Day 23 Prattville, AL (119 miles)

I've been thinking about this particular day for over a year.  On last year's ride, Mike said that our tough climbing days out West were about as tough as the ride coming into Prattville.  Mike and Barbara make Prattville (a bedroom community of Montgomery) their home when they are not leading bike tours across the country. Mike had told us how this part of Alabama had no mountains, but hill after steep hill that would make you long for the mountains out West.

This morning at breakfast, we were all talking about the upcoming day and all the climbs.  We were discussing tactics and just how difficult climbing in Alabama was proving to be.  About that time, Reem chimed in and said, "Mike... I was on your wheel coming out of Aberdeen.  You were climbing really good. You're a good climber."  I thought back to that day and how I had stuck to David that particular morning.  And I remembered that I had in fact hung in there pretty good.  Maybe I was better at climbing than I gave myself credit for.

Whether you think you can or you think you can't, ... you're right. 
                                                                                Stewie Griffin

Last night I awoke again with my thighs clenched - like when you clench your jaw so hard that it aches. It wasn't a cramp, but something I was doing involuntarily. It felt like someone was hitting my thighs with baseball bats. It had happened for several nights. Someone asked me recently why I liked biking so far and hard. I said that I liked it because it felt so good when I stopped. But with this trip, the pain lingers. I believe that it is just my muscles rebuilding themselves; it happens with biking so many miles.  It hurts, but to me it means progress.

Tuscaloosa is much bigger than I appreciated.  After all, they managed to sneak in a university of 30,000 students without me even noticing.  Getting us out of town this morning without getting into rush hour traffic meant that we were routed through some neighborhoods and back roads.  But we'd still be in traffic for some bits - it just can't be helped.  Mike told us not to leave as one big group, and it wouldn't be as bad.  So for the first time this trip, we left spread out - wait a minute - no.... we left as one big group.  These people like to move as one big group first thing in the morning.  Today was "jersey" day; we were all wearing our ABB jerseys.  We've been biking like a team - now we looked like one, too.

Cars, trucks and everything else were pretty close by.  I nearly had a bus take off my left ear.  That never happened in Bermuda.  In Bermuda, they usually almost take off my right ear.  But pretty soon after leaving the motel, we were in some really nice neighborhoods. The hills were straight up, and straight down.  Imagine running full speed up a flight of stairs for a forty-story building, and then taking a slide back down.  Now imagine doing that over and over and over again.

There were lots of turns, and we were still hanging together as one group.  It was a complicated route, and no one wanted to get lost this early in the day.  Or.... if we were going to get lost... we wanted to do it with everyone else.  I kept my eye on two people: Nico and Reem.  Nico has an upscale Garmin GPS cycle computer that he programs every evening with the next day's route - turn by turn.  He then shares that info with three other riders that have similar computers.  Reem has a good sense of direction.  Sometimes, the GPS can give funky results; it is nice to have a good sense of direction (and someone who can read a route sheet) when that happens.  And, that is exactly what happened about mile 12.  I hopped onto Reem's wheel when the group hesitated at the GPS output.

We were hitting hill after steep hill - just as predicted.  Nico caught back up.  This was killer hard.  About mile 18, we had been been doing this for over an hour.  Imagine the most difficult spinning class you've ever had (if you've had one).  Now imagine that it just won't end.  I was up and out of the saddle on every climb.  My face was covered in sunscreen and sweat.  My nose was running.  I was breathing with my mouth wide open, and saliva coming out the sides.  Those guys with bats were back and pounding my thighs.  I finally looked back and... we had dropped everyone else.  It was Reem, Nico and me.  I'm sure the other riders weren't too far behind, but at that time it was just the three of us.  A professional cyclist, a true Ironman and me.  I was biking way out of my league.  I was cycling with skills that I don't own.

