Pain and Gain
Pain
i managed to strain the tissue or muscles in my rib cage on the right side on Monday evening. It was minor until, a couple of hours later, I sat up in bed using just my core muscles and the pain meter jumped into the red. Actually, it was purple for a few minutes. I was so uncomfortable that I entertained doubts that I would be able to ride the next day. I had an interrupted night’s sleep (I would wake up and hear myself saying “ Ow! Ow! Ow!). I felt a little better in the morning, and now, three days later, I am managing the pain with my NSAID buddies and a couple of non-conventional self-healing modalities.
Gain
On Monday I rode from West Newton to Confluence (both in Pennsylvania) along the Great Allegheny Passage. I did not have a lot of energy, likely due to riding over 3,000 miles in 8 weeks and having (once again) high fructose corn syrup-based “syrup” on the pancakes the B&B served for breakfast. So I dialed back the effort and just rolled slowly on this gorgeous trail. There is no way words can capture the sublime essence of the trail. Even a photo is a shallow facsimile. The best way to describe it is to say it’s an organic cathedral. The experience of being in such a place is transcendent.
On Tuesday I rode (gingerly) from Confluence, Pennsylvania up over the eastern continental divide at Big Savage Mountain and then downhill for 23 miles to Cumberland, Maryland. The 19-mile stretch of trail from Confluence to the small town of Rockwood is remote and wild. The day was also sublime; the humidity was low, the temperature never got higher than 75, and the dappled sunlight through the trees made me feel as if I were riding through a Monet painting. I rested and ate at a favorite spot: a small forested area with picnic tables and a bench conveniently facing a stream that noisily falls over and slaps the rocks in its way before spilling into the Casselman River. Stunning and wondrous.
Yesterday (Wednesday), I left Cumberland, Maryland on the C&O canal towpath, which is actually a National Historical Park that runs 184 miles from Cumberland to Washington, D.C. along the Potomac River. The towpath bicyclists ride upon is where teams of mules once plodded along, towing barges and gondolas filled with coal and other goods. The towpath south of Cumberland is a bumpy ride as there are rocks, roots, and tiny jaw-jarring dips. The scenery is gorgeous but one has no time to enjoy it because if you take your eyes off the towpath for more than a few seconds you will likely hit a root, rock, or slam a wheel into a hole. After following a fellow cyclist for the first 10 miles at a rapid clip I became tired and suffered from the pain in my rib every time I hit a root or hole. But I met up with Gene, a 71-year old cyclist from Roanoke, Virginia who rode at a slow pace which suited me just fine. Gene and I rode for a few miles the day before; such is the camaraderie among cyclists on the trail that it was like meeting up with an old friend. That night I spent in a motel in Hancock, Maryland. In the canal’s heyday, Hancock was once considered to be an inland port.
It rained a fair amount overnight and I was concerned that the trail from Hancock to my planned destination at Harper’s Ferry would be sloppy, but it wasn’t too bad. The Potomac River widens and flows strongly and you can get a good feel for the river and life along its banks in one of the many campsites facing the river that the National Park service has placed every several miles. There’s something mesmerizing sitting on a picnic table bench, eating a sandwich and staring at the rapidly flowing river framed by trees and thickets of shrubs, with only the birds and the soft sound of water lapping on the river’s banks breaking the silence.
Tomorrow I will ride to Reston, Virginia, where my sister and brother live and take another well-deserved rest day before making a final push to the Atlantic Ocean.