. Ouch. It was bruising, both for my legs, and my ego. But I'm glad to say I got back on my bike and rode, slowly, to our hotel.
We'd had big plans for all the crazy things we'd do in Vegas. But after a shower and a giant meal at the buffet, all I could do was fall asleep in my glorious glorious bed. The next morning, I found myself wide awake, as normal, at 4:30 am, so I took a walk up and down the strip, past the casinos themed to look like a pirate ship, or a cleaned up Venice. I was definitely the only person I saw who'd already slept, and slept over eight hours at that. After weeks in the peaceful, deserted, desert, the lights of Vegas just seemed bizarre. We went to a build site that day, and after, walked around some of the other casinos. I'm glad, I guess, that we went to Vegas, because now I never need to go back there ever again.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
aliens, hippies, and hypothermia
Since my last update, our merry band has been flying across the Southwest. First, New Mexico, or as I called it, the state of plagues. First, there was extreme heat as we rode into Roswell. A sign around mile 20 proclaimed "last food and fuel for 65 miles." While 65 miles would only take an hour in a car, it's a long time on a bike. Luckily, Jose kept us fed and watered with numerous van stops. Then, from Roswell to Corizozo we faced extreme cold. Well not, extreme cold, but 60 degrees and rainy is really cold when you're riding all day in a jersey and shorts. The day from Corizozo to Socorro we were graced by a violent thunder and lightening storm. It wasn't until I found myself crouched in a ditch while the rest of the riders debated what to do that I realized that I am terrified of lightening. Then, a woman drove up and told us to get out of the ditch because of flash floods. So we rode through the storm, which ended up not being so bad. The next day was the day of extreme altitude: we climbed 4,000 feet in one day and I discovered that you actually can bike enough altitude to give you altitude sickness. Thankfully, the next day we crossed into Arizona and the biking was pretty smooth (despite the bits of wire and glass covering the sides of I-40 giving us tons and tons of flats).
Despite all the craziness, New Mexico and Arizona have been my favorite parts of the trip so far. We had a day off in Roswell where I got to go to the alien museum (eh) and eat some delicious Mexican food (yay). The rides through the mountains in New Mexico were absolutely beautiful, as have been the desert rides in Arizona. We biked past the Very Large Array and the painted desert. We've also had great hosts. Pietown, New Mexico -- a town of 60 people straddling the continental divide -- went all out for us. They made us a huge dinner, lots of pie, and let us stay in the amazing 'Toaster House,' which had toasters hanging around the entryway, and tons of other cool artwork around. Two days later, we were in Houck, a town on the edge of the Navajo reservation, where our hosts made us 'Navajo Tacos' -- tacos with frybread instead of tortillas -- and taught us a bit about life in the Navajo Nation. We've also slept in some pretty crazy places, like the raquetball courts at Eastern New Mexico University in Roswell (have you ever slept in a giant white box?) and an indoor astroturf field in Eager, Arizona. Now, I'm in Flagstaff, which is one of the coolest towns we've been in: lots of cool shops, resturaunts, and bike shops. It has a very hippie vibe.
It's pretty crazy that there are less than two weeks left in the trip. I feel like we still have so much to see: the grand canyon, Las Vegas (just wait until you hear about where we're staying), the California desert, and then... the Pacific!
Despite all the craziness, New Mexico and Arizona have been my favorite parts of the trip so far. We had a day off in Roswell where I got to go to the alien museum (eh) and eat some delicious Mexican food (yay). The rides through the mountains in New Mexico were absolutely beautiful, as have been the desert rides in Arizona. We biked past the Very Large Array and the painted desert. We've also had great hosts. Pietown, New Mexico -- a town of 60 people straddling the continental divide -- went all out for us. They made us a huge dinner, lots of pie, and let us stay in the amazing 'Toaster House,' which had toasters hanging around the entryway, and tons of other cool artwork around. Two days later, we were in Houck, a town on the edge of the Navajo reservation, where our hosts made us 'Navajo Tacos' -- tacos with frybread instead of tortillas -- and taught us a bit about life in the Navajo Nation. We've also slept in some pretty crazy places, like the raquetball courts at Eastern New Mexico University in Roswell (have you ever slept in a giant white box?) and an indoor astroturf field in Eager, Arizona. Now, I'm in Flagstaff, which is one of the coolest towns we've been in: lots of cool shops, resturaunts, and bike shops. It has a very hippie vibe.
