I pushed off from the sleepy town of Grand Marais, Michigan this morning. It was probably around 10am, but it felt alot earlier. As I coasted through town on this cloudy start to the day, the air was a bit heavy from the rain that had fallen over night. Near the bank, I hung a left on to H58, the highway that would carry me to Munising some 48 miles west. Just out of town, I entered Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. The first handful of miles brought me up and down a rollercoaster of hills - a much welcomed change in terrain from the flat roads I have been on since entering the Upper Peninsula of Michigan 3 days ago. The road wound itself through thick deciduous forests. The trees arched over the roadway and with the muted light from an overcast day, the green was more brilliant and crisp. The forest floors were covered with ferns and Queen Anne's Lace speckled the roadsides gently swaying and bowing in the breeze. I eventually came up out from the depths of the forest. The road flattened and straightened out. I rode along the coniferous landscape. Cat tails and wild daisies lined my path. The tall grasses and reeds from the swamps on the sides of the road danced in the wind as the sweet smells of nature were swirled around me.
Many miles of flat, straight, narrow concrete laid out before me. My route became almost identical from my ride yesterday from Paradise to Grand Marais. As I was descending a small hill, I began to think about how yesterday (August 16th), one year ago, I was on my way home from my journey back to Korea. I remember feeling so estranged from my life back in Minnesota after my 2 weeks in Korea. I felt nervous, sad, and confused about how my life would make sense once I was back home. I had left so much of myself in Korea and I let Korea in so deeply to my core that it felt like a great loss to have to leave. Today would have been my first full day back in St. Paul. I remember sitting in my apartment in a haze of exhaustion and sadness. I couldn't move. I couldn't process. I felt like so much had just been ripped away from me. It took a couple of weeks to regulate my sleep cycle and my emotions once I returned. Today as I was cycling along I felt it somewhat odd and disconnected that while one year ago I was struggling with coming home, today I was very much looking forward to coming home. Every turn of the crank I was just a bit closer to being back in my hometown, my house, my own bed, and surrounded with those things and those people that mean the most to me.
This trip has been lonely at times. I often wonder what it would have been like if I would have been completely on my own. Would I still feel as lonely sometimes? Would I enjoy the solitude? It's hard to say. What I do know is that I miss my friends and family back home. It's nice to be able to stay connected via technological outlets, but it's not the same as being with them. I've always struggled with connecting to people. I could name many reasons as to why I think this is. My biggest fear with attachment is the loss that will inevitably happen - someone moves away, someone dies, someone stops engaging, dynamics change. Rolling with the ever-changing ways that relationships of any kind ebb and flow has always left me feeling terribly unsettled. I worry that through these changes, I will inevitably be left behind. I've experienced tremendous loss in important and crucial relationships in my life. The impacts of these losses are pain that I very much still carry with me today. One thing this ride has made me realize is my intense need for a sense of belonging and security. There are wonderful people back home who, without even trying, allow these feelings to come forward. It's not something I experience with everyone I cross paths with. Biking for anywhere from 4 -9 hours or more a day by myself, it puts into perspective for me how much I love and need those who I have allowed to get close to me. I miss them. Their faces, our stories, and other random memories of all of them keep me company on my ride. I am looking forward to getting together once I am back home.
I knew that I would lose weight on this ride. Biking as much as I knew I would be and not being able to consume that many calories, there was no question in my mind. I weighed myself before I left. I am getting really curious as to what I will weigh when I get back. I've noticed changes in my body almost daily - the way my shirts hang, the way my shorts fit, how I notice definition here or there where there hadn't been as much, or any at all - my neck near my collarbones, my back, my arms, my legs. I've been on an intentional kick to lose some weight for about 2 years now. While the results have been constant, they've also been slow. For the past 4 months as I trained for this ride, I experienced more obvious results from weight lifting. For the past 13 days since being on this bike ride, I feel like there have been drastic changes that are happening right before my eyes. I think about life post ride. I'll have a few days to relax and then my doctoral program will begin. I start my research assistantship on Monday, August 29th and the following week, classes start. I know it's going to be a busy and challenging year. After biking at least 48 miles a day, but mostly the average has been around 60 miles or so, I think about how all this will change once I am home and once school is in full swing. As the polar opposite of a morning person, I may have to suck that up and try and train my body to become a morning person so I can get my workouts in early. I've got a couple handfuls of weight to lose to reach my goal weight and after the weightloss I experience on this trip, I don't want to gain it back. This trip has definitely put into perspective the "long" bike rides I did when I was training. It also puts into perspective the notion of "hills." Yeah.
I've got one week (7 days) left of this ride - a few more days in Michigan and a couple days in Wisconsin before crossing the bridge to Duluth, where it all began. I'm hoping the scenery changes. Michigan has been very flat - boringly so. I miss the lake. I haven't seen much of it since I've been here. It gives me energy and fuels my thoughts and processes of my ongoing quest of finding self and place. Last night, in Grand Marais, being able to walk along the shores of the lake and dip my feet in every now and then allowed me to connect as intimately as I can to this great lake. I felt the energy move through my body and was immediately overcome with a sense of intense serenity and balance. Even as I've ridden along, when I can catch quick glimpses of the lake, the effects are immediate and an instant calm and sense of becoming re-centered take over. All seems right and I feel connected and established in who I am, where I am, and that I am to be doing what I am doing right there in that moment. It all makes sense. I need the lake.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Monday, August 15, 2011
Sensing the Lake
I've re-entered the US on day 11. We crossed the border in Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario into the Upper Peninsula in Michigan. I had a 56 mile ride into Paradise, MI. The first 10-15 miles were fine. I enjoyed a very flat route today through Brimley and into Bay Mills. This area is largely Native country - lots of federal government buildings and services for the populations in these small towns. I was upset by the poverty in the towns and knowing the history of the way the US government has treated Native Americans and then just on the outskirts of town, riding past all the lakefront homes/cottages/cabins owned my wealthy and privileged enough people to have them in the first place. Each home has either a creative name or the family name on a big carved or painted wooden sign near the street - "Tumble On Inn," "The Whitelaw Family Lakehouse, est. 1973," "The Johnson's Best View Cabin."All the owners were named Bob and Judy, Cindy and Dave, Ed and Carol - good old white American names belonging to heterosexual married couples no doubt. Privilege, privilege, privilege! The stark contrasts were unfair and I wondered if the owners of these beautiful lake shore homes knew and understood what they had compared to their neighbors just a few yards down.
While I enjoyed much flatter terrain today, it did not work for my feet. All that time in the saddle blocks the blood flow and standing up and getting out of the saddle didn't make a whole lot of sense on flat ground. My bike would coast to a standstill in seconds. Needless to say, the pain today was concentrated in my feet. The other horrendous pain that has consumed too much of my experiences on this trip so far has finally subsided quite a bit. I am so incredibly thankful! I know the foot issue is a combination of spending too much time seated and having shoes that aren't the best for riding like this. They aren't terrible, but what I really needed was bike shoes that are designed for touring with a very firm sole and a wide fit. I could have spent the money before the trip to get a pair. In hindsight I should have, but I was worried about not having enough time to break them in and get used to them before I left, thus, potentially creating a bigger issue for my feet. I make it work though. I just need to spend more time out of the saddle whether it's standing up and pedaling on the flats or just getting off my bike altogether and walking around for a few minutes.
I followed the Curley Lewis Highway on my way to Paradise today. Through Brimley and Bay Mills it was an interesting ride, however, after that, for almost the rest of the way until it intersects with highway 123, it was flat and boring. I couldn't see the lake, just trees to both sides of me and long stretches of narrow flat road. While I should have been grateful for the easy pedal today, with the unchanging scenery, I grew impatient and had a hard time motivating myself to go faster so I could get through it more quickly. As I grew more bored, I got more impatient until I was just down right crabby. I took a minute and tried to concentrate on just calming down and enjoying the trees, the tall grasses, and the concrete. I thought about how, in our lives, most of the world is trained to go from point A to point B as quickly as possible whether it be in traveling from destination to destination, in completing tasks, in thinking thoughts - we want to get through whatever it is we're doing fast. Time, especially in Western culture, is linear. It moves in a line from start to finish and everything that we do, think, say, etc., moves along that line - always forward. I knew this was my attitude on my ride today - just hurry up and get done and when I can't go faster, get crabby about it.
I tried to just tune into what was going on - the way the breeze felt, especially when sudden brief bursts of colder air washed in from the lake just on the other side of the trees, cooling my body as it evaporated the perspiration. I listened for how the wind rushed by my ears. I felt the warmth of the sun on my skin. I listened to the way the leaves rustled and I watched the tall grasses sway. I followed the grasshoppers as they took flight before me as if leading the way for a short distance. I heard and felt the hum of my tires on the pavement, as well as the soft clinking of my gear in my bike bags as my bike dipped over small cracks spreading across the pavement. I had seen one snake already today - the first one of this ride. It was dead, but grossed me out nonetheless. My legs grew wobbly, my arms lost their strength and I about fell off my bike. I broke into a cold sweat as my heart raced and a wave of nausea came over me. Yep, I'm scared of them! For the rest of my ride I kept an eye out, growing panicky at every twig in the road thinking it was a snake. You'd think that would have provided enough adrenaline to get me moving through 40-some miles of very long, very flat, and very boring road. No such luck.
My ability to tune out of my need to just get done for the day and tune into paying attention to each moment during my ride came in sporadic episodes. Usually the pain in my feet or my neck from not cinching up the CamelBak would yank me back into wanting to just be done riding for the day. I reminded myself again of how accustomed we are to hurrying through life. I will be the first to admit I am not a patient person. I think today was a lesson that is just beginning to be learned. Tonight, we ate dinner at Camp 33 - a restaurant and pub near the upper Tahquamenon Falls (about 14 miles up the road from our hotel) and named because it was the 33rd logging camp the Barrett Logging Company constructed (I'm assuming the Barrett Logging Company constructed many of the camps in the area back in the day). The 14 mile drive to Camp 33 gave me a preview of what about the first quarter of my ride tomorrow will be like - long, flat, trees, concrete, no lake. I thought about downloading a book on tape or something and putting it on my ipod tonight so I could listen to it tomorrow, but I forgot the right cable to do that. I only brought my charger. I think it's a sign for me to once again quit thinking about how many more miles it is and just enjoy the ride for what it is, where it is, and what it means to me as a chapter in this entire journey.
