Epilogue

It has been almost two weeks since the ride finished, and I am finally back in Bermuda as of yesterday afternoon.  Bermuda is never an easy place to get to, and this trip back from the States was the prime example.  The flight from Miami on Tuesday evening made it all the way here and couldn't land due winds and fog.  We made two attempts, and I never saw the island or water.  So it was off to Boston, where all hotel rooms were booked (apparently due to the numerous graduation ceremonies), and a night in the airport.

My last posting (from the last day of the ride) ended rather abruptly.  There was a lot to do right after the ride finished.  Get the bicycle packed, go to the banquet, say "good-byes" and so on.  In my case, my mother came to Savannah and we went to my new place in Amelia Island, Florida, the day after the ride finished.  I bought a car that very day and set about tackling some of the numerous details associated with a move (e.g., phone, internet, insurance, etc.).  I also managed to bike a little bit almost every morning - emphasis on the word "little".  My legs were still killing me those first few days, but gradually the pain went away and most (but not quite all) of the feeling returned to my hands and feet.  It is so strange to not be biking with a purpose - either training or getting to the next destination.  And it is very strange to be biking alone.  On the trip, there were many occasions where I was biking by myself - but I never felt alone.  I knew that there were always other riders on the road with me and a couple of vans that were probably just out of sight (and a phone call away).  And, as a friend reminded me, I also had the four of you that are reading this blog.

There are a few thoughts that I wanted to put down now that the ride has finished.  Some are comments that I thought about during the ride, while others are a reflection on the trip.

Training

As I said at the top of my blog, I had hoped that I would have trained enough to enjoy the trip, as opposed to just survive the trip.  If you've read my posts, you'll know that there was a lot of "surviving" on many of the days.  I did train a lot, but it is very difficult to completely prepare for a journey like this.  Jay and I had this discussion somewhere in Arkansas and came to the conclusion that a person would be in good physical and mental condition to tackle this ride five days after they completed this ride.

Prior to the ride, ABB sends out a pamphlet with several articles on endurance cycling training, which include "Tips and Training for a Successful Century" and "The 9-Day Countdown o Your Best 100-Mile Ride".  The articles are good, but... they focus on riding a single century - not multiple 100+ mile days back to back.   The exception is the single-page preface written by someone at ABB specifically for the Fast America Ride.  It says things like "get a 175-200 mile day in before we depart" and "go out on three consecutive days and ride 130 miles each day".  I rode a lot in training, but not that much.  A 200 mile day?  There aren't enough hours of daylight for me to ride 200 miles in a single day in Bermuda.

But if you want to be in shape to truly enjoy the ride, that's the type of training you need to do.  Before his first cross-country ride, Jay rode a 200 mile event in the Mojave desert that had over 8,000 feet of climbing.  He finished well after the sun went down and the batteries in his headlight had died.  He made it by sticking to the wheel of a guy with working headlights.  And knowing Jay, he had a smile on his face the whole way.  Jay enjoys every minute of a cross-country ride.

There was one area where my training paid off big and that is with saddle sores.  While I probably didn't push myself to ride fast enough in training, I definitely put in the time on the bike.  Consequently, my butt was well broken in.  At least half the riders on the trip were suffering from some degree of saddle sores.  When they get serious, saddle sores simply mean you don't get on the bike.

The Group

At the banquet, the ABB staff remarked that this was the most prepared and team-oriented group of riders they have ever had.  I rode with a great group last year and this year's was incredible as well.  I can't imagine a better group of cyclists to ride across the country.  They were in great physical condition.  They had an incredible upbeat outlook each day.  And while they were super-competitive, they worked like a team from the first day.   Each and every single one of them helped me out so much.

As I look back at the ride, there are so many various images of the days that come flooding back.  But the one consistent and memorable image is that of the riders and how they truly made this adventure special.  I'm going to miss each and every one of them.

The Staff

Safety is the number one concern of the ABB staff and it shows.  They are constantly looking out for everyone on the road and giving us advice on how to stay out of trouble.  A cross-country bicycle trip is inherently dangerous, but we made it without mishap (not counting the three trips to the hospital) thanks to them.  They feel like family to me, and I wouldn't consider using another bike travel company.