Eventually, we were caught.  First it was Jay.  "Hey kids!  How's it going?!"  Then Russ made it to the front when we slowed down to verify the route.  Jay and Russ took off.  Nico pulled to the side of the road.  Per caught Reem and myself.  The three of us set a grueling pace to the first SAG at mile 42.  The hills continued.  I tried to sprint up the hills (a running tactic favored by Jane to get over them quicker), but they were just too big.  Reem was right there all along.  She's got a cadence like a hummingbird's wings - super fast.  She jumps out of the saddle too on the climbs and then settles into fast pedal stroke in a lower gear.  Just when I think I'm going to lose her, she seems to slow a bit.  She's not going to let me get dropped.  When a gap does open up, and I work myself back, she shouts "You're doing great!  You're a man on a mission!"

The three of us make to the first SAG together.  Jay and Russ have just arrived.  There is a sizeable gap between us and the next set of riders.  Everyone that comes in after us says the same thing.  "You're doing great, man!"  They are all like that - never afraid to give out compliments.  And I really appreciate it.

A few riders take the short SAG approach and beat us back out on the road.  Reem and I take off together.  Same approach - attack the hills.  If I was out West, I would have settled into a slow, steady climb pace.  But here, it is just a slugfest.  The road surfaces change from mediocre to terrible to great and then back to terrible.  Unlike Mississippi, however, there is a rhyme and reason to the changes.  If it is a secondary country road, the surface is going to be crap the whole way.  The surfaces also change with each new county we enter.  But the ones that are bad... they are really bad.  It is like 'Bama's version of Paris-Roubaix (a spring classic race in northern France that includes long sections over Roman cobblestone roads).  It is so rough, it hurts.  It is tough just holding onto the bars.  After three weeks of centuries, every rider's butt is particularly sensitive.  Unfortunately, we are riding on the bad roads more than we're riding on decent roads.  The best approach is to go fast as possible.  If it doesn't help you "glide" over the bumps, at least they don't last as long.

Reem and I are chasing down David.  There is no particular arerodynamic advantage to sticking together on these climbs - but there is a huge psychological advantage.  She's refusing to let me slow down.  She's pushing me harder than I ever could have pushed myself.  We finally make one desperate push and catch David.  We stick with him on the flats and smaller hills.  But David is stronger on the long climbs.  Right before the lunch SAG at mile 84, we make a turn and find ourselves on a golden section of road that is smooth as silk.  For 84 miles, we have beaten ourselves half to death. Our reward is a quarter-mile of smooth road and a sandwich.

At lunch, I remove my arm warmers.  Temp at depature was 50.  It has been cool and overcast all morning long.  But, I ride better in short sleeves.  Reem and I take off together again after lunch.  I take the lead.  And after a few miles, I look back... and she's not there.  I had set a fairly fast pace, but I didn't mean to drop her.  Up to this point, she had done the vast majority of the pace-setting and all of the navigation.  I have no doubt that she'll catch up, and I continue on to Prattville.  The roads from lunch onwards are all pretty good.  None of that cobblestone stuff.

Prattville is a nice southern town that seems to be surviving nicely.  Maybe because it is so close to Montgomery it has escaped the plight that has hit so many of these other smaller towns.  Unfortunately, the motel is out by the interstate... and about 10 miles from the "downtown" area.  We are actually back on country roads again.  Climbing continues.  We finally hit some really nice suburbs and Reem catches up. While I am basking in the good feeling of a hard day's ride, she's smelling the finish line.  You can tell she's the pro... she cranks it up a notch at the end. 

Reem sees the motel sign, cuts through a Pro Bass store parking lot, and we end up carrying our bikes over a berm to reach the back of the motel.  We have reached the hotel before 3pm and well before the luggage van has arrived.  We're not the first, but close.  And we spent longer at each SAG than other riders.  I am very pleased.  "Congratulations" come from all the other riders.  Once again, I have ridden harder than I ever imagined I could.  And at that pace for almost 7 hours.  I couldn't have done that without all the help and support from the staff and fellow riders.  And most of all, I couldn't have done that without Reem.  She believed I could do things that I couldn't even imagine.  And that's what I'll remember most about this day.

We biked so hard, I only took one picture all day long. It is a pic of my lucky REI crochet gloves.  They are way old-school and on their last legs.  In fact, I will probably retire them after today's ride.