I'm just over halfway done at day 11. With 662 miles completed and being back in the US, just 9 more days stand between me and and the end to one epic journey of a lifetime doing what I love most around a lake that has much significance and meaning to me. All in all I couldn't imagine experiencing the entire shore of Lake Superior in any other way. I've connected with the lake, the land, and myself in so many ways already. We'll see what the next 9 days have to offer!
While I enjoyed much flatter terrain today, it did not work for my feet. All that time in the saddle blocks the blood flow and standing up and getting out of the saddle didn't make a whole lot of sense on flat ground. My bike would coast to a standstill in seconds. Needless to say, the pain today was concentrated in my feet. The other horrendous pain that has consumed too much of my experiences on this trip so far has finally subsided quite a bit. I am so incredibly thankful! I know the foot issue is a combination of spending too much time seated and having shoes that aren't the best for riding like this. They aren't terrible, but what I really needed was bike shoes that are designed for touring with a very firm sole and a wide fit. I could have spent the money before the trip to get a pair. In hindsight I should have, but I was worried about not having enough time to break them in and get used to them before I left, thus, potentially creating a bigger issue for my feet. I make it work though. I just need to spend more time out of the saddle whether it's standing up and pedaling on the flats or just getting off my bike altogether and walking around for a few minutes.
I followed the Curley Lewis Highway on my way to Paradise today. Through Brimley and Bay Mills it was an interesting ride, however, after that, for almost the rest of the way until it intersects with highway 123, it was flat and boring. I couldn't see the lake, just trees to both sides of me and long stretches of narrow flat road. While I should have been grateful for the easy pedal today, with the unchanging scenery, I grew impatient and had a hard time motivating myself to go faster so I could get through it more quickly. As I grew more bored, I got more impatient until I was just down right crabby. I took a minute and tried to concentrate on just calming down and enjoying the trees, the tall grasses, and the concrete. I thought about how, in our lives, most of the world is trained to go from point A to point B as quickly as possible whether it be in traveling from destination to destination, in completing tasks, in thinking thoughts - we want to get through whatever it is we're doing fast. Time, especially in Western culture, is linear. It moves in a line from start to finish and everything that we do, think, say, etc., moves along that line - always forward. I knew this was my attitude on my ride today - just hurry up and get done and when I can't go faster, get crabby about it.
I tried to just tune into what was going on - the way the breeze felt, especially when sudden brief bursts of colder air washed in from the lake just on the other side of the trees, cooling my body as it evaporated the perspiration. I listened for how the wind rushed by my ears. I felt the warmth of the sun on my skin. I listened to the way the leaves rustled and I watched the tall grasses sway. I followed the grasshoppers as they took flight before me as if leading the way for a short distance. I heard and felt the hum of my tires on the pavement, as well as the soft clinking of my gear in my bike bags as my bike dipped over small cracks spreading across the pavement. I had seen one snake already today - the first one of this ride. It was dead, but grossed me out nonetheless. My legs grew wobbly, my arms lost their strength and I about fell off my bike. I broke into a cold sweat as my heart raced and a wave of nausea came over me. Yep, I'm scared of them! For the rest of my ride I kept an eye out, growing panicky at every twig in the road thinking it was a snake. You'd think that would have provided enough adrenaline to get me moving through 40-some miles of very long, very flat, and very boring road. No such luck.
My ability to tune out of my need to just get done for the day and tune into paying attention to each moment during my ride came in sporadic episodes. Usually the pain in my feet or my neck from not cinching up the CamelBak would yank me back into wanting to just be done riding for the day. I reminded myself again of how accustomed we are to hurrying through life. I will be the first to admit I am not a patient person. I think today was a lesson that is just beginning to be learned. Tonight, we ate dinner at Camp 33 - a restaurant and pub near the upper Tahquamenon Falls (about 14 miles up the road from our hotel) and named because it was the 33rd logging camp the Barrett Logging Company constructed (I'm assuming the Barrett Logging Company constructed many of the camps in the area back in the day). The 14 mile drive to Camp 33 gave me a preview of what about the first quarter of my ride tomorrow will be like - long, flat, trees, concrete, no lake. I thought about downloading a book on tape or something and putting it on my ipod tonight so I could listen to it tomorrow, but I forgot the right cable to do that. I only brought my charger. I think it's a sign for me to once again quit thinking about how many more miles it is and just enjoy the ride for what it is, where it is, and what it means to me as a chapter in this entire journey.
I'm just over halfway done at day 11. With 662 miles completed and being back in the US, just 9 more days stand between me and and the end to one epic journey of a lifetime doing what I love most around a lake that has much significance and meaning to me. All in all I couldn't imagine experiencing the entire shore of Lake Superior in any other way. I've connected with the lake, the land, and myself in so many ways already. We'll see what the next 9 days have to offer!
Sunday, August 14, 2011
I Biked the TransCanada Highway...and LIVED!
Lack of internet in some of the small Canadian towns I was in have kept me from updating the blog. Have no fear, I am still very much alive and well. I biked the last 45 miles of the TransCanada Highway today from Batchawana Bay to Sault Ste. Marie. It was probably the easiest ride I've done so far this whole trip. There was one section in the middle that was a bit challenging. A couple of the staff people in the restaurant at the resort we stayed at in Batchawana Bay lovingly referred to it as the "mile long hill." They weren't kidding. After almost 20 miles of nice flat, even gradual downhill riding, I saw it reaching up into the sky. I slowed my pace to save my legs. I knew it'd be a workout. Up I went - eyes to the ground so as to not get disappointed by seeing how much I had left to ride up. It could have been worse, but it was definitely an unpleasant disruption to a very flat and pleasant ride. Once I reached the top, it was a steady downhill ride into Sault Ste. Marie to bring day 10 and my ride through Canada to an end.
Days 8 and 9 were pretty horrendous for various reasons. Day 8 brought me from White River (where Winnie the Pooh had its origins) to Wawa. It was the last of my couple-day flatter rides as I knew the route from Wawa to Batchawana Bay would be through several mountain ranges (as indicated in my Google research a few nights ago about the area I'm biking through). I was pretty deflated by the time I reached Wawa. I was extremely hungry and had no energy for anything. Once we ate, I felt better, but then the pain and discomfort hit. As soon as the pain comes, my mood drops in an instant. I got super crabby and just wanted to fall on the ground and scream and cry because I was so uncomfortable. Every little thing irritated me. I needed to go back to the hotel (where I had my own room - a VERY good thing that night) and just be by myself and go to sleep. I was snapping at my mom and being really crabby because I was in so much pain and just so fed up with it. Hurting that bad made everything worse. I wanted to give up, be done, go home, and screw the rest of the trip.
The next morning I was really no better. I knew that I had a possible century ride on day 9 (yesterday). I met up with my SAG team for breakfast - didnt say much. Had a hard time getting motivated and ready to go. Finally I got the move on, packed up my bike, and headed out. I got into the groove pretty quickly and all the pain eventually subsided. Usually I am finding about 15 - 20 minutes into my ride, everything gets into its own rhythm and/or numbs up and I can go for awhile relatively pain free.
Most of my ride I tried to convince myself that if I had to throw in the towel at Montreal River Harbour (70 miles into the ride), that it would be ok, especially because of the terrain I had to bike. I didnt want to hurt my body more and risk injury or some kind of long-term issue (which may happen anyway). I ate Cliff bars and Hammer gel packs for an on-the-bike lunch. It didnt provide much and the hunger I felt was taking its toll. I could barely even move. I am not sure where I even found the energy to keep turning those cranks over. I struggled up even the smallest hills - again having my speed reduced to 2.5 - 3 mph. I caught up with my mom and Helene in Montreal River Harbour where I ate two ham and cheese sandwiches, some chips, a yogurt, and a cookie. I felt instantly better, though still exhausted. I decided to keep going. I asked that they do 10 mile checks with me for as long as I could go. I was more worried about losing daylight than I was about not being able to make it, although I wasn't completely convinced I had it in me.
Once I reached my first 10 mile mark for a check in, I was determined to make it all the way. I was hungry to finish this century ride. After all the riding I had done so far, I NEEDED to make it to the very end, even if I was crawling and dragging my bike all the way there. I ended up making it to the turn off street in Batchawana Bay for our resort. I was told it was 4 miles down the road. I decided to keep biking it. A few miles in, I saw my mom's truck off to the side of the road. I knew that couldn't mean anything good. As I pulled up, she told me it looked like it was another 3 or 4 miles down the road. My heart sank, my hopes sank, and I wanted to fall off my bike and just lay there - maybe cry too. I pushed through all of that and luckily, the resort was only about another mile up the road. We got in around 8/830pm. I checked my mileage - something I hadn't done all day so as to not upset the delicate balance of my biking psyche. 103.5 miles in 9 hours and 40 minutes. I couldn't believe it! I had done it! I had completed my century ride just as I said I was going to do! And through the freakin' mountains! We unloaded our stuff in the room and the owner of the resort told us if we got an order in soon, they could cook us dinner. Being a German resort, we feasted on pork schneitzel, green beans, potatoes, bread, and salad. It was divine!
The 103.5 miles from Wawa to Batchawana Bay took me through some mountainous regions of Ontario. The ride was extremely hilly. While there were no mountain passes like there were a few days ago on my ride, the hills were constant. They were very long, very steep, and happened very often. My whole ride was going up a long steep hill, followed by a very brief flat that was usually a false flat anyway and was still just at a slight incline. Then, I would go up another long steep hill and the pattern repeated itself for 70 miles. I enjoyed a few downhills, but not near as many as the uphills unfortunately. It was a beautiful ride, but the relentlessness of the hills was obnoxious. There was just never a break!