It's pretty crazy that there are less than two weeks left in the trip. I feel like we still have so much to see: the grand canyon, Las Vegas (just wait until you hear about where we're staying), the California desert, and then... the Pacific!
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Everything's bigger in Texas...
There are a lot of stereotypes about Texas. And, now that I'm here I can tell you that they are all true.
First, there was the state sign. The Texas state sign was the biggest state sign we'd seen so far: a towering green homage to the Texas flag, driving safely, and underneath it, a plaque proclaiming Texas "the proud home of President George W. Bush." Yee-haw. I rode in with Jo, Jess Leon, Dani, and Jorge. Jorge, a native Texan, kissed the ground.
Before we got into Texas, Jorge taught us the UT fight song. Here's how it goes, sung to the tune of "I've been working on the railroad":
The eyes of Texas are upon you, all the live long day.
The eyes of Texas are upon you, you cannot get away.
No you cannot escape them in the night or early morn.
The eyes of Texas are upon you, till Gabriel blows his horn.
After 15 uneventful miles, we arrived in the small farming town of Wheeler. We showered in the locker rooms at Wheeler School (one school for K-12) and admired the rows upon rows of football trophies lining the halls.
The First Baptist church hosted us and really did a great job of welcoming us and also, showing us what Texas was all about. They fed us a delicious dinner ("We made brisket. I know ya'll have vegetarians, but this is Texas). The church had a really cool youth center in the basement, complete with a giant movie projector: I'd never seen the Bodies and Motion video so big. And while, you might think a group of college kids mostly from the coasts and a group of high schoolers from a small town in Texas wouldn't have much in common, we discovered that we shared one important thing: a love of Chuck Norris quotes. We shared our favorite quotes and they told us theirs: "Jesus could roundhouse kick Chuck Norris in the face ... but would he?"
The next day we had a tough ride: 99 miles into Amarillo, on jarring roads, uphill and into a headwind the whole way. But actually, it wasn't so bad. I spent most of the day with Lynn, Jess L., and Jo. After second lunch though, I ended up on my own. I was a little daunted by the idea of riding the next 3o miles on the flat, boring road all by myself, but it actually went by pretty quickly. In Amarrillo, Lynn caught up to me again and we road the last few miles together.
It's time to get ready for our build day, so I'll have to share the story of Jorge and the 72 ounce steak another time...
First, there was the state sign. The Texas state sign was the biggest state sign we'd seen so far: a towering green homage to the Texas flag, driving safely, and underneath it, a plaque proclaiming Texas "the proud home of President George W. Bush." Yee-haw. I rode in with Jo, Jess Leon, Dani, and Jorge. Jorge, a native Texan, kissed the ground.
Before we got into Texas, Jorge taught us the UT fight song. Here's how it goes, sung to the tune of "I've been working on the railroad":
The eyes of Texas are upon you, all the live long day.
The eyes of Texas are upon you, you cannot get away.
No you cannot escape them in the night or early morn.
The eyes of Texas are upon you, till Gabriel blows his horn.
After 15 uneventful miles, we arrived in the small farming town of Wheeler. We showered in the locker rooms at Wheeler School (one school for K-12) and admired the rows upon rows of football trophies lining the halls.
The First Baptist church hosted us and really did a great job of welcoming us and also, showing us what Texas was all about. They fed us a delicious dinner ("We made brisket. I know ya'll have vegetarians, but this is Texas). The church had a really cool youth center in the basement, complete with a giant movie projector: I'd never seen the Bodies and Motion video so big. And while, you might think a group of college kids mostly from the coasts and a group of high schoolers from a small town in Texas wouldn't have much in common, we discovered that we shared one important thing: a love of Chuck Norris quotes. We shared our favorite quotes and they told us theirs: "Jesus could roundhouse kick Chuck Norris in the face ... but would he?"