The Results

We rode nearly 3,000 miles with an average daily mileage of close to 120 miles.   My longest day in the saddle was over 10 hours.  10 hours!  I have a hard time imagining that.  What did I think about for 10 hours on the bike?  I don't remember specifically... but I know it was a lot.   My shortest day was Dalhart and it was 3 hours and 40 minutes.  That was also my most incredible day thanks to some awesome tailwinds.  I can definitely remember what I was thinking on that day.  I was pretending that I was that unknown French domestique riding in the TdF during the second week, and I had managed a breakaway as we neared my hometown.   Ride as fast as possible and don't look back.

From the time I started my most serious training in mid-March until now, I have lost about 15 pounds and my body fat percentage has dropped by about 7 points.  I believe that translates to a loss of 18 pounds of fat and a gain of 3 pounds of muscle.  Given that both during training and on the trip that I ate just about anything I could get my hands on, that's not too bad.  I remember falling asleep before 9pm in Prattville AL, waking up an hour later and groggily walking next door to the McDonald's for an ice cream sundae just because it was there.

As was the case last year, I learned a lot more about bike mechanics and maintenance.  I've gotten better at changing a flat tire.  I continue to be more comfortable on the bike, and somewhere along the way I managed a couple of track stands.  That is where you a) come to a complete stop, b) with your feet clipped into the pedals and c) keep the bike upright.   I've always managed to do two out of the three... but never before have I done all three at the same time.

Perhaps the biggest change is with regards to my speed.  I'm riding faster than I ever had in my life.  I did a 40 mile ride in Florida where I stayed between 20mph and 22mph for miles and miles.  And no one was pacing me.  Not sure how long that is going to last, but it is a good feeling for now.  And it gives me something to target or improve upon.

America

The great thing about living abroad is that when you come back to the States, you can see it with a fresh set of eyes.  America is big, diverse, beautiful and clean.  The people are great; especially the ones in convenience stores.  Maybe my view is slanted because our route took us through predominately rural areas.   Whatever the reason... to me, the country looks great.  I just wish there was a bike lane all the way across.

What's Next?

As I feared, I am already feeling all nostalgic about the ride.  I don't believe I pulled any punches in my blog; I think I did a decent job of describing how hard the trip was.  I had a few friends reading the blog who had previously ridden across the States, and I hoped to remind them (and me) how difficult a challenge it really is.  Because you tend to forget the pain and remember all that great stuff.   But I remember that first night on the road in Palm Springs.  It was just the first day and I was already in pain and exhausted.  At 1am, I was still awake and almost got up to send myself an e-mail that simply said "Don't do this again."

After about the second week, a common question among our group was: "Would you do this again?"  The answer was inevitably "No" (not counting Jay).  Not because anyone had any regrets, but because this is just a very difficult challenge.  It takes a lot of time training and a month of riding.  And the trip isn't cheap.  However, several riders expressed a real interest in ABB's Ride the West.  That is a trip down the west coast and takes about 23 days.  The mileage isn't quite as demanding, but there are a lot of climbs along with some spectacular scenery.   In fact, a couple of riders said they'd like to take their wife or girlfriend (but not both) on that ride.   Karen spent two years developing the route, and I think it would be a very good ride.  Especially if some of the riders from the past two rides came along.

Summary

My friend Jason, from Ireland, has an expression that he got from his father - "Let's go make a memory".  It means exactly what it sounds like.  Let's go do something that we'll remember for the rest of our lives.  It has become one of my favorite expressions.  So often, we just stumble through life with each day indistinguishable from the next.  We need to occasionally do something unique to highlight our existence.  I thought about that expression a lot all during the journey.  In fact, it was exactly what I was thinking about on Day 4 when I was climbing up that mountain in the snow and rode smack into the back of that parked semi tractor-trailer.  "Let's go make a memory.  Let's go make a memory.  Let's [THUD].... Ouch.  Memory made".

I made dozens of great memories on this trip.   Even weeks after it has ended, I can't believe what we did.  And I'm looking forward to reliving them via the pictures I took, the ones the staff took and this blog.   English Mike (from last year's ride) said that the most random memories of the trip come to him out of the blue.  It was a month of sensory overload... so I can imagine how that happens.  And I can't wait to remember all that stuff that we saw and did.

I may have dodged the question of "What's next?", but how can you top bicycling across the US?  Perhaps... doing it twice?

Day 27 Savannah GA (108 miles)

I couldn't let myself think of this day three weeks ago.  Savannah was just a dream at that point.  When I was in Fort Smith AR on the rest day, I didn't think of the end... just the next few days getting through Arkansas.  Even this morning, I was still wondering if something tragic would snatch me and send me back a few weeks.