Today, on day 10, as I was biking to the Soo (Sault Ste. Marie), I took my time. I knew this was the end of the Canadian leg of this trip. It's been quite an epic experience and I felt sad to know that I was almost done. I was more than happy to be done, but at the same time, given what I have endured during my 8 days in Canada, quite an attachment was formed and it was hard to know that it was ending. Bittersweet for sure. Day 11 will be back stateside in the UP of Michigan. I'll be headed to Paradise for my first ride back in the states. I'm halfway done with my trip having logged just over 600 miles so far. Ten more days through Michigan and Wisconsin along the South Shore of Lake Superior, then across the Highway 53 bridge to Duluth where my ride will conclude. I find much relief knowing that I will not be riding anymore 100 mile rides nor will the rest of the route be nearly as hilly as what Canada gave me. I'm looking forward to seeing what the South Shore has to offer.
Days 8 and 9 were pretty horrendous for various reasons. Day 8 brought me from White River (where Winnie the Pooh had its origins) to Wawa. It was the last of my couple-day flatter rides as I knew the route from Wawa to Batchawana Bay would be through several mountain ranges (as indicated in my Google research a few nights ago about the area I'm biking through). I was pretty deflated by the time I reached Wawa. I was extremely hungry and had no energy for anything. Once we ate, I felt better, but then the pain and discomfort hit. As soon as the pain comes, my mood drops in an instant. I got super crabby and just wanted to fall on the ground and scream and cry because I was so uncomfortable. Every little thing irritated me. I needed to go back to the hotel (where I had my own room - a VERY good thing that night) and just be by myself and go to sleep. I was snapping at my mom and being really crabby because I was in so much pain and just so fed up with it. Hurting that bad made everything worse. I wanted to give up, be done, go home, and screw the rest of the trip.
The next morning I was really no better. I knew that I had a possible century ride on day 9 (yesterday). I met up with my SAG team for breakfast - didnt say much. Had a hard time getting motivated and ready to go. Finally I got the move on, packed up my bike, and headed out. I got into the groove pretty quickly and all the pain eventually subsided. Usually I am finding about 15 - 20 minutes into my ride, everything gets into its own rhythm and/or numbs up and I can go for awhile relatively pain free.
Most of my ride I tried to convince myself that if I had to throw in the towel at Montreal River Harbour (70 miles into the ride), that it would be ok, especially because of the terrain I had to bike. I didnt want to hurt my body more and risk injury or some kind of long-term issue (which may happen anyway). I ate Cliff bars and Hammer gel packs for an on-the-bike lunch. It didnt provide much and the hunger I felt was taking its toll. I could barely even move. I am not sure where I even found the energy to keep turning those cranks over. I struggled up even the smallest hills - again having my speed reduced to 2.5 - 3 mph. I caught up with my mom and Helene in Montreal River Harbour where I ate two ham and cheese sandwiches, some chips, a yogurt, and a cookie. I felt instantly better, though still exhausted. I decided to keep going. I asked that they do 10 mile checks with me for as long as I could go. I was more worried about losing daylight than I was about not being able to make it, although I wasn't completely convinced I had it in me.
Once I reached my first 10 mile mark for a check in, I was determined to make it all the way. I was hungry to finish this century ride. After all the riding I had done so far, I NEEDED to make it to the very end, even if I was crawling and dragging my bike all the way there. I ended up making it to the turn off street in Batchawana Bay for our resort. I was told it was 4 miles down the road. I decided to keep biking it. A few miles in, I saw my mom's truck off to the side of the road. I knew that couldn't mean anything good. As I pulled up, she told me it looked like it was another 3 or 4 miles down the road. My heart sank, my hopes sank, and I wanted to fall off my bike and just lay there - maybe cry too. I pushed through all of that and luckily, the resort was only about another mile up the road. We got in around 8/830pm. I checked my mileage - something I hadn't done all day so as to not upset the delicate balance of my biking psyche. 103.5 miles in 9 hours and 40 minutes. I couldn't believe it! I had done it! I had completed my century ride just as I said I was going to do! And through the freakin' mountains! We unloaded our stuff in the room and the owner of the resort told us if we got an order in soon, they could cook us dinner. Being a German resort, we feasted on pork schneitzel, green beans, potatoes, bread, and salad. It was divine!
The 103.5 miles from Wawa to Batchawana Bay took me through some mountainous regions of Ontario. The ride was extremely hilly. While there were no mountain passes like there were a few days ago on my ride, the hills were constant. They were very long, very steep, and happened very often. My whole ride was going up a long steep hill, followed by a very brief flat that was usually a false flat anyway and was still just at a slight incline. Then, I would go up another long steep hill and the pattern repeated itself for 70 miles. I enjoyed a few downhills, but not near as many as the uphills unfortunately. It was a beautiful ride, but the relentlessness of the hills was obnoxious. There was just never a break!
Today, on day 10, as I was biking to the Soo (Sault Ste. Marie), I took my time. I knew this was the end of the Canadian leg of this trip. It's been quite an epic experience and I felt sad to know that I was almost done. I was more than happy to be done, but at the same time, given what I have endured during my 8 days in Canada, quite an attachment was formed and it was hard to know that it was ending. Bittersweet for sure. Day 11 will be back stateside in the UP of Michigan. I'll be headed to Paradise for my first ride back in the states. I'm halfway done with my trip having logged just over 600 miles so far. Ten more days through Michigan and Wisconsin along the South Shore of Lake Superior, then across the Highway 53 bridge to Duluth where my ride will conclude. I find much relief knowing that I will not be riding anymore 100 mile rides nor will the rest of the route be nearly as hilly as what Canada gave me. I'm looking forward to seeing what the South Shore has to offer.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
The TransCanada Highway
The 56 miles from Marathon to White River was so much better than the last two days. I enjoyed a MUCH flatter ride today - just a couple of rolling country hills. Although nowhere near the mountain passes I had endured the last two days, these hills were long slow climbs - enough to still reduce me from an easy cruising speed of 16 mph to about 5 mph. Annoying. Lunch was on my bike. It consisted of a mini Cliff bar and a chocolate Hammer gel pack. I managed to be only in moderate pain today as compared to horrendously severe pain the last couple of days, so I didn't want to get off my bike. In the last couple of days, that's when the really bad pain usually hits - after a long break from my bike for lunch and journaling. Getting back in the saddle is beyond brutal. Although the breakless bike ride today helped with the discomfort in the saddle, my feet started to hurt as I had starved them of consistent circulation from sitting so long. I just can't win. Anyway, I made it my 56 miles in about 4.5 hours - pretty decent time given the weight I was carrying.
I was thinking today about the TransCanada Highway - the only artery through Canada. I did some Googling when I got to the hotel and wanted to post a bit of information about it on my blog. The info below I copied and pasted from this website:
http://transcanadahighway.com/general/highwayhistory.htm
By 1955, much of the roadways designated as part of the Trans-Canada was unpaved, and significant sections were not even yet built as a rough roadway. The total cost for completing this was going to be $212 million (in 1955 dollars).
The two sections of greatest difficulty were alongside Lake Superior between Sault Ste Marie and Wawa, a gap of 265 km (165 mi), and a 147 km (91 mile) section over the Roger's Pass between Revelstoke and Golden in BC.
In Ontario, a right of way needed to be cleared through virgin forest for 98 of the 165 miles and 25 bridges needed to be built, but in September 1960 that stretch was officially opened.
The Rogers Pass route followed some of the early tracks of the trans-continental railway that were abandoned years ago as too steep for trains, with the addition of a number of snow sheds to protect the highway from the many winter avalanches (the area gets about 200 ft of snowfall each year) and rockslides This stretch was opened June 30, 1962, and marked the official completion of the Trans-Canada (though at that time about half the 7,770 kilometres was still gravelled). BC continued work to improve the highway through the canyon along the Fraser River by blasting several tunnels, with the final two opening in 1966. By 1963, according to the accounts of traveller Edward McCourt, most of Newfoundland was still in the process of being paved.
Over recent years, much of the focus has been on "twinning" which puts at two lanes in each direction, divided by a median. This is equivalent to the standards for the US Interstate system. All provinces have twinning programs underway, starting around major population centres. Alberta's stretch is the most complete (missing a few kilometres in Banff National Park that is under federal jurisdiction and passing through Calgary on a busy city street with many traffic lights). New Brunswick has been aggressive, opening a new stretch in 2003 that lopped an hour off the travel time through the province.
I think I had mentioned before the Terry Fox Memorial Highway. A portion of the TransCanada Highway is named after Terry Fox. Here is story about him. I am only putting the first part of it here. Definitely check out the website though. It's pretty incredible what he did! Here's the website:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Terry_Fox
Terrance Stanley "Terry" Fox CC OD, (July 28, 1958 – June 28, 1981) was a Canadian humanitarian, athlete, and cancer research activist. In 1980, with one leg having been amputated, he embarked on a cross-Canada run to raise money and awareness for cancer research. Although the spread of his cancer eventually forced him to end his quest after 143 days and 5,373 kilometres (3,339 mi), and ultimately cost him his life, his efforts resulted in a lasting, worldwide legacy. The annual Terry Fox Run, first held in 1981, has grown to involve millions of participants in over 60 countries and is now the world's largest one-day fundraiser for cancer research; over C$500 million has been raised in his name.
And here's some info I found that talks about the segment of the TransCanada Highway I am biking on (Thunder Bay to Sault St. Marie). I took this from this website:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ontario_Highway_17
I was thinking today about the TransCanada Highway - the only artery through Canada. I did some Googling when I got to the hotel and wanted to post a bit of information about it on my blog. The info below I copied and pasted from this website:
http://transcanadahighway.com/general/highwayhistory.htm
Early Canadian Exploration
Canada is an interesting country. Considering its vast size, as the second largest nation in the world (after Russia - still), it amazes people from other parts of the world how we are so similar in language and in our daily lives. There are few pronounced regional dialects (the Newfoundlandic English is the most unique) because---despite its size-this country EXISTS because of efficient transportation. Few areas feel isolated, despite their distance from other parts of the country. We all feel like part of a single country (Quebec may occasionally feel like the exception)
Explorers and settlers arrived in Canada as early as 1500 after sailing only a few weeks from Europe. Fur traders could reach far inland and back by canoe from either the French settlement of Hochelaga (now Montreal) or from the English "factories" along the Hudson's Bay. Before the railroad, crossing Canada took three months by oxcart, horse and boat, as Sir Sanford Fleming did in 1872 travelling from Toronto to Victoria to determine the course for the proposed trans-continental railway to link to the new province of British Columbia. The railway brought coast to coast travel time to about a week, after 1885.