For dinner, Jay, Randy and myself hit a BBQ place across the street.  We discuss the ride and biking tactics.  I found out that Jay won the Arkansas State Road Championship last year for his age group.  I'd also like to mention that Randy played football at the University of New Mexico until one too many concussions forced him to hang up his cleats.  For the record, "one too many concussions" for me would be exactly one.  I get the feeling that Randy hit double digits - 'cause that's just the kind of guy he is.

There are only four days of biking left.  Tomorrow, we enter Georgia - our final state.

Day 22 Tuscaloosa AL (115 miles)

Today was Mothers' Day, in case anyone forgot.  We started out on the far side of Aberdeen MS at a Best Western that sits all alone except for a closed Ford dealership across the road.  It was a very tidy Best Western, but I wonder how it stays open.  There's not a lot going on in Aberdeen, and we had the motel practically to ourselves.  Often we stay at motels that are right off the interstate, because... that's where motels tend to be.  And there is a choice of restaurants in those cases.  But there are times I really like staying in a place like Aberdeen.  Off the beaten path.

For reference purposes, below is a little map of where we've been so far:

It was quite chilly this morning - the temp at departure was 46 degrees. The arm warmers were back out.  We left as one big group, and I was in the paceline trying to get relief from the wind.  It was freezing.  Early Sunday morning (especially Mother's Day morning) is a great time to bike in Mississippi.  Over the past few days, I have developed a neat biking strategy.  I try to hang with the fast guys as long as I can.  When I inevitably get dropped, Rick swings by to pick me up, and we bike in the rest of the way together.

Today was hills and more hills.  It is not like those mountains out West where you grind out for hours.  These look like you should be able to sprint up them... but it is an illusion.  We've hit a few that are steeper than anything we've encountered to date.

Once again, the scenery was gorgeous.  We are riding a lot of back roads.  No center line in many cases.  Minimal traffic.  About 20 miles into today's ride, we crossed into Alabama.  There was no official sign, per se.  But the road surface suddenly improved.  And Mike (who lives in Alabama) had spray-painted a "Welcome To Alabama" message in the middle of the road.  Mike also warned us that all of the roads in Alabama would not be like the one we were on.  We saw that later in the day.  Like Mississippi, the road surface varies considerably.  Also like Mississippi, there are no shoulders on the roads.  There are slightly fewer dogs.  However at one point, we were chased about a hundred yards by a three-legged pitbull.  He was after the guy who shot his Pa.

Our route had dozens and dozens of turns.  We were doing pretty good... until we reached our destination city of Tuscaloosa AL.  Tuscaloosa is the home of the University of Alabama - who knew?  I certainly didn't.  Rick had made it a point to wear his University of Florida biking jersey.  I figured someone would throw a beer bottle at him, and end up hitting me by mistake.  Fortunately, the school semester had just ended, and beer is not sold on Sunday.  Anyway, we did get lost.  It was coming through the University campus where several of the road signs appear to be missing (presumably stolen).  I will say that the campus did have a bike lane.  It was all of 500 feet long.  Not a lot of biking going on in Tuscaloosa.  At least it is a start.

The big news of the day is that my sister, Lynn, and her kids (Lauren, Mary and Bo) drove all the way down from Nashville to have dinner with me.  We hit Longhorn's and had an excellent meal.  It is a treat to ride in a car.  They also brought me this great book - Mike and the Bike.  It has a forward by Lance Armstrong and comes with a CD that is narrated by Phil Ligget (the announcer on the Tour de France).

Another day down, and another day closer to the beach.  I've enjoyed coming through both rural Mississippi and rural Alabama.  Both states are very clean.  It is great seeing the heartland of America.  This is stuff you miss when traveling on the interstate system in a car.  But as I've said before, seeing the US is an ancillary perk.  This trip is a challenge.  You push yourself harder than you ever imagine you could.  You ride outside of your comfort zone.  You learn new skills.  You become a better cyclist.  But for me, the best part is the people.  The staff and co-riders make the ride.