I was running a little late this morning.  I was up late last night with the blog (two days worth) and didn't get my usual chores finished.  So they were waiting for me in the morning.  I arrived at breakfast at the hotel at 6:05am and the gang is all there.  They're almost giddy with excitement.

We leave in a few groups.  One group gets an early start; not a huge jump, but they want to get a headstart on some of the hammerheads.  The next group is the hammerheads.  I actually hang around for a few more minutes and wait for Jay.  We are the last to leave.  Vidalia is shrouded in fog.  Jay sets a really good pace - about 21mph.  It takes some time, but he reels in the hammerheads.  We're within striking distance when we catch a red light.  The chase continues, and we sneak into the pack. 

In NASCAR, two cars working in tandem (one behind the other) can go faster than any single car.  It is like that in cycling.  Except we have only two wheels.  And they're really skinny tires.  And we have only a 1/8th horsepower motor.  And that motor gets tired.  So the NASCAR analogy may have been a stretch, but we're in the South.  I like to think that by riding right on his wheel, I am helping Jay go faster.  The vacuum that would normally be formed behind him, and pull him back, is formed behind me instead. In reality... Jay is doing all the work.  But I like to pretend I'm helping.

Once we catch the pack, I work my way up just a bit to speak to Randy.  Randy is a terrible paceline rider.  He can't stand to be still.  He works his way to the front and back again by riding in the middle of the road.  He is pretty careful, but he'll be the first one hit if a car comes too close.  Riding outside the paceline like that isn't very efficient, but Randy is always burning excess energy - 'cause that's just the kinda guy he is.

We are cooking pretty good.  The first SAG is at about mile 30, in the town of Claxton - the fruitcake capitol of the world.  About 5 miles out, Russ starts to set a serious pace.  As we near town, he cranks it up to an insane speed.  We have a slight headwind, and Russ is out front punching a hole in the air at 25mph.  We're all hanging on for the ride.  For me, it isn't easy.  And I'm doing a fraction of the work that Russ is doing.  Finally, Russ peels off and, as he is dropping back, I tell him "thanks" for all the effort.  I glance over at him.  Sweat is pouring down in streams.  And for the first time in almost a month, I see a look of exhaustion and pain on his face.  It doesn't get easier,.... you just go faster.

We are a little more than a mile out, and Paul takes over the pace.  We're now entering Claxton and there is construction on the road.  However, Paul is also setting an incredible pace.  We can see the early group in the distance, and we're closing on them fast. The road is torn up in places, but Paul is still going full out.  With nine other riders right behind him.  Just as we nearly reach the early group, we get caught by a red light.  We can see the SAG about 500 yards up the road.  When the light turns green, I turn to Paul and say "race you".  We take off and it is a mad race to the SAG.  Flying through the streets of Claxton.  We're all wearing our ABB jerseys and must look like something from another planet.  Or at least, another country.  As we pull into the SAG, Brian asks, "What was that all about?"  And then he answers himself. "Because it is a lot of fun."

This is supposed to be a day where we take it easy and enjoy the sights.  It is a day for reflecting.  But this group is wound too tight for that.  At the SAG, we learn that we are going at a pace that will put us at the beach two hours ahead of schedule.  Friends and family will be meeting us for the wheel dipping ceremony, and they've been told it will be at 2pm - not noon.  We take longer than usual at that "first last SAG".  A few of the riders decide to take it down a notch and proceed at a more reasonable pace.  They leave the SAG with a vow to take it easy.  I hang back with the remaining riders, still buzzing from that wild ride into Claxton.

The ride into the lunch SAG (at mile 68) was at a near race pace.  The headwind was picking up, but we're still averaging over 20mph.  I took my turn pulling, and each pull nearly kills me.   To me, this is the perfect way to end this ride.  Going full out.  At a pace that I never thought I could keep, and probably will never achieve again.

We reach the lunch SAG and pull out all the chairs.  We definitely spend a long time at the SAG.  Afterwards, we again divide into two groups.  The rational group gets a slight headstart, with the remaining riders not too far behind.  We turn off the highway that we'd be traveling onto a road with less traffic.  Both groups meet up and we ride as one big team - almost in peleton fashion.  I'm riding on the outside with Randy when he says "let's break away".  I'm not particularly comfortable riding in this big group - there's still some traffic on the road and we need to get back to something more akin to a single file.  So I am happy to jump to the lead.  Nico takes it as a challenge and jumps.  Followed by Randy.  And Per.  And Wolfgang.  And so on.  We're back to break-neck speeds.  Nearly a month ago I was watching these guys fly by me - wishing that I could just go that fast.  Now I'm actually going that fast.  Who would have thouhgt it?  Not me.