In the late 1800s, steamships brought European immigrants to Canada in only two weeks, and trains quickly delivered them to the prairies to homestead in Canada's "Last Best West". The diverse linguistic and cultural mish-mash melting pot of Canada'settlers intermingled into a surprising homogenous culture and language. Much credit should go to the public school system which taught immigrants English so they could talk with their neighbours (usually from another country) in a 'neutral' third language.
In the 1900s, the biggest force in Canada's growth was the rise of telecommunications. The telegraph came with the railway, and moved information to move coast to coast in minutes. Towns and cities soon got newspapers, which created a shared experience in news, opinions, products and fashions. At the turn of the century the telephone began to dominate interpersonal communication, even over long distances. By the 1920s radio gave a common sense of music, professional sports and news, leading to the rapid rise of jazz music, big band and later rock 'n' roll. The moving pictures and later the "talkies" meant that Canadians absorbed the influence of American culture.
The Motorized Era (1900s)
About that time, the automobile moved into common usage. First mass-produced by Henry Ford in 1903, it enabled the Americans had cross their country from San Francisco to New York in 1906. Canadians had to wait until 1912 when Thomas Wilby crossed from Halifax to Victoria in 2 months, though he covered much of northern Ontario by railcar or on the deck of a steam ship, since there where still no cleared roads there yet.
Between the wars, airplanes began to speed transportation in the country and across it. They could fly across the Great Lakes and over mountain ranges in a straight line faster than any land-based transportation. Planes had their biggest impact in Canada's North where settlements previously several day's canoe trip or dogsled run from the nearest town were now an hour away by plane. Float planes landing on Canada's myriad lakes and rivers connected small or isolated communities that could not justify expensive roads and railways.
World War II and its aftermath put Canadian growth into overdrive. The Alaska Highway was built in months to connect isolated Alaska with Edmonton, Alberta to help defend America's northern outpost against a threat of Japanese invasion. In the 1950s the American government began its massive interstate highway construction program with 4 lane twinned roads in all states (even Hawaii has "interstate" highways!). The jet plane meant it was possible to cross the country in a day, and hop across the Atlantic overnight, and made flying affordable for the middle classes. Television added a new way to communicate over distance, but also created a dramatic way to share experiences, news and emotions. The advent of satellites in the 1960s made it possible to instantly bounce TV signals around the world. It was Canadian media guru Marshall McLuhan who coined the phrase "the medium is the message".
The Post-War Boom
After the war, Canada was bursting at the seams from the millions of new immigrants from all corners of the globe. In the 1950s, the railway was still king in Canada's transportation system, but the country was working to build and pave roads between the major cities fueled by the post-war growth of automobiles in Canada's cities. By 1949 the Trans-Canada Highway act was passed by Parliament right after.
Newfoundland's decision to join Canada. It became important to connect all the provinces together by highway, and build the Canso Causeway to join Cape Breton to the Nova Scotia mainland and speed travel and shipping time to Canada's new island province.
Trans-Canada Highway Construction
After the war, Canada was bursting at the seams from the millions of new immigrants from all corners of the globe. In the 1950s, the railway was still king in Canada's transportation system, but the country was working to build and pave roads between the major cities fueled by the post-war growth of automobiles in Canada's cities. By 1949 the Trans-Canada Highway act was passed by Parliament right after.
Newfoundland's decision to join Canada. It became important to connect all the provinces together by highway, and build the Canso Causeway to join Cape Breton to the Nova Scotia mainland and speed travel and shipping time to Canada's new island province.
Highway Construction
By 1956, the federal and provincial government came to a cost-sharing agreement to encourage the provinces to upgrade existing roadways to "Trans-Canada" standards, and receive 90% of the cost of building new stretches to fill gaps in the roadway. This was most notable in mountainous British Columbia, the rugged Canadian Shield north of Lake Superior, and across much of Newfoundland. The goal was to connect all 10 provinces by paved road by 1967, Canada's centennial year.By 1955, much of the roadways designated as part of the Trans-Canada was unpaved, and significant sections were not even yet built as a rough roadway. The total cost for completing this was going to be $212 million (in 1955 dollars).
The two sections of greatest difficulty were alongside Lake Superior between Sault Ste Marie and Wawa, a gap of 265 km (165 mi), and a 147 km (91 mile) section over the Roger's Pass between Revelstoke and Golden in BC.
In Ontario, a right of way needed to be cleared through virgin forest for 98 of the 165 miles and 25 bridges needed to be built, but in September 1960 that stretch was officially opened.
The Rogers Pass route followed some of the early tracks of the trans-continental railway that were abandoned years ago as too steep for trains, with the addition of a number of snow sheds to protect the highway from the many winter avalanches (the area gets about 200 ft of snowfall each year) and rockslides This stretch was opened June 30, 1962, and marked the official completion of the Trans-Canada (though at that time about half the 7,770 kilometres was still gravelled). BC continued work to improve the highway through the canyon along the Fraser River by blasting several tunnels, with the final two opening in 1966. By 1963, according to the accounts of traveller Edward McCourt, most of Newfoundland was still in the process of being paved.
Over recent years, much of the focus has been on "twinning" which puts at two lanes in each direction, divided by a median. This is equivalent to the standards for the US Interstate system. All provinces have twinning programs underway, starting around major population centres. Alberta's stretch is the most complete (missing a few kilometres in Banff National Park that is under federal jurisdiction and passing through Calgary on a busy city street with many traffic lights). New Brunswick has been aggressive, opening a new stretch in 2003 that lopped an hour off the travel time through the province.
I think I had mentioned before the Terry Fox Memorial Highway. A portion of the TransCanada Highway is named after Terry Fox. Here is story about him. I am only putting the first part of it here. Definitely check out the website though. It's pretty incredible what he did! Here's the website:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Terry_Fox
Terrance Stanley "Terry" Fox CC OD, (July 28, 1958 – June 28, 1981) was a Canadian humanitarian, athlete, and cancer research activist. In 1980, with one leg having been amputated, he embarked on a cross-Canada run to raise money and awareness for cancer research. Although the spread of his cancer eventually forced him to end his quest after 143 days and 5,373 kilometres (3,339 mi), and ultimately cost him his life, his efforts resulted in a lasting, worldwide legacy. The annual Terry Fox Run, first held in 1981, has grown to involve millions of participants in over 60 countries and is now the world's largest one-day fundraiser for cancer research; over C$500 million has been raised in his name.
And here's some info I found that talks about the segment of the TransCanada Highway I am biking on (Thunder Bay to Sault St. Marie). I took this from this website:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ontario_Highway_17
Manitoba to Nipigon
Highway 17 begins at the border between Ontario and Manitoba, where a large installation greets drivers in both directions. The highway is two lanes wide and travels over and between the surface features of the Canadian Shield; further west into Manitoba the highway widens into a four lane divided expressway. To the east, the highway travels through thick boreal forest towards Keewatin, where the grade-separated Kenora Bypass, Highway 17A, splits to the north. Through the town of Kenora, Highway 17 is signed, but maintained under a connecting link agreement between the town and the province. Full provincial maintenance resumes at the eastern town limits. Further east, the highway merges with the Kenora Bypass. It meets the northern terminus of Highway 71, then makes a gradual eastward journey through the lake-dotted Kenora District to the town of Dryden. Here the highway encounters one of the few agriculturally-sustainable areas of northern Ontario. The highway begins to zig-zag southeasterly, passing through several minor settlements before entering the mining town of Ignace. Shortly thereafter, it begins to curve to the south. It meets Highway 11 475 km (295 mi) east of the Manitoba border.The two highways travel concurrently towards Thunder Bay at the western lakehead of Lake Superior. Though it originally travelled through what was then the twin-cities, the highway bypasses to the northwest on the at-grade Thunder Bay Expressway.
Nipigon to Sudbury
Within Nipigon, Highway 11 and Highway 17 cross the Nipigon River. Along with the railway crossing immediately to the south, and another on the northern shore of Lake Nipigon, this forms the narrowest bottleneck in Canada between the Atlantic and Pacific oceans.[citation needed] On the eastern shore of the river, Highway 11 separates and travels north towards Geraldton and Hearst. Highway 17 continues east along the northern shore of Lake Superior. Near White River, the highway enters Algoma District and turns southward. It meets the western terminus of Highway 101 near Wawa, which provides for a shorter route to Sudbury via the Sultan Industrial Road.
South of Wawa, the highway enters Lake Superior Provincial Park. After proceeding through several mountain ranges, and crossing numerous rivers, the highway enters Sault Ste. Marie. Here a border crossing into the United States is provided via the Sault Ste. Marie International Bridge, which connects with I-75 in Michigan. As the highway exits Sault Ste. Marie to the east, a newly constructed segment of four lane divided highway branches north; Highway 17B (the only remaining business route of Highway 17 in service) continues east through Garden River. The divided highway bypasses Garden River and passes south of Echo Bay before curving south and merging with Highway 17B.
Shortly thereafter, it turns to the east and travels along the North Channel of Lake Huron towards Sudbury, passing through numerous small towns, including Thessalon, Blind River, Massey and McKerrow. At Sudbury, the highway widens into a freeway through the Walden area of the city until reaching the Southwest / Southeast Bypass at Lively, where it narrows again to a Super 2 road. This segment is currently undergoing an environmental assessment, with plans to upgrade it to a full freeway in the next ten years.
Finally, I am biking through the Canadian Shield. I remember learning about this probably in like 4th grade geography, but until I Googled it, I couldn't tell you what it was. Anyway, I'll just post the Wikipedia website for it here rather than copying and pasting everything:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canadian_Shield
Tomorrow it's 56 miles to Wawa. I'll have my own hotel room there which will help tremendously with sleep and healing of important areas. The following day I hope to complete my one and only century ride on this trip. I'm not so sure if that will happen given I'll be traveling through several mountain ranges (as indicated in a section above about the segment of the TransCanada Highway I am on). I'll do my best!