Day 21 Aberdeen MS (140 miles)

What a difference a day makes.  Today was 140 miles in the saddle and over a vertical mile of climbing - a tough, tough day.  On paper, this was the hardest day east of the Mississippi.  Make no doubt about it - it was extremely hard. Yet, it was so much better than yesterday.  Today was the day you'll remember six months or six years from now.  It will make you forget about the exhaustion and pain.  It will tempt you to come back and do the whole trip again.

A front passed through Mississippi last night.  And while they were under severe thunderstorm advisories to the south of us, our area was clear and cool (bordering on cold).   In addition to the challenges brought about by 140 miles of biking and all that climbing, our route for the day had over three dozen turns.  We'd be biking the backroads, several of which were unmarked (i.e., no name for the road).  We took off as a group with temps about 50.  I was in short sleeves - I'm tired of arm warmers.  It was cold, especially since our route kept us mainly in the shade.

As usual, the fast group was working a pretty nice pace.  I was doing well... staying in the second position behind David until we hit one too many hills.  David has a great wheel (i.e., a steady pace) and was occassionally glancing back to see if I was still there.  He seemed to slow for me just when I needed it.  Personally, I find a wheezing guy hanging right off my wheel to be rather annoying... but it didn't seem to bother him.  I managed to hang with the group (in a quarter mile kinda way) until the first SAG at mile 40.  The roads in Mississippi run the gamut from very bad chip seal to near perfect.  And there is no rhyme or reason why one section of road is so bad, and the next section is golden.  The one thing they have in common: no shoulder.  That may be why we've been routed through these backroads.  Biking on busy highways with no shoulder is pretty dangerous.

The terrain was rolling farmland and woods.  Very picturesque and clean. For the past few days, you could see and smell the honeysuckle.  Everything is green and/or in bloom.  The evidence of the recent heavy rains is all around.  The only "downside" to this area (apart from the steep hills) are the dogs.  Every farm has several dogs that are bent on protecting their section of road.  I've always been able to outrun dogs, but a few riders have been bitten in the past.  They're taking no chances.  The best dog story today was when a dog was chasing Wolfgang; he looked at it and yelled "SIT!"  The dog stopped in its tracks and sat.

After the first SAG, I just didn't have the energy to keep up with fast pack.  I dropped off and was enjoying the scenery, when my chain hopped off on a steep climb.  It is no problem getting it back on; you just get your fingers greasy.  Rick found me, and we spent the rest of the day biking together in a pretty leisurely fashion. We kept a decent pace (about 17-18mph), but weren't in a big hurry.  We could actually carry on a conversation for most of the day.  Rick stopped to take pictures of a (sorta) large black snake, and I stopped to take pictures of cows.  To each his own.

A few miles from the final SAG (which was at mile 117), Rick and I were stopped to refill water bottles from the mechanic van.  The riders behind us caught up, including Mike, Karen and Jay who were riding sweep.  Jay hung back to chat and pace us to that SAG (see pic).  The road was empty.  Just really pretty country roads.  Temp was about 75.  Sun was shining.  Wind was behaving.  And we started picking up the pace.  As soon as I could see the SAG van, about a quarter mile away, I said "Wanna race?".  Before Jay could respond, I was out of the saddle and pedalling for all I had.  It was a flat section of straight road.  Jay was tucked down tight, while I was swinging my bike from side to side.  It was going to be close (I'm sure he was sandbagging), when Jay lost his chain.  We had topped off at over 30mph.  For an old, big guy on a flat section of road... that was pretty good.

From the final SAG to the motel, Rick and I weren't in any particular hurry.  The motel was on the far side of Arberdeen, so we got to see the town.  Like a lot of farming towns in the South, it has seen better days.  A lot of stores, especially on Main Street, are closed.  But there are some very nice antebellum homes and the town is clean.

For dinner, eight of us hit a tiny cafe specializing in burgers and catfish.  Randy snuck away and picked up the tab... cause that's just the kind of guy he is.  Conversation was great, and we all talked about how great today was and how much we all hated yesterday.  Such is life on the road when you're biking.  Your outlook is effected so much by the weather.  That day it rained, sleeted and snowed... that was one for the record books; something to brag about for years.  Yesteday's wind, on the other hand, was just miserable.