Finally the speed gets just too grueling, and I find myself dropping back.  Once that gap opens, I know I'm doomed.  I resign myself to the fact that I will be biking into Savannah solo.  Or waiting for the other group.  Just then, Per passes me.  He had been dropped as well.  I hop on his wheel, and he is off.  He is on a mission to close the gap.  I'm two inches off his rear tire.  He later tells me that he didn't even know I was there.  Fifteen minutes later, we're back with the group.  We see that Reem has been dropped, and the pace "slows" to let her catch up. 

We're entereing the outskirts of Savannah.  We're coming through old neighborhoods with gorgeous brick homes.  Live oaks don't just line the streets - in some instances they are in the middle of the street.  I'm feeling great.... because I don't realize that Tybee Island (our final destination) is about 30 miles away.  Savannah (the city) is not right on the ocean... it is a good ways up the Savannah River.  I should know this stuff.  We have a gap on the riders behind us, and we stop for one last guilt-free McDonald's shake.

The causeway to Tybee is a final reminder of how difficult this crossing has been.  The road is narrow and traffic is very heavy.  There is a 20mph headwind coming at us.  The lead riders take it to a threshold pace.  Once again, the wind is coming from a slight angle - so there is no relief unless we were to ride in an echelon.  And that puts me out into the middle of the road.  No way.  I grind it out on what passes for a shoulder until I just can't hold on any longer.  I drop off and was disappointed.  A few minutes later, Wolfgang and David come up behind me and my spirits soar.  I hadn't realized that they had dropped off earlier.  The three of us ride into the staging area where we gather before the final assault on the beach. 

Soon all the riders are the staging point.  We have cold drinks and group photos are taken.  Then we line up and proceed to the end of Tybee Island two miles away.  As we turn down the road leading to the pier, people start to cheer.  Not the riders.  People on the side of the road.  The beach is practically packed.  Most are just there for the day... but they've been told that we are coming.  There is a news camera crew.  The walk across the sand is over a hundred yards.  We carry our bikes and everyone on the beach is yelling.  I wasn't expecting this.  We all dip our wheels, and half the riders jump into the ocean.  Wolfgang peels off his biking shorts.  Thank God he was wearing that Speedo.

I can't believe it is over.  I know I have to bike back the two miles to the staging area and the vans.  We have the option to bike back to the hotel in downtown Savannah.  It is about 30 miles away and it is not really an option that anyone takes seriously.  The staff say that no one has ever ridden back to the hotel.  We've ridden coast to coast... and that is enough.

FINAL NOTE - in a week or two, I will be back in Bermuda.  I will put my comments on the banquet in a posting at that point.  Along with my final thoughts on the ride.  I want a few days to digest it all.  I don't believe that is actually over.  I can't believe I did it.  I wouldn't believe it,... if I hadn't been there.  Thanks again for all the emails and words of encouragement.  Those kept me going when I wanted to stop.

Day 26 Vidalia GA (102 miles)

The perfect biking conditions in Georgia continue.  I know it is hot and the humidity is at 91% at 6am, but the roads are great, the traffic is minimal and the scenery gorgeous.  We set off mainly as one big group.  I actually take my turn at pulling shortly after we left the hotel, and end up dropping everyone.  It is a rookie mistake that I've made before.  I set a pace that is too high for this point in the day.  This group likes to warm up for the first five miles or so.  It has all the appearances of a solo breakaway, but we all know better.

Jay brings the rest of the group up to me and yells "How's it going Captian Protein?"  (that's a reference to last night's dinner).  I snuggle into the paceline.  I won't bore you with all the blow-by-blow details, but just let me say this.... that next 37 miles was probably the most enjoyable biking I've ever done.  I was biking through my favorite territory, with a great group of people and we were going extremely fast.  This is on relatively flat terrain and no wind (to speak of).

We arrive at the first SAG, and there are moon pies and RC Cola waiting for us.  I can't tell if the building next to us is a church or a house that used to be a church.  It has stained-glass windows and a steeple, but it looks more like a home. 