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Today is a Metaphor
A BIG thank you to my mom for getting me my own hotel room for the night! I am hoping for a good and restful full night of sleep. I haven't had a decent sleep yet since I started. I know the cumulative exhaustion has taken its toll on my body. I need some major healing in order to make it through the next two weeks!
This morning was a rough one. Day 6 brought much pain to the usual area. In addition, my quads were screaming all through the night. Having biked up and down mountains yesterday really left its mark. This morning I felt so hopeless, again. Having had a very restless night of sleep and being in agonizing pain, tears welled up in my eyes as I tried to get down some soggy hashbrowns, toast, and rubbery eggs my mom had brought back for breakfast. She and Helene had volunteered to go get me breakfast so that I could sleep. I think the hour or so they were gone was the most I'd slept consistently since starting this ride. Once again I didn't know how I was going to manage another 50-some miles sitting on that damn bike saddle. Talk of medical attention entered into the conversation. I keep entertaining the thought but am sure there's nothing that can be done other then the doctor telling me to rest for a few days and let things heal up. I know at least ONE rest day would do me wonders, but I didn't budget for it in my planning. Stupid on my part, but I had no idea. Lesson learned...the hard way.
I took my time packing up, wanting to delay my start to the day as much as possible. The ever familiar thought of, "Am I really going to be able to make it to my next stop?" ran in and out of my head all morning. Since everything was soaking wet when I arrived at Terrace Bay yesterday evening due to the freak rain shower, my gear was spread out all over the room. Finally everything was packed and the last thing I did was to change into my bike shorts. I did the usual slathering of the same concoction of 40% zinc oxide and A + D ointment, and tiger balm on my quads and sit bones. More Ibuprofen was downed and away I went. Today, I got a nice headwind. Great.
I knew that I would need to use all my remaining energy to get out of my body and into my head if I was going to last. My body was going to do what it was going to do. As painful as it is, this comes as no surprise anymore - only horrendous disappointment. But, the show must go on as I have said before. As I was biking along I thought much about Stephanie and relationships. I raced through the laundry list of challenges that I face in relationships. I've written about this before. I've also connected it to being an adoptee, from an attachment perspective. So, biking about 10 mph into a headwind and up more hills, I pondered this and connected it to this trip and part of the reason I am doing this bike ride. And in almost an instant, the picture became so clear to me. It was shocking and mildly entertaining. I had to chuckle at how it all came together.
I wrote a few days ago about the biking constant in my life. I do it for fitness, I do it to learn, I do it to heal, I do it to become, I do it because I love it. Today biking became a metaphor for relationships - in fact pretty much the whole first part of the day was one giant metaphor. Here's how it all shook out in my head. The road is a relationship. It can be long, short, or anywhere in between. It can be rough or smooth, or some of both. There are small cracks and cavernous ones the size of small canyons that can flatten a tire or dent a rim in the blink of an eye. There are hills - mountain passes - winding curves, and descents that are gentle and rolling, or a steep drop. There are others on this road. Some of those others cheer you on, some do nothing, others suck you in, while still others try and push you off the road. Sometimes there are unforeseen barriers - road construction, freak rainstorms, severe storms, flat tires,...other times, you get miles of a gentle descent with beautiful scenery, and for a little while, there seems to be no pain in your body.
The bike is your set of tools that you have to negotiate and navigate the road (metaphor for relationship). It takes alot of work to use the tools that you have. You have to know when to shift gears, when to get out of the saddle and push hard up that climb, when to coast and loosen your grips on the handlebars. You have to know when to brake and when to get off and take a rest. The bike needs to be taken care of so it can take care of you. It needs constant attention and maintenance. You have to know when to take the clues and cues. While all of this is going on, you are powering the bike. It can be draining and down right miserable at times. It also can be very rewarding and fulfilling other times. But the work is constant in order for it to keep going. For me, I bike because I love it. It gives me a sense of being, of belonging, and of necessity. It allows me to connect, intimately, with myself and what's around me. Even through the hard work and pain, I do it because I love it. In relationship, the bike is a collection of things such as communication tools, negotiating skills, compromises, compassion, forgiveness, trust, and love. They are all necessary for successful relationships, they all take work - hard work at times, and they always require ongoing practice and fine tuning.
The pain that has settled deep into my body is like the baggage I have with me all the time. We all have it. Most of the time, while always aware that it's there, I don't feel it. I just know it's there. Other times it comes surging forth with raging violence. I moan, I scream, I cry, I curse into the air. I want to give up. I want to quit. I am reminded of the pain my body carries and I am reminded with a vengeance. Sometimes in relationship, our baggage is triggered and it comes surging forward. Try as we might to hold it at bay, we are no match for the residual cumulative emotions of hurt that we have carried with us for so long. It's until we embrace this pain and bring it into the presence of each moment as part of that moment, and learn the ways to gently heal it, that we will always carry the same pain with us. Currently on this ride, I am just starting the process of embracing the pain. When it hurts so bad, it's hard to imagine bringing it in and allowing it to be a part of me and a part of this process when I want nothing more than for it to go away. It's a work in progress.
The wind represented forces that cause tension and stress in relationship. While in my face it nearly stops me from progressing. I get down in my tuck trying to get out of it as much as possible in order to keep pushing on. It steals away the enjoyment of a downhill after laboring up a mountain pass. It nearly wipes me off the edge of the cliff as it bursts into my side. It roars in my ears - screaming and mocking relentlessly. The sweat pours down my face, the curse words come out, the breathing becomes anguished, and the burn in my quads is unbearable. But, I push through because the wind will not defeat me. Then, with one turn, what was once my enemy, my stress, my misery, is now my aid, my coach, my power. I am carried up the hills by its friendly push. I am cooled by its gentle fanning. I am carried along almost effortlessly by its guiding currents.
As this whole metaphor played out before me, I began to again think about Stephanie and my relationship with her. We're doing the long distance thing because of her job in Louisville. I think we're still in the adjustment period and with me on this bike trip and Stephanie still settling into her life in Louisville, I think we've been plenty distracted. I know a long distance relationship will be a big test of my abilities to navigate the relationship road with all of its challenges and rewards. As I think back on past relationships and critical formative experiences, I know I have been hurt, I know I have hurt others, and I know I have hurt myself. I don't think that means I am damaged goods forever, but it will take me and only me to make those repairs and keep up with the necessary maintenance. My heart is happy with Stephanie and it feels good. Even though we are far apart, I feel good about our communication and our negotiating of the time we can spend together. While far from perfect, I try hard to not carry in old wounds. That's something that still needs more work, but I do trust her and since we are faced with having to do a long distance relationship, I can't think of anyone else I'd want to do this with and feel fairly comfortable about it. Don't get me wrong, it's still far less than ideal, but we do what we can with what we're given and we work hard and because we are committed, we make it work. I want to continue in this relationship and work through whatever curves might come up in our road, steep mountain passes we have to climb, semi-trucks almost running us over, etc., together because I know we can do it together. I have a confidence in this like I haven't felt before. As I was thinking about all of this and smiling, and feeling my heart smile at just the thought of Stephanie, I said aloud, "I believe I can do this."
"I believe I can do this" is a mantra I kept repeating to myself all through the ride today. I believe I can make it up this hill. I believe I can make it to my next stopping point. I believe I can conquer my pain. I believe I can make it until the end of the week. I believe I can make it to the end of the ride. I believe in myself that I can do this! And in keeping with the metaphor of this bike ride to relationship, I believe I can do this relationship and do it well with Stephanie. I felt a surge of reassuring optimism and emotion course through my body. My eyes welled with tears - good ones this time - and I just felt like this moment, this trip, this relationship, me - this is all right and good. I can have coaches and cheerleaders. I can have motivators and inspiration. I can heal and grow. But, at the end of the day, if I don't believe it for my own self and in myself, those coaches, cheerleaders, inspirers, etc., are only going to carry me as far as their words. "I believe I can do this" is a mantra that has to go beyond being said aloud. It has to be felt and lived to every word, to every moment, all the way through.
My biking constant gave me high clarity and presence of mind and body today. It connected the physical with the emotional and I felt grateful and humbled. The panoramic scenery of Lake Superior and the pine covered mountains only added to the visible component of the grandeur of the whole day. I stopped for lunch at the summit of a climb, perched on a rocky outcropping watching the cars and trucks trapsing up and down the hill. I journaled about my thoughts while, once again, partaking in a peanut butter/banana/honey sandwich and granola. I'm just over a quarter of the way done with the ride. Day 6 is now done. I have 14 days left - 3 days left in Canada. It's been an epic ride so far!
This morning was a rough one. Day 6 brought much pain to the usual area. In addition, my quads were screaming all through the night. Having biked up and down mountains yesterday really left its mark. This morning I felt so hopeless, again. Having had a very restless night of sleep and being in agonizing pain, tears welled up in my eyes as I tried to get down some soggy hashbrowns, toast, and rubbery eggs my mom had brought back for breakfast. She and Helene had volunteered to go get me breakfast so that I could sleep. I think the hour or so they were gone was the most I'd slept consistently since starting this ride. Once again I didn't know how I was going to manage another 50-some miles sitting on that damn bike saddle. Talk of medical attention entered into the conversation. I keep entertaining the thought but am sure there's nothing that can be done other then the doctor telling me to rest for a few days and let things heal up. I know at least ONE rest day would do me wonders, but I didn't budget for it in my planning. Stupid on my part, but I had no idea. Lesson learned...the hard way.
I took my time packing up, wanting to delay my start to the day as much as possible. The ever familiar thought of, "Am I really going to be able to make it to my next stop?" ran in and out of my head all morning. Since everything was soaking wet when I arrived at Terrace Bay yesterday evening due to the freak rain shower, my gear was spread out all over the room. Finally everything was packed and the last thing I did was to change into my bike shorts. I did the usual slathering of the same concoction of 40% zinc oxide and A + D ointment, and tiger balm on my quads and sit bones. More Ibuprofen was downed and away I went. Today, I got a nice headwind. Great.