Like I said, today was one of those days that is going to tempt me in the future.  However, this is a question that comes up a lot among the riders: Could you do this ride again?  For me, the short answer is: No.  The long answer is: Nooooooooooooooo.   I have a feeling that these last six days are going to do a lot more to persuade me to change my mind.  Especially the bonding part.  But I've done those first seven days twice now, and they are killer hard.  But maybe... if we could get everyone to come back...

Day 20 Senatobia MS (115 miles)

I definitely jinxed myself when I ended yesterday's blog with the proclamation that I was having fun. The best thing I can say about today's ride is that it is over.

When I checked the weather this morning at our depature and arrival cities (Brinkley AR and Senatobia MS, respectively) both had high wind warnings... along with all points inbetween.  At last night's route discussions, we were promised tail winds.  The winds didn't get the memo and were blowing out of the SSE.  We were headed SE.  So... it was pretty much a gruesome headwind all day long.  It was 20-30mph winds battering us relentlessly.  Five of us got an early start, before the winds hit 20mph. We were going at a comfortable pace.  A bit too comfortable, in fact.  I could tell, because nothing was hurting a heck of a lot.  That would soon change.

Believe it or not, I have been told several times on this trip that I'm the happiest rider around.  People say, "You're ALWAYS smiling".  The truth of the matter is that when I'm in pain, my face contorts in such a way that it LOOKS like I'm smiling (in Korea, this means help).  And when the staff is on the side of the road and yells "How's it going Mikey!?", I always yell back enthusiasticlly "It's going GREAT!"  At that precise moment, dozens of voices in my head shout out in unison "HE DOESN'T SPEAK FOR ALL OF US!"

Back to today's reenactment of the Bataan death march.  The wind kicked into high gear around mile 40, and our pace slowed to 10mph.  And now we were pushing it.  And what appears to be a smile came over my face.  We had been on the road for over 3 hours.  We had 70 miles to go.  And we were going 10mph.  At this pace, we were going to be on the road for.... a long, long time.  A faster paceline came by (going 12 mph), and I hopped on.  But there was simply no escaping the wind.  Because it was coming at us from a slight angle, we needed to ride in an echelon (diagonal) pattern to get any relief.  The road would not allow that.  At least for me.  Others had squeezed out a spot, but I just couldn't manage to find a position that didn't put me out into the road.  So, I fought on.

Every once in a while, the road or route would turn to the east or, better still, northeast.  When that happened, speeds increased to over 20mph.  But I was so exhausted by that point, that I'd ended up biking alone.

A few days ago, I vowed to stop for any cyclist who was pulled over on the side of the road for mechanical issues (e.g., flat tire) and give moral support.  That really didn't work out so well (e.g., four-flat-Rick).  So I made another vow.  I'd stop for any cyclist who had pulled into a convenience store for drinks and a snack.  Shortly before the Mississippi River, I spied Dick and Wolfgang at a small convenience store.  They were standing out front with drinks and snacks, and I went into the store in order to alleviate that uncomfortable silence that comes when it becomes apparent that they aren't going to offer me any.   The woman at the cash register immediately picked up the conversation she must have been having with Dick and Wolfgang before I arrived.  "What do y'all do when the weather's bad?"  "Where y'all sleep?"  "Y'all doing this just for fun?"  She was very pleasant and came outside to see us off.  "That's so cool.  Y'all be careful."  Very friendly people here in Arkansas.

Right after the convenience store came the Mississippi River.  In all honesty, I had been dreading this crossing for over a year.  There are limited number of bridges over the Mississippi, and each one is heavily trafficked.  This was an ancient narrow two lane bridge.  The crossing itself wasn't that bad.  But once we reached the Mississippi (state) side, the road itself was very narrow with absolutely no shoulder.  Just a four inch drop off onto sharp rocks.  What state lines the side of their roads with sharp rocks?  This wasn't gravel; it was like broken pieces of flint.  For 6 miles, we biked on this narrow road with tractor trailor trucks blasting past.  And we were in the road.  This was definitely not fun.