The lunch SAG is at mile 72.  Most of us are still in one big group, setting a grueling pace and taking turns at the front.  I've learned about my limitations on pulling at this point in the day and keep my pulls relatively short.  Reem barks orders at me when it looks like I'm about to fall off the back.  It keeps me in the pack (and scares me).  Two miles from the lunch SAG, I do fall off the back and Rick stays with me.  We arrive at the lunch just as the other riders are getting off of their bikes.

The lunch SAG is possibly the best SAG location ever.  We are under tall hardwoods on a deserted road.  I don't remember one car going past.  We have all the chairs out, and several of us suggest calling it a day.  We had biked extremely hard to get there and want to stay.  When we do leave, we don't do it as a group.  There was some confusion, and Reem was left behind.  I was pretty far behind as well, and I chase down the group to let them know that they forgot Reem.  Russ says he will wait for her.  I stop as well... but then remember that I was dropped right before lunch and I'm probably not in the best shape to stay with two professional cyclists when they get going.  So I mosy up the road a bit.

I'm biking by myself and doing OK.  Not killer fast by any means.  But I know that an express train will be coming by shortly, and I hope to catch a ride.  Sure enough... about 17 miles from the motel, I hear the train.  I hop on with Russ and Reem.  It is all I can do to stay attached.  We catch up with Wolfgang and Rick, and we have a five-person paceline coming into Vidalia.  As always seems to be the case, the motel is on the far side of town.  Vidalia is bigger than I expected.  As the motel comes in sight, I challenge Russ to a motel sprint.  He kills me to the motel entrance, but Reem screams past us to be the first at the door - nearly crashing into the lobby.  It is a ton of fun (How old am I?  Like 12?).

Once again, we're at the motel before 3pm.  A few of us hit the convenience store and KFC for a pre-dinner snack.  Dinner is at 5:30pm when 11 of us descend upon Ruby Tuesday's.  We spend about two hours there... no one in a hurry to leave.  Just re-living the days out west... which seem to be about four months ago.

We're almost at the end of our journey.  Mike had told us that we'd start to notice changes in our bodies by the third week.  And we have.  They're falling apart.  Actually, I feel a lot different; but I'm not sure it shows.  It is so hard to tell.  I imagine that I will lose weight after the ride ends (like last time).  I will be extremely disappointed if I've biked 120 miles per day for a month and don't lose any weight.

I can tell the difference in a few other riders.  The other day, Randy said to Reem, "Don't take this the wrong way, but... your butt is a lot tighter than when we started."  Seriously... how could she have possibly taken that the wrong way?  Randy also told me that my face looked a lot thinner.  However, he neglected to say anything about my butt.  Randy is always giving compliments - 'cause that's just the kinda guy he is.

Tomorrow is our final ride, and each one of us is so excited.  We've enjoyed the company, but we are exhausted.  Greg LeMond (3 time TdF winner) once said about cycling "It never gets easier, ... you just get faster."  And that sums up this group.  They keep pushing themselves and each other.  We rode today at a 5 hour century pace.  AFTER BIKING 2900 MILES IN 26 DAYS!  My shorts were covered in salt (I'm sure my jersey was as well, .... it just shows up better on black shorts).  I was soaked.  I had always thought that by this point in the ride that it would be easier.  But it wasn't easier.... we just went faster.

I often wonder what it would have been like to bike across the country with the group where several of the riders rented a car to jump ahead several days.  Or the group where they hopped a train to get ahead.  Would I have been the best rider in those groups?  At the end of the day, would they have all been talking about me?

"He did it again.  He rode the whole way."

"He wasn't in the van at all?  Are you sure?"

"Three of us were in the silver van and four were in the gold van... he wasn't there."

"How does he do it?"

"He's a machine, man.  A freakin' machine."

"I say we rent another car."

Hey... I can dream, can't I?  But I don't think it would have been near as much fun.  The riders on this trip have really forced me to up my game.  Every single one of them has offered support and words of encouragement.  I'm going to miss all of them.

Day 25 Perry GA (100 miles)

The day started in Columbus GA, and this town is looking pretty good.  It's got something going on.  It is a little bit like Greenville SC, which is a great little town and biking community. 