The next day we had a tough ride: 99 miles into Amarillo, on jarring roads, uphill and into a headwind the whole way. But actually, it wasn't so bad. I spent most of the day with Lynn, Jess L., and Jo. After second lunch though, I ended up on my own. I was a little daunted by the idea of riding the next 3o miles on the flat, boring road all by myself, but it actually went by pretty quickly. In Amarrillo, Lynn caught up to me again and we road the last few miles together.
It's time to get ready for our build day, so I'll have to share the story of Jorge and the 72 ounce steak another time...
Monday, July 14, 2008
Tulsa, Oklahoma
I'm writing from Tulsa, home of Garth Brooks and the Hanson Brothers (we biked here from Vinita, Oklahoma -- hometown of Dr. Phill). The last few days have been really great: flat, sunny, and with lots of fun stops along the way. We've gone swimming in the most beautiful river, posed for pictures with a giant blue whale, and run around in a giant field of sunflowers. Today's been one of those days where it just seems really unreal. I'm in Oklahoma! I biked from Boston to Oklahoma!
Boy am I tired.
Boy am I tired.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
joplin, missouri
Since my last post, our merry band has biked diagonally across the state of Missouri.
Highlights include:
Walking 6 miles of gravel road in the rain.
Camping out in Potosi: We were staying at a Boy Scout camp. The camp was rented out to a Christian youth group so our host ('Potosi Paul') found us a field next to a very old church and graveyard where we could pitch tents. Then it thunderstormed. We ended up cramming into a half-finished house for the night.
Back to back centuries through the Ozarks. Oh yeah. I was sweep (ride behind the rest of the group to make sure everyone gets there safely) the first century, so unfortunately (or fortunately!) was picked up at 5pm around mile 60. But I finished the second century day, making it my 3rd 100 miler of the summer. I'm really really impressed at the rest of the Bike and Build crew who pedaled through both.
Lots and lots of frozen custard. Yum.
Working on the first day of a blitz build in Springfield, Missouri. They're building a house in front of a golf course during a big tournament and then moving it over to its real location. We spent the morning posing for pictures and then sitting around waiting for something to do (I took a wonderful nap). But in the afternoon we got some work, and I got to use a saw for the first time ever.
Uttering the sentence: "today was a short day -- 80 miles"
It's 9pm, which means bedtime. Goodnight all!
Highlights include:
Walking 6 miles of gravel road in the rain.
Camping out in Potosi: We were staying at a Boy Scout camp. The camp was rented out to a Christian youth group so our host ('Potosi Paul') found us a field next to a very old church and graveyard where we could pitch tents. Then it thunderstormed. We ended up cramming into a half-finished house for the night.
Back to back centuries through the Ozarks. Oh yeah. I was sweep (ride behind the rest of the group to make sure everyone gets there safely) the first century, so unfortunately (or fortunately!) was picked up at 5pm around mile 60. But I finished the second century day, making it my 3rd 100 miler of the summer. I'm really really impressed at the rest of the Bike and Build crew who pedaled through both.
Lots and lots of frozen custard. Yum.
Working on the first day of a blitz build in Springfield, Missouri. They're building a house in front of a golf course during a big tournament and then moving it over to its real location. We spent the morning posing for pictures and then sitting around waiting for something to do (I took a wonderful nap). But in the afternoon we got some work, and I got to use a saw for the first time ever.
Uttering the sentence: "today was a short day -- 80 miles"
It's 9pm, which means bedtime. Goodnight all!
Monday, July 7, 2008
meet me in St. Louis
I was really excited about riding over the Mississippi River. When I woke up on a church social hall floor in Salem, Illinois, it hit me: today was the day. We'd had two days of beautiful flat riding since Bloomington, and one more 80 miler would take us to the Mississippi. At breakfast though, things began to look dark. There were rumors that today would be hilly... really hilly. We're biking through the Ozarks today, someone said. Aren't the Ozarks in Missouri, not Illinois? Anyway, the elevation chart on the cue sheet confirmed it: big big hills -- mountains really. But I set out determined. I was going to bike across the Mississippi today, no matter what.