The second and final SAG came at mile 73.  I was beat.  I was sore.  For the first time all trip, my lower back was aching from grinding out against the wind all day.  The SAG was out in the open, and there was no escape from the wind.  The strange thing about the day was that is was bright sunshine.  There is this huge low pressure system pounding the northern midwest states and it is just sucking the hot air off the Gulf.  I think I would have almost felt better if it been raining (I'm going to regret saying that).  I grabbed a few cookies, refilled my water bottles and hit the road.  I wanted to get today over with.  I wasn't into taking pics and only took a couple of really bad ones (one of which is below).  The stop sign at the lunch SAG was blown nearly over and shaking in the wind so much that it looked like it was going to sail at any moment.

The motel was 42 miles away, and I was biking solo.  Not much to say about this part of the country.  It looks like the South.  Big, open fields.  Nothing blocking the wind.  Every once in a while, I'd cross over a creek where there'd be a grove of hardwoods.  Then the wind would stop and, for a few seconds, you'd be in Huck Finn country.  All bucolic and serene.  And then that refreshing moment would be over.

The road finally turned in a northeast direction and I could pick up the pace.  However, by this point, I was in a foul mood and nothing was going to change it.  Especially the hills and severe case of hot foot I had developed.  I pulled off the road about 12 miles from the motel, took off my shoes and socks, rubbed my feet, and put my shoes back on without the socks.  Most bike shoes are somewhat mesh and allow for some circulation.  It helped.  Minimally.

At 10 miles from the motel, there was a turn off onto the worst "paved" road I have ever ridden.  I swear it was just a gravel road that someone had spray painted black.  After 5 miles of that, it turned into a perfectly paved road.  Perhaps just by comparison that road seemed "perfect". But even the "perfect" roads in Mississippi don't have shoulders.  It just isn't a "bike-friendly" state.  They're probably dealing with more important issues.

I think that one of the things that made today so terrible was that it was supposed to be a relatively "easy" day.  It was "only" 115 miles; there was not a tremendous amount of climbing; and we were supposed to have tailwinds.  In reality, there simply are no "easy" days out here.  Each day brings its own set of challenges.

At the beginning of this trip, Team Leader Mike said that we'd be biking "outside of our comfort zone".  I was "outside of my comfort zone" when I learned my flight from Bermuda to Newark did not include a meal.  By this point in the trip, my "comfort zone" is just a fuzzy memory.  I seem to recall that it is a leather Scandinavian chair in front of a big screen HD TV with a Playstation controller in my hand and a plate of nachos at my side.  Today was the antithesis of my comfort zone. 

Team Leader Mike is also fond of saying "the worst day on the bike is better than the best day at the office".  You've seen that expression before, probably with "on the bike" replaced by "at the beach" or "fishing" or "chewing gum".  It doesn't apply to me.  Over the years, I've worked with a number of really great people, and I've had some tremendous days at the office.  But, ... if you're one those people for which that expression applies... and we were talking about today as your "worst day on the bike"... and it was better than "your best day at the office"... then your life truly sucks.  'Cause this was one grueling day.

Day 19 Brinkley AR (102 miles)

Last night was at another Holiday Inn Express.  Another great room.  I will never look at a hotel room the same.  Over the years, I've stayed at some really nice hotels.  But these hotels and motels on this trip represent sanctuary and a reward for a hard day's ride.

It's gotten to the point where I fall asleep watching the Weather Channel each night.  And it is the first thing I turn on in the mornings.  For the record, I liked Al Roker better when he was fat.  It is ridiculous that I have an opinion on a weatherman's gastric bypass surgery.  Temp in Conway was 60 when I got up for breakfast.  Nice.  It had increased to 69 by the time it was time to load luggage.  The weather system to our north is drawing up warm, humid air from the Gulf.