The day started pretty much as normal, but I was running a little behind.  Jay was going to ride sweep, so I waited for him.  As did Russ and David.  I found out today that Russ raced professionally in Europe.  I've said it about a dozen times before... we have a very serious group of cyclists on this trip.  The trip through downtown was great... not a lot of rush hour traffic.  Before you know it, we're on this multi-use (mainly biking) trail that runs parallel to the Chattahoochee River.  It is incredible.  It is Disney clean.  I kept expecting a fresh-faced kid in a uniform to come out and ask me for my Fast Pass.  Russ set a pretty fast pace, and we caught up with the rest of the riders right when the trail ended (about mile 12).

When the trail ends, it drops you off at Fort Benning and another trail through the base begins.  I can't remember the last time I've been on a military base.  It was super clean and really nice.  Beautiful tree-lined streets.  Big homes.  Golf courses.  Tanks.  Sniper training.  Just your typical suburban neighborhood.

Getting off the base was actually a bit more difficult than getting on the base due to construction, but we managed.  And the great part was that we did it all as one big group. I love it when all 15 riders can ride together, or in close proximity.  But we began to break up once we were off the base.  We were riding on a four-lane divided highway with a minimal shoulder.  That meant single file riding.  At a fast pace.  It was a little dicey - but only lasted about 4 miles.

We turned onto a more rural, but still busy, two-laned road.  I'm from Georgia and have a definite bias.  I thought the state was putting on its best face.  Road surfaces were great.  Country side was gorgeous.  Hardly any dogs.  And minimal roadkill.  We didn't have a proper shoulder, but we had about 18 inches right of the white line.  Widen that by another foot or two, and you'd have a real bike lane.  The state is looking good.

The rollers from Alabama continued and were taking their toll on my body.  I managed to stay with the faster riders, but just barely.  The first SAG was at mile 42, and I was in pain.  My right knee felt like it had swollen to the size of a volleyball.  And I had a new pain.  I found Rick at the SAG (Rick is a MD) and asked him what a hernia felt like.  After "Turn your head and cough" and "Was that really necessary here in the parking lot", we decided that it was most likely just a pulled groin muscle.  So I got that going for me.  I'm falling apart all over.

The long ride to the second SAG is where I got dropped.  We were on this long straight road, and you could see the hills rise and fall well into the distance.  We had a slight headwind that was coming straight down the road into our faces.  I knew it was a headwind, because every time I spat off the front of my bike, it came back and hit me in the face.  Between the hills, headwind and the pain, I was slowing down.

As I entered the town of Ellaville, I decided I needed something for the pain.  And I was very thristy.  And I could use a candy bar.  I took a turn down Main Street and found a convenience store.  I got Tylenol, a Mountain Dew and a Zero bar. Ok... if you ever want a little pick-me-up, go into a rural convenience store in the South dressed in Lycra and wait for the first person to ask you if you're in a race.  You simply tell them that you're biking across the country in 27 days, and wait for the outpouring of support.  It is incredible.  "NO WAY!" "YOU'RE KIDDING!" "GEE WHIZ!" I now know what Charles Lindbergh must have felt like when he landed in France. 

I'm not sure if it was the candy bar, Mountain Dew, Tylenol or accolades... but my knee pain, groin pull and half a dozen other injuries all disappeared within 3 miles of leaving that convenience store.  Why hadn't I figured this out on day one?   I spent a little bit too long in that store and most of the riders had passed me.  As I keep saying.... this isn't a race.  However, the other riders do not seem to know this.  Despite the fact that I have fallen behind, I'm feeling a whole lot better and biking faster. 

I come to this particularly confusing spot on the road and route sheet.  The intersection has been completely redesigned and doesn't match the directions.  I'm about to take a left when I see Randy biking towards me from that direction.  I follow his lead and go straight.  Within minutes, I am doubting myself.  Randy is one of the riders with that fancy GPS system, and he is continuously getting lost.  Why am I following him? I slow down a bit; Randy continues at full force.  We're entering the town of Montezuma, and this definitely isn't on the route sheet.  Then, the one thing any (potentially) lost cyclist wants to see happens.   I spot three other cyclists that are standing in a parking lot looking confused.  Best yet... one of them is on his cell phone.  We sort it out and collectively find the lunch SAG.

I leave the lunch SAG on my own and heads towards Perry, a town on the interstate.  It is only 22 miles away. The sky is perfectly clear.  The road is smooth.  Hardly any traffic.  And the hills have practically melted away.  Sure, it is hot as all blazes and the humidity coats me like a blanket, but this is the part of the country where I first really started biking.  And this is how I have always imagined biking to be.  The route sheet takes us off the highway and onto some back country roads for no reason other than to show us the "real" country.  A farmer in a pickup slows down, beeps his horn and waves "hello".  It is so good to be home.

