Another Day… and Grandma Lisa
Today was equally as ‘epic’ as yesterday. First, it was the longest ride of the trek so far (87.5 miles). Second, it was like three separate days packed into one full day, a day with three different Acts.
Act 1: I pushed off at 8:15 on a bright, sunny morning with the temperature reading of 59 degrees. I rode 8 miles on US 20 and then picked up ID 33 northeast. As yesterday, I had favorable tailwinds on an empty country road, nothing but the high desert landscape and the sound of the wind. I reached the small farming village of Howe after 24 relatively easy miles.
Act 2: I was overjoyed when, leaving Howe, the tailwind continued. I rode the first 5 miles out of Howe at an average speed of 15 mph. But, the wind is fickle in Idaho. In what seemed like an instant, the wind literally reversed direction, and I found myself slogging in the sun against the wind, pushing hard just to hit 10 mph. This continued for over 25 miles. The road rose and there were no trees or human structure to break the relentless wind. And the temperature rose… into the triple digits.
There was one sparkle of light in the afternoon that did not come from the sun. At mile 37, I was packing up after taking a rest when a car sped by and came to an abrupt halt. There were 2 bicycles attached to a rack on the trunk. The car had missed its turn, and so the driver pulled around to change direction. As they passed me, a young woman in the passenger seat leaned out and asked, “Are you OK?”
“I am doing great,” I responded.
With equal parts warmth and encouragement she replied, “You are doing awesome!” and as they sped away her partner in the driver’s seat let out a series of whoops and pumped his left fist in the air several times.
And this happened in the so-called middle of nowhere.
Act 3: The wind subsided somewhat and I continued to grind away the miles. As the afternoon progressed, the eastern sky became darker and I could see distant sheets of rain pouring from the clouds in the distance. At mile 66 I crossed over Interstate 15, and the wind did its thing once more. A few miles later I pulled over for a wardrobe adjustment and as I returned to the bike, the wind shifted into an even higher gear, first raising clouds of dust and then shooting them horizontally across the road, south to north. So strong was the crosswind that it effortlessly pushed me towards the road and had to lean into the wind at a 45-degree angle relative to the road just to stay upright. A few times the wind gusted and almost brought my bike to a standstill! Lightning flashed in the distance. Would I make it to Rexburg where Joanie was waiting? Was it too dangerous to stay on the road? I was determined to make it all the way. I felt I was able to compensate for the wind to remain safe, and the lightning was off in the distance, and I was still dry, so I kept slogging my way east into an ever-darkening sky. I made it to the van right as the sky erupted with rain.
What can I say? Was it hard? Yes. Did I suffer? Yes. But the internal sense of accomplishment after completing the ride made it all worthwhile.
Old World Superstition
Yesterday I made an offhand comment to Joanie that all the minor aches and pains I had prior to the trip are now gone. “Shhhh!” she replied, as if I was tempting fate with such a comment. I thought she sounded like my Grandma Lisa with her old world superstitions. And today, as I pedaled slowly in the heat, I thought how I am burning about 2800 calories each ride, and that my already thin frame has thinned even more. Which reminded me of Grandma Lisa again. I have an old memory of her trying to get me to fatten up.
“Eat, Douglas! You’re skinny as a rooster,” she would intone.
And then she would try the competitive angle. “Douglas, why don’t you eat your Corn Flakes? Your cousin Alan, he eats all his Corn Flakes.”
I swear, Grandma, on this trek I eat a ton each night but I still remain skinny as a rooster.