I knew that I would need to use all my remaining energy to get out of my body and into my head if I was going to last. My body was going to do what it was going to do. As painful as it is, this comes as no surprise anymore - only horrendous disappointment. But, the show must go on as I have said before. As I was biking along I thought much about Stephanie and relationships. I raced through the laundry list of challenges that I face in relationships. I've written about this before. I've also connected it to being an adoptee, from an attachment perspective. So, biking about 10 mph into a headwind and up more hills, I pondered this and connected it to this trip and part of the reason I am doing this bike ride. And in almost an instant, the picture became so clear to me. It was shocking and mildly entertaining. I had to chuckle at how it all came together.
I wrote a few days ago about the biking constant in my life. I do it for fitness, I do it to learn, I do it to heal, I do it to become, I do it because I love it. Today biking became a metaphor for relationships - in fact pretty much the whole first part of the day was one giant metaphor. Here's how it all shook out in my head. The road is a relationship. It can be long, short, or anywhere in between. It can be rough or smooth, or some of both. There are small cracks and cavernous ones the size of small canyons that can flatten a tire or dent a rim in the blink of an eye. There are hills - mountain passes - winding curves, and descents that are gentle and rolling, or a steep drop. There are others on this road. Some of those others cheer you on, some do nothing, others suck you in, while still others try and push you off the road. Sometimes there are unforeseen barriers - road construction, freak rainstorms, severe storms, flat tires,...other times, you get miles of a gentle descent with beautiful scenery, and for a little while, there seems to be no pain in your body.
The bike is your set of tools that you have to negotiate and navigate the road (metaphor for relationship). It takes alot of work to use the tools that you have. You have to know when to shift gears, when to get out of the saddle and push hard up that climb, when to coast and loosen your grips on the handlebars. You have to know when to brake and when to get off and take a rest. The bike needs to be taken care of so it can take care of you. It needs constant attention and maintenance. You have to know when to take the clues and cues. While all of this is going on, you are powering the bike. It can be draining and down right miserable at times. It also can be very rewarding and fulfilling other times. But the work is constant in order for it to keep going. For me, I bike because I love it. It gives me a sense of being, of belonging, and of necessity. It allows me to connect, intimately, with myself and what's around me. Even through the hard work and pain, I do it because I love it. In relationship, the bike is a collection of things such as communication tools, negotiating skills, compromises, compassion, forgiveness, trust, and love. They are all necessary for successful relationships, they all take work - hard work at times, and they always require ongoing practice and fine tuning.
The pain that has settled deep into my body is like the baggage I have with me all the time. We all have it. Most of the time, while always aware that it's there, I don't feel it. I just know it's there. Other times it comes surging forth with raging violence. I moan, I scream, I cry, I curse into the air. I want to give up. I want to quit. I am reminded of the pain my body carries and I am reminded with a vengeance. Sometimes in relationship, our baggage is triggered and it comes surging forward. Try as we might to hold it at bay, we are no match for the residual cumulative emotions of hurt that we have carried with us for so long. It's until we embrace this pain and bring it into the presence of each moment as part of that moment, and learn the ways to gently heal it, that we will always carry the same pain with us. Currently on this ride, I am just starting the process of embracing the pain. When it hurts so bad, it's hard to imagine bringing it in and allowing it to be a part of me and a part of this process when I want nothing more than for it to go away. It's a work in progress.
The wind represented forces that cause tension and stress in relationship. While in my face it nearly stops me from progressing. I get down in my tuck trying to get out of it as much as possible in order to keep pushing on. It steals away the enjoyment of a downhill after laboring up a mountain pass. It nearly wipes me off the edge of the cliff as it bursts into my side. It roars in my ears - screaming and mocking relentlessly. The sweat pours down my face, the curse words come out, the breathing becomes anguished, and the burn in my quads is unbearable. But, I push through because the wind will not defeat me. Then, with one turn, what was once my enemy, my stress, my misery, is now my aid, my coach, my power. I am carried up the hills by its friendly push. I am cooled by its gentle fanning. I am carried along almost effortlessly by its guiding currents.
As this whole metaphor played out before me, I began to again think about Stephanie and my relationship with her. We're doing the long distance thing because of her job in Louisville. I think we're still in the adjustment period and with me on this bike trip and Stephanie still settling into her life in Louisville, I think we've been plenty distracted. I know a long distance relationship will be a big test of my abilities to navigate the relationship road with all of its challenges and rewards. As I think back on past relationships and critical formative experiences, I know I have been hurt, I know I have hurt others, and I know I have hurt myself. I don't think that means I am damaged goods forever, but it will take me and only me to make those repairs and keep up with the necessary maintenance. My heart is happy with Stephanie and it feels good. Even though we are far apart, I feel good about our communication and our negotiating of the time we can spend together. While far from perfect, I try hard to not carry in old wounds. That's something that still needs more work, but I do trust her and since we are faced with having to do a long distance relationship, I can't think of anyone else I'd want to do this with and feel fairly comfortable about it. Don't get me wrong, it's still far less than ideal, but we do what we can with what we're given and we work hard and because we are committed, we make it work. I want to continue in this relationship and work through whatever curves might come up in our road, steep mountain passes we have to climb, semi-trucks almost running us over, etc., together because I know we can do it together. I have a confidence in this like I haven't felt before. As I was thinking about all of this and smiling, and feeling my heart smile at just the thought of Stephanie, I said aloud, "I believe I can do this."
"I believe I can do this" is a mantra I kept repeating to myself all through the ride today. I believe I can make it up this hill. I believe I can make it to my next stopping point. I believe I can conquer my pain. I believe I can make it until the end of the week. I believe I can make it to the end of the ride. I believe in myself that I can do this! And in keeping with the metaphor of this bike ride to relationship, I believe I can do this relationship and do it well with Stephanie. I felt a surge of reassuring optimism and emotion course through my body. My eyes welled with tears - good ones this time - and I just felt like this moment, this trip, this relationship, me - this is all right and good. I can have coaches and cheerleaders. I can have motivators and inspiration. I can heal and grow. But, at the end of the day, if I don't believe it for my own self and in myself, those coaches, cheerleaders, inspirers, etc., are only going to carry me as far as their words. "I believe I can do this" is a mantra that has to go beyond being said aloud. It has to be felt and lived to every word, to every moment, all the way through.
My biking constant gave me high clarity and presence of mind and body today. It connected the physical with the emotional and I felt grateful and humbled. The panoramic scenery of Lake Superior and the pine covered mountains only added to the visible component of the grandeur of the whole day. I stopped for lunch at the summit of a climb, perched on a rocky outcropping watching the cars and trucks trapsing up and down the hill. I journaled about my thoughts while, once again, partaking in a peanut butter/banana/honey sandwich and granola. I'm just over a quarter of the way done with the ride. Day 6 is now done. I have 14 days left - 3 days left in Canada. It's been an epic ride so far!
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Canadian Mountains
I didn't have it in me to go sit in a restaurant to eat dinner. I feel like crap. I look like crap. I'm freezing and have no warm clothes, and I'm waiting for my laundry to be done (thank you Bev at the Norwood Motel for getting the ok from your boss for me to use the motel's laundry facilities!).
Today's ride started out just after a brief sprinkle of rain. We had been watching the weather since last night. Forty percent chance of rain all day today. Dressed in my very non-breathable rain gear, I headed out. I probably made it about 25 miles and had to strip on the side of the road. I was just too warm. You know when you're in the shower and sometimes a vacuum is created by the hot water and it causes the shower curtain to coil its slimy wet self around your wet body? Well, I felt like I was biking in that shower curtain in my rain gear. Life was a little more bearable after prompt roadside removal of said "shower curtain."
Rolling hills gave me a beautiful start to the ride today. The clouds seemed to be held at bay by the lake. The air was lightly scented with wildflowers. It was subtle and floated gently on the breeze. The fresh sweetly flavored air was therapeutic. For awhile it actually cleared up and the sun made an appearance and continued its speedy browning of my skin. I've got some great tan lines! The woman at the motel in Nipigon said this would be a pretty ride because we'd be able to see the lake. She was right. It was breathtaking at the tops of some of those hills. Many photos were taken this morning. After a great ride yesterday, my spirits were high as I set out. The beautiful scenery only added to my good mood.
The terrain abruptly changed. No more rolling hills. No, now I was faced with mountains! I trudged up very steep, very long mountain passes that reduced my speed to a pitiful 3 mph at times. With my heart racing, breathing labored, quads burning, ears popping, and sweat pouring in torrents down my face, I made my way to the top of pass after pass after pass. It was endless! I started gauging the severity of each pass based on the semi-trucks in front of me. If they slowed down, put their hazard lights on, and took over the shoulder, I knew I was in for a good climb. At one point, I was severely lacking in calories. I had no fuel left to burn. I stopped about 3/4 of the way up a pass and sat on a rock in the shade eating my peanut butter/banana/honey sandwich watching the trucks labor up the hill and taking in the beautiful panoramic bird's eye view of the lake and valley below. I only wish I would have remembered my camera cables so I could have been uploading photos as I go and sharing them with my blog readers. All of the views from the tops of those climbs were amazing. Firmly believing in the saying, "what goes up, must come down," in order to get me to the tops of those climbs, I enjoyed some great descents. The longest steepest climb had a descent to it that brought me up to 40 mph coasting speed! I think that's the fastest I've ever gone on a bicycle. It was quite a rush. Of course I couldn't keep away those pesky thoughts of hitting a rock the wrong way and going flying through the air to certain death, and/or very important screws coming loose off my wheel, thus throwing me into the air to certain death. Lovely huh?
It's funny. I think that billboards are such an eyesore, however, the billboards I have been seeing ever since I entered Canada have kept me great company and have been wonderful motivators. Advertisements for hotels, gas stations, souvenier shops, towing companies, restaurants, and other area attractions are highlighted often on my route. It makes it seem like the next town is a reasonable distance away - which by car it definitely is. By bike, it feels terribly far, and I think without those billboards, it would seem hopelessly far. Most of the time they don't indicate mileage. Every now and then though, they'll say how far away the next town is and I quickly do the conversion from kilometers to miles. I have a slight sense of renewed energy - undetectable by the outside observer, and barely detectable by me, but it's there - when the miles are below 10 to the next town - even moreso if it's my stopping point for the night.