I'm about 15 miles from the motel.  This is the point in the day where I'm always thinking about a shower.  But for the first time all trip at this point in the day, I'm really enjoying the ride.  I mean... I'm seriously having a big time.  I'm in no hurry for it to end.  I don't know if it is because we're getting close to Savannah... or because I'm back in familiar territory... or because there is no pain... or what; but, I feel great.  Don't get me wrong - there have been a boatload of times that I'm enjoying the ride.  They just aren't the first thing on my mind at 15 miles from the motel.

I reach the motel, and half a dozen bikers are in the lobby.  The motel staff has bottled water, Gatorade and granola bars waiting for us. We have all gotten in before 3pm and are content to sit around discussing the ride.  There are no easy days on this ride; but some are less hard than others.

Jay, Jim, Randy and myself hit a Longhorns for dinner.  The last time I ate at Longhorns was in Tuscaloosa with the family and I rode great the next day.  I ordered the same thing I had that night.  We went back to the motel where we had a tee-shirt swap with the rest of the riders - lot of laughs.  Afterwards, Karen, Jay and I walk up to the Dairy Queen.  The benefits of burning an extra 4,000-5,000 calories per day.

Just two more days of riding.  As I feared... I'm already getting all nostlagic.

2009 Ride

As I mentioned in the opening section of this blog, I rode the first leg of this journey in 2009.  That portion ran from Costa Mesa, CA to Albuquerque, NM.  It was seven days and 840 miles.  This year I will be starting again in Costa Mesa and retracing those seven days before continuing onto Georgia.  As I am training here in Bermuda, it is the memories of those grueling seven days that keeps me motivated and out on the road when I'd rather be at home (or pretty much anywhere else, for that matter).  We average 120 miles per day on those first seven days and climb a total of nearly six vertical miles.  There are a few descents in there as well, but I seem to mainly remember the endless hours spent grinding up those southwestern mountains.

I must admit that last year I did not complete all of the 840 miles.  I had problems on the second and fourth days.  On day two, I was suffering from dehydration and stomach cramps; I only rode about 40 miles that morning and the last 18 miles in the afternoon (which seemed like another 40).  My legs gave out on me about halfway through on day four, which has around 8700 feet of climbing.  Beginning on day five, I felt better and was riding stronger.  The last two days were about 135 miles each (back-to-back double metric centuries) and I was feeling like a pro by then.

The leader of the ride, Mike Munk, does an outstanding job of taking hundreds of pictures each day.  He then edits them down onto a CD and sends it to you after the ride.  Below are a few of his pics along with a description of the action (or lack thereof) in the picture.

Day 1

This is me being pulled up the hill by Linda, a very good cyclist from Tuscon.  I'd love to show you a pic of me setting the pace and Linda drafting behind me; unfortunately, I could find no such pic (mainly because that never happened).

Day 2

In retrospect, I can see the problem with day two.  We have to GET OVER THOSE FREAKIN' MOUNTAINS!

Day 3


We rode from Blythe CA to Wickenburg AZ and the scenery was pretty much like this the whole way (in other words, we went from nowhere to nowhere-else without a whole lot in between).

Day 4

Again ... what is the deal with all these mountains?





















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Day 5

Best day of biking ever!  I love this pic.  Note that the mountains are behind us (we climbed them earlier in the day).  Also, check out how much room that truck is giving me.  In Bermuda, I'd be the guy in between the semi and the Budget rental truck

Day 6

In case you hadn't noticed, we did a whole lot of riding along the interstate.  Out west, when it is the only road connecting two towns, cyclists are allowed to ride on the shoulder of the interstate.  Personally, I liked riding along the interstates.  The road surface conditions are usually pretty good and the climbs are somewhat gentle.  My top speed along the interstate was about 45 mph (downhill with a tailwind).

Day 7

This is "Ten-Mile Hill" just outside of Albuquerque.  I'm one of the riders way back in the distance.  I'm not sure the picture does a good job of conveying the steepness of the climb, and I was more than a little freaked out at this point.  I mean... I had just ridden 116 miles and now had to contend with ten miles of this?!  However, the hill is considerably shorter than 10 miles.  I subsequently learned that it is called "Ten-Mile Hill" because you can see it from at least ten miles away.  Seriously.

Along those lines... you should see the forty-foot TV in my living room.