Ten miles into the ride, it became clear that yes, the Ozarks are not in Southern Illinois (ha ha Kyle Magida) and an uneventful but pleasantly flat ride brought us to the outskirts of St. Louis. I've been told that this area is unusually cool right now. But that can't be true because it was very very hot. We stopped at a nice air conditioned Dairy Queen (where Oliver somehow downed a blizzard bigger than his head) before heading out down a nice bike path. Biking on the path was really fun -- no traffic to worry about. It felt a bit like we were all just out for a nice leisurely Sunday afternoon ride, not spandex clad biking machines who've ridden over 1000 miles in the last 4 weeks. Well it was leisurely until we realized that the YMCA where we could shower closed at 3:30 -- then we started to book it.
The bike path spit us out into a treeless, baked, neighborhood. Confusing cue sheet directions had us following the arrows chalked by those before us until all of a sudden we were riding onto the McKinley Bridge. I guess I was a little disappointed by the Mississippi. It was much smaller than the Hudson and it was so so very hot and I wanted to shower so badly that we barely stopped for pictures at the Illinois/Missouri line before rolling on. After the bridge we headed south on the "Riverside Bike Path," which was not so much riverside as concrete-wall-and-industrial-wasteland-side. Then the bike path turned and ended in a wall, so we continued on the street, up a hill, past the correctional facility, into St. Louis proper, which smelled a bit like boiled asphalt and vomit. Maybe I'm being a bit harsh on St. Louis. Maybe I've just gotten used to the smell. But at that point all I wanted was to be out of the heat and in a shower.
When we rolled up to the church at exactly 3:28pm where Skip Burns met us outside, informing us that the Y had actually closed at 3:00. Luckily, Allie's grandmother invited us to her assisted living home in the burbs to shower, which was amazing. After that, and not one but two dinners, and a nice 20 minutes lying on the grass under the arch, I was finally feeling pretty happy to be on this side of the Mississippi.
Ten miles into the ride, it became clear that yes, the Ozarks are not in Southern Illinois (ha ha Kyle Magida) and an uneventful but pleasantly flat ride brought us to the outskirts of St. Louis. I've been told that this area is unusually cool right now. But that can't be true because it was very very hot. We stopped at a nice air conditioned Dairy Queen (where Oliver somehow downed a blizzard bigger than his head) before heading out down a nice bike path. Biking on the path was really fun -- no traffic to worry about. It felt a bit like we were all just out for a nice leisurely Sunday afternoon ride, not spandex clad biking machines who've ridden over 1000 miles in the last 4 weeks. Well it was leisurely until we realized that the YMCA where we could shower closed at 3:30 -- then we started to book it.
The bike path spit us out into a treeless, baked, neighborhood. Confusing cue sheet directions had us following the arrows chalked by those before us until all of a sudden we were riding onto the McKinley Bridge. I guess I was a little disappointed by the Mississippi. It was much smaller than the Hudson and it was so so very hot and I wanted to shower so badly that we barely stopped for pictures at the Illinois/Missouri line before rolling on. After the bridge we headed south on the "Riverside Bike Path," which was not so much riverside as concrete-wall-and-industrial-wasteland-side. Then the bike path turned and ended in a wall, so we continued on the street, up a hill, past the correctional facility, into St. Louis proper, which smelled a bit like boiled asphalt and vomit. Maybe I'm being a bit harsh on St. Louis. Maybe I've just gotten used to the smell. But at that point all I wanted was to be out of the heat and in a shower.
When we rolled up to the church at exactly 3:28pm where Skip Burns met us outside, informing us that the Y had actually closed at 3:00. Luckily, Allie's grandmother invited us to her assisted living home in the burbs to shower, which was amazing. After that, and not one but two dinners, and a nice 20 minutes lying on the grass under the arch, I was finally feeling pretty happy to be on this side of the Mississippi.
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