My body was not awesome today. More time in the saddle proved almost too much for me. I stopped about halfway through my ride at a really disgusting vault toilet at a roadside picnic area to slather on more 40% zinc oxide and A + D ointment. Trying desperately not to gag at the horrendous smell rising up from the bowels (literally) of the pit toilet that soaked the air inside the non-ventilated structure, I tried as best I could to make this affair a brief one. After about 20 minutes, the slathering seemed to calm the tremendous discomfort I was feeling and I was able to keep pushing on. About 10 minutes from my stopping point, the clouds finally made it through the invisible force field from the lake that seemed to keep them away all day. The skies opened up and it poured! I didn't have a chance to get into my rain gear or get my cameras into their waterproof bags. I made it to the hotel and quickly emptied all my bike bags. There was standing water in the handlebar bag where my cameras were. Luckily I saved them before they drown. Bev (the nice woman who works here at the Norwood Hotel) came down with rags and towels for my bike and me. I toweled everything off as best I could. Of course it stopped raining and got sunny about 10 minutes after I had arrived at the hotel. Hopefully tomorrow everything will be dried out for my next ride, which I believe will be 50-some miles of more mountain passes along the lake to Marathon, Ontario. Right now, with a belly full of spaghetti, I just want to sleep for the next 3 days. I haven't had a full night's sleep since this trip began. I'm in desperate need!
Today's ride started out just after a brief sprinkle of rain. We had been watching the weather since last night. Forty percent chance of rain all day today. Dressed in my very non-breathable rain gear, I headed out. I probably made it about 25 miles and had to strip on the side of the road. I was just too warm. You know when you're in the shower and sometimes a vacuum is created by the hot water and it causes the shower curtain to coil its slimy wet self around your wet body? Well, I felt like I was biking in that shower curtain in my rain gear. Life was a little more bearable after prompt roadside removal of said "shower curtain."
Rolling hills gave me a beautiful start to the ride today. The clouds seemed to be held at bay by the lake. The air was lightly scented with wildflowers. It was subtle and floated gently on the breeze. The fresh sweetly flavored air was therapeutic. For awhile it actually cleared up and the sun made an appearance and continued its speedy browning of my skin. I've got some great tan lines! The woman at the motel in Nipigon said this would be a pretty ride because we'd be able to see the lake. She was right. It was breathtaking at the tops of some of those hills. Many photos were taken this morning. After a great ride yesterday, my spirits were high as I set out. The beautiful scenery only added to my good mood.
The terrain abruptly changed. No more rolling hills. No, now I was faced with mountains! I trudged up very steep, very long mountain passes that reduced my speed to a pitiful 3 mph at times. With my heart racing, breathing labored, quads burning, ears popping, and sweat pouring in torrents down my face, I made my way to the top of pass after pass after pass. It was endless! I started gauging the severity of each pass based on the semi-trucks in front of me. If they slowed down, put their hazard lights on, and took over the shoulder, I knew I was in for a good climb. At one point, I was severely lacking in calories. I had no fuel left to burn. I stopped about 3/4 of the way up a pass and sat on a rock in the shade eating my peanut butter/banana/honey sandwich watching the trucks labor up the hill and taking in the beautiful panoramic bird's eye view of the lake and valley below. I only wish I would have remembered my camera cables so I could have been uploading photos as I go and sharing them with my blog readers. All of the views from the tops of those climbs were amazing. Firmly believing in the saying, "what goes up, must come down," in order to get me to the tops of those climbs, I enjoyed some great descents. The longest steepest climb had a descent to it that brought me up to 40 mph coasting speed! I think that's the fastest I've ever gone on a bicycle. It was quite a rush. Of course I couldn't keep away those pesky thoughts of hitting a rock the wrong way and going flying through the air to certain death, and/or very important screws coming loose off my wheel, thus throwing me into the air to certain death. Lovely huh?
It's funny. I think that billboards are such an eyesore, however, the billboards I have been seeing ever since I entered Canada have kept me great company and have been wonderful motivators. Advertisements for hotels, gas stations, souvenier shops, towing companies, restaurants, and other area attractions are highlighted often on my route. It makes it seem like the next town is a reasonable distance away - which by car it definitely is. By bike, it feels terribly far, and I think without those billboards, it would seem hopelessly far. Most of the time they don't indicate mileage. Every now and then though, they'll say how far away the next town is and I quickly do the conversion from kilometers to miles. I have a slight sense of renewed energy - undetectable by the outside observer, and barely detectable by me, but it's there - when the miles are below 10 to the next town - even moreso if it's my stopping point for the night.
My body was not awesome today. More time in the saddle proved almost too much for me. I stopped about halfway through my ride at a really disgusting vault toilet at a roadside picnic area to slather on more 40% zinc oxide and A + D ointment. Trying desperately not to gag at the horrendous smell rising up from the bowels (literally) of the pit toilet that soaked the air inside the non-ventilated structure, I tried as best I could to make this affair a brief one. After about 20 minutes, the slathering seemed to calm the tremendous discomfort I was feeling and I was able to keep pushing on. About 10 minutes from my stopping point, the clouds finally made it through the invisible force field from the lake that seemed to keep them away all day. The skies opened up and it poured! I didn't have a chance to get into my rain gear or get my cameras into their waterproof bags. I made it to the hotel and quickly emptied all my bike bags. There was standing water in the handlebar bag where my cameras were. Luckily I saved them before they drown. Bev (the nice woman who works here at the Norwood Hotel) came down with rags and towels for my bike and me. I toweled everything off as best I could. Of course it stopped raining and got sunny about 10 minutes after I had arrived at the hotel. Hopefully tomorrow everything will be dried out for my next ride, which I believe will be 50-some miles of more mountain passes along the lake to Marathon, Ontario. Right now, with a belly full of spaghetti, I just want to sleep for the next 3 days. I haven't had a full night's sleep since this trip began. I'm in desperate need!
Monday, August 8, 2011
Thumbs Up
Last night, at the end of day 3, my body was ready to give up. I was in so much pain, mostly from sitting for so many miles in the saddle. The chaffing had got so bad that it hurt to do anything except to lie still and not have anything touch anything. The night passed with restless brief bouts of sleep. I was thinking too much about whether or not my body had reached its physical capacity with this ride - at least for now - and would fail to go any further. At some point I awoke in the early morning hours before the sun came up. I stumbled into the bathroom to pee feeling that all-too-familiar burning, irritating, sharp pain like someone was grinding sandpaper across my crotch. My heart sank further (if that was even possible) as I was sure I would not be able to ride in a few short hours when my alarm would go off. I got back in bed and tried to reason with myself and to comfort myself if I had to sacrifice today's miles in order to heal my hurting body.
When my alarm finally went off, I was late to rise. I think I had given up hope and was in no hurry to try and get back on my bike. I eventually decided I would go for as long as I could go and stop if I needed to. I slathered on the 40% zinc oxide (I'll just be referring to it as such. The specification of it has a special place in my heart) and the A + D ointment to add an additional layer of protection (thank you Cassie!), globbed some tiger balm on to my quads, my neck, and my shoulders, as well as my sit bones. I downed 800 mg of Ibuprophen with the rest of my barrage of vitamins and other muscle and joint aids that come in the form of pills. I racked my bike and had to catch a lift 13 miles out of Thunder Bay because bicycles were not permitted on the highway through town. I was glad for this ride. It mean more time out of the saddle and less miles overall. This was a sacrifice in miles I was more than willing to make.
We got to a pull off place and I loaded up my bike with the panniers, rack bag, and handlebar bag. I strapped into my CamelBak backpack. As the cooling burn of the tiger balm penetrated deep into my body, I was eager to get on my bike and get going before its effects wore off. I mounted my bike, said goodbye to my sag team, and was off into the hills of Canada. It took a few minutes of adjusting and reacquainting myself with the bike saddle. I felt those sharp stings of pain as my crotch hollered out for the abuse to end. Soon enough though, I managed to find a tolerable position and not long after that, I settled into a good pace. Once again I was given a beautiful morning to start out my ride. The sun was warm as it enveloped my skin and the slight breeze cooled me as it evaporated the perspiration on my body.
I knew today's route would be challenging. I was warned about the lack of shoulder on the TransCanada Highway. They weren't kidding! This was a very treacherous ride in some places. Most of the time I had maybe a foot and a half shoulder to ride on. Sometimes it was wider, and unfortunately, sometimes it didn't exist at all. The semi trucks and large RVs pulling trailers and cars behind them were the most relentless passing me. While some were courteous enough to move over a bit, most did not. With only a few inches between me and certain death, they sped on by. The sudden burst of wind from the air current in their wake about knocked me off what little road I had to be on. I grew very fond of my foot and a half wide shoulders. I found myself speeding as best I could to the next segment of the highway that would have them when I found myself without. The adrenaline was coursing through my body. I think I spent most of the ride looking in my rear view mirrors so that I could prepare myself for whatever kind of vehicle was approaching from behind. As they barreled closer, I gripped the handlebars tightly and locked my body up so as to hold the bike as steady as possible until they passed, each time breathing a huge sigh of relief that I was still pedaling on the road.
I am convinced that the adrenaline and a great tail wind - but mostly the adrenaline - got me through this ride. Scary is an understatement biking on this road. I just wanted to be done as quickly as possible. Also, thankfully, with the 13 mile breather to get out of Thunder Bay, my ride was cut down to about 54 miles. I am very thankful it was not 79. I think the distance between Thunder Bay and Nipigon is measured from where Thunder Bay starts and our hotel there was more towards the middle of town. That accounted for the rest of the missing miles from the original 79 I thought I had to ride. As I was riding along, during the moments I had more shoulder to deal with, I would tune out of the fear for my life and into my body - checking and re-checking how everything was feeling. Surprisingly, I felt amazing! This is the best I've felt since starting this trip 4 days ago. Even my sciatic nerve that has been bothering me was fine, which of course meant that my feet (mostly my left foot) didn't really bother me either. As I was sitting outside the motel room in Nipigon with my SAG team, I was mentioning how I hoped that last night was the bottom of the barrel for me and things will be better from now on - continuing to improve as I go. As I cycled along this beautiful stretch of highway, I felt like I was in the mountains of Colorado. With the great mountainous rocky cliffs and the dense pines along the bases - it was beautiful. There were plenty of rivers that the highway crossed over with their meandering paths through the rocks and the forest. The sunlight twinkled on the surface of the flowing water, seeming to dance with delight during this wonderful morning. The railroad tracks ran parallel to the highway for awhile off in the distance. I followed a freight train as it headed east to wherever its destination was. It was like looking at a scene from an intricately laid out model train scape - just beautiful!
Not too far into my ride I passed another cyclist headed the opposite direction. We made eye contact and gave each other the proper biker head nod - a nod that shows acknowledgement and approval. This cyclist also had packs on their bike and I wondered if they were doing the same thing I was doing but headed in the opposite direction. This is the first cyclist I've seen (at least that looked like they were doing some distance riding around the lake) since I pushed off from Duluth 4 days ago. A little while later as I was climbing a decent hill, a car traveling in the opposite direction honked. I looked up and the driver had their hand sticking out the window giving me a thumbs up. A renewed sense of energy and vigor raced through my body. I could feel my heart pound with enthusiasm and every muscle pull and contract as I continued to push up the hill. That small sense of acknowledgement and encouragement felt amazing - especially after dealing with the loneliness aspect of this journey a couple of days ago as I was leaving Grand Marais, Minnesota. Yet a few more miles down the road, a semi truck, also headed in the opposite direction, honked and waved a wave of encouragement. It added to my overall feeling of renewal, energy, and drive that carried me all the way to Nipigon and is still reverberating in my at this moment. I can feel the energy even as I write about it!
I wasn't alone on my ride today. I was flooded with the memories, sights, and sounds of my friends and loved ones in my mind. Y'all kept me company out on the road today. Remembering silly stories, fond memories, the laughter, and all your beautiful faces that I cant wait to see when I return. It was just what I needed. And since my body was feeling tremendously wonderful, I was able to tune out of the pain I had normally been feeling and into that which I am so grateful for. For those of you who have been continuing to send me positive energy, I definitely felt it on this ride! Today was a day of perfection so far. Perfect conditions, near perfect physically, and perfectly happy thoughts. I made it 54 miles in 4 hours - my best time yet considering the terrain and all the weight I am carrying on my bike. I even beat my SAG team here. While they were backtracking looking for my crumpled neon yellow (the color of my shell vest for visibility) body in the ditch somewhere, I was locking in the miles. Thankfully my cell worked to make an outgoing call (at 69 cents a minute internationally) from the motel and I called my mom to let her know where I was. They were still a half hour out of town - the whole time not thinking I could have been as far as I was, especially because they both bore witness to my deflated broken body and spirit yesterday. As I waited for them, I sat at a picnic table in the sun. I ate a late lunch that consisted of an apple, a peanut butter, banana, and honey sandwich, and a few handfuls of trail mix. I journaled and had a brief conversation with a couple of little dogs that came over to check me out - pets of the owners of this small road-side motel.
Today was what I needed. I know it's only one day and I have no idea how I will feel tomorrow. For now, my mind, body, and spirit are all operating from the same level of euphoria. I am excited to get back out on the road tomorrow for once. I hope the weather will still be decent, but if not, I think I'll be ok. While I am still battling some stomach issues, currently, that is my only complaint. Tonight I'll slather on more 40% zinc oxide and hope for some more magical healing so that tomorrow may be a continuation of today.
When my alarm finally went off, I was late to rise. I think I had given up hope and was in no hurry to try and get back on my bike. I eventually decided I would go for as long as I could go and stop if I needed to. I slathered on the 40% zinc oxide (I'll just be referring to it as such. The specification of it has a special place in my heart) and the A + D ointment to add an additional layer of protection (thank you Cassie!), globbed some tiger balm on to my quads, my neck, and my shoulders, as well as my sit bones. I downed 800 mg of Ibuprophen with the rest of my barrage of vitamins and other muscle and joint aids that come in the form of pills. I racked my bike and had to catch a lift 13 miles out of Thunder Bay because bicycles were not permitted on the highway through town. I was glad for this ride. It mean more time out of the saddle and less miles overall. This was a sacrifice in miles I was more than willing to make.
We got to a pull off place and I loaded up my bike with the panniers, rack bag, and handlebar bag. I strapped into my CamelBak backpack. As the cooling burn of the tiger balm penetrated deep into my body, I was eager to get on my bike and get going before its effects wore off. I mounted my bike, said goodbye to my sag team, and was off into the hills of Canada. It took a few minutes of adjusting and reacquainting myself with the bike saddle. I felt those sharp stings of pain as my crotch hollered out for the abuse to end. Soon enough though, I managed to find a tolerable position and not long after that, I settled into a good pace. Once again I was given a beautiful morning to start out my ride. The sun was warm as it enveloped my skin and the slight breeze cooled me as it evaporated the perspiration on my body.
I knew today's route would be challenging. I was warned about the lack of shoulder on the TransCanada Highway. They weren't kidding! This was a very treacherous ride in some places. Most of the time I had maybe a foot and a half shoulder to ride on. Sometimes it was wider, and unfortunately, sometimes it didn't exist at all. The semi trucks and large RVs pulling trailers and cars behind them were the most relentless passing me. While some were courteous enough to move over a bit, most did not. With only a few inches between me and certain death, they sped on by. The sudden burst of wind from the air current in their wake about knocked me off what little road I had to be on. I grew very fond of my foot and a half wide shoulders. I found myself speeding as best I could to the next segment of the highway that would have them when I found myself without. The adrenaline was coursing through my body. I think I spent most of the ride looking in my rear view mirrors so that I could prepare myself for whatever kind of vehicle was approaching from behind. As they barreled closer, I gripped the handlebars tightly and locked my body up so as to hold the bike as steady as possible until they passed, each time breathing a huge sigh of relief that I was still pedaling on the road.
I am convinced that the adrenaline and a great tail wind - but mostly the adrenaline - got me through this ride. Scary is an understatement biking on this road. I just wanted to be done as quickly as possible. Also, thankfully, with the 13 mile breather to get out of Thunder Bay, my ride was cut down to about 54 miles. I am very thankful it was not 79. I think the distance between Thunder Bay and Nipigon is measured from where Thunder Bay starts and our hotel there was more towards the middle of town. That accounted for the rest of the missing miles from the original 79 I thought I had to ride. As I was riding along, during the moments I had more shoulder to deal with, I would tune out of the fear for my life and into my body - checking and re-checking how everything was feeling. Surprisingly, I felt amazing! This is the best I've felt since starting this trip 4 days ago. Even my sciatic nerve that has been bothering me was fine, which of course meant that my feet (mostly my left foot) didn't really bother me either. As I was sitting outside the motel room in Nipigon with my SAG team, I was mentioning how I hoped that last night was the bottom of the barrel for me and things will be better from now on - continuing to improve as I go. As I cycled along this beautiful stretch of highway, I felt like I was in the mountains of Colorado. With the great mountainous rocky cliffs and the dense pines along the bases - it was beautiful. There were plenty of rivers that the highway crossed over with their meandering paths through the rocks and the forest. The sunlight twinkled on the surface of the flowing water, seeming to dance with delight during this wonderful morning. The railroad tracks ran parallel to the highway for awhile off in the distance. I followed a freight train as it headed east to wherever its destination was. It was like looking at a scene from an intricately laid out model train scape - just beautiful!
Not too far into my ride I passed another cyclist headed the opposite direction. We made eye contact and gave each other the proper biker head nod - a nod that shows acknowledgement and approval. This cyclist also had packs on their bike and I wondered if they were doing the same thing I was doing but headed in the opposite direction. This is the first cyclist I've seen (at least that looked like they were doing some distance riding around the lake) since I pushed off from Duluth 4 days ago. A little while later as I was climbing a decent hill, a car traveling in the opposite direction honked. I looked up and the driver had their hand sticking out the window giving me a thumbs up. A renewed sense of energy and vigor raced through my body. I could feel my heart pound with enthusiasm and every muscle pull and contract as I continued to push up the hill. That small sense of acknowledgement and encouragement felt amazing - especially after dealing with the loneliness aspect of this journey a couple of days ago as I was leaving Grand Marais, Minnesota. Yet a few more miles down the road, a semi truck, also headed in the opposite direction, honked and waved a wave of encouragement. It added to my overall feeling of renewal, energy, and drive that carried me all the way to Nipigon and is still reverberating in my at this moment. I can feel the energy even as I write about it!
I wasn't alone on my ride today. I was flooded with the memories, sights, and sounds of my friends and loved ones in my mind. Y'all kept me company out on the road today. Remembering silly stories, fond memories, the laughter, and all your beautiful faces that I cant wait to see when I return. It was just what I needed. And since my body was feeling tremendously wonderful, I was able to tune out of the pain I had normally been feeling and into that which I am so grateful for. For those of you who have been continuing to send me positive energy, I definitely felt it on this ride! Today was a day of perfection so far. Perfect conditions, near perfect physically, and perfectly happy thoughts. I made it 54 miles in 4 hours - my best time yet considering the terrain and all the weight I am carrying on my bike. I even beat my SAG team here. While they were backtracking looking for my crumpled neon yellow (the color of my shell vest for visibility) body in the ditch somewhere, I was locking in the miles. Thankfully my cell worked to make an outgoing call (at 69 cents a minute internationally) from the motel and I called my mom to let her know where I was. They were still a half hour out of town - the whole time not thinking I could have been as far as I was, especially because they both bore witness to my deflated broken body and spirit yesterday. As I waited for them, I sat at a picnic table in the sun. I ate a late lunch that consisted of an apple, a peanut butter, banana, and honey sandwich, and a few handfuls of trail mix. I journaled and had a brief conversation with a couple of little dogs that came over to check me out - pets of the owners of this small road-side motel.
Today was what I needed. I know it's only one day and I have no idea how I will feel tomorrow. For now, my mind, body, and spirit are all operating from the same level of euphoria. I am excited to get back out on the road tomorrow for once. I hope the weather will still be decent, but if not, I think I'll be ok. While I am still battling some stomach issues, currently, that is my only complaint. Tonight I'll slather on more 40% zinc oxide and hope for some more magical healing so that tomorrow may be a continuation of today.
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