Several riders got an early start, but most of us took off as a group again this morning.  About a quarter mile from the hotel, I was the only one caught by a traffic light.  I was going to have to sprint to catch up with the group, which is what I did when the light finally changed.  But I was caught by the next light.  Half a mile into the ride, and I had already been orphaned.  I pushed on alone.  We were all biking into a steady headwind.  Speeds weren't great, especially outside of the paceline.  I caught Pacific Mike, Dick and Scott - all of whom had gotten an early start.  We rode as a foursome, until I attempted to bridge the gap to the faster group.   I couldn't even see the faster group, so it was an effort in futility.

We all met up at the first SAG, but the faster group took off before I could down enough food and refill water bottles.  It was turning out to be a hot, humid day - lot's of fluids were going to be necessary.  Pacific Mike, Dick and I left the SAG.  Right after that SAG were a series of about half a dozen turns.  I learned that if I didn't want to get lost, then I should follow Pacific Mike and Dick.  They never get lost.  I was just hanging back, when I thought about some advice I had recently been given about enjoying the ride.  I slowed down a bit and even got off the bike to take some pics.

I eventually got back to biking seriously and knew that there was a faster group behind me.  Jay, Paul, Reem, Randy and Brian had gotten a delayed start this morning due to mechanical difficulties on one of their bikes. I knew at some point, they were going to catch me.  Sure enough, at about mile 42 I heard "Hey Mikey!"  It was Jay.  "Hop on the lunch train."  Each successive rider said the same thing; except they called it the "Jay train".  I hopped on the last wheel and my speed went from about 15mph to 22mph.  That is an incredible difference.  We were headed into a steady headwind, and Jay was setting an amazing pace.

We were riding on back country roads that run somewhat parallel to I-40.  You couldn't see the interstate except for the places where we crossed over or under it.  Temps were right at 90 and humidity was high.  We rode past rice fields and catfish ponds.  The ponds were right by the road and served to artificially increase the humidity even more.

The lunch SAG was at mile 72, and I was fading fast about mile 68.  I just wanted to drop off the paceline and limp into lunch.  Jay took a look back, saw I had dropped off and peeled off to the back of the line.  He started slowing, I motioned for him to continue going forward... but he kept coming back.  "Aren't you going to let me suffer in quiet dignity?" I asked.  "No", he said. "I wanted to watch".  He pointed to a spot on the road about three inches behind his rear axle and two inches to the right of his wheel.  That's where I put my front tire, and he pulled me along.  Before I knew it, we were back up to 21mph.  It was really hard; but at each point where I was just to give up, Jay seemed to sense it and made some wisecrack that took my mind off the pain.  Before I knew it, we were at lunch.

I rode the last 30 miles from the lunch SAG to the hotel all on my own.  My speed was 17mph - 19mph.  At 17mph, the pedaling was easy, and I wondered if this is what it feels like to be Jay biking at 21mph into a headwind.  The difference between 17mph and 21mph is huge; the required effort increases exponentially.  This part of Arkansas is swamp and the flood plains of the Mississippi, and they were flooded.  Earlier in the day, we had seen areas that had been hit by the recent tornadoes.  The only mobile home I saw all day was one that had apparently been ripped open by a tornado.

When I got to the hotel, I took an ice bath - my first.  It was just a cold bath with a bucket of ice thrown in.  The ice melted pretty fast, I was burning slap up.  The local newspaper came to the hotel to take a picture of our group.  The reporter is also the local insurance agent; he said this was the biggest story of the day.  For dinner, six of us descended upon the local Pizza Hut and then hit the Baskin Robbins next door. 

Today was much longer than 102 miles should be due to the headwinds.  I'm exhausted and stuffed.  We had to walk over the interstate to get to dinner, and for the first time in my life, I'm walking like I don't have a purpose.  I walking like those people at the mall who are always in the way.  I think it is called "ambling" or "strolling" or something like that.  We have an early load tomorrow - 6:15am.  And it is going to be warm.  And we're crossing the Mississippi River, so it is sure to be humid.

And just for the record (and despite what it sounds like), I am having fun.  Thanks again everyone for the comments and e-mails.  I can't tell you how much that adds to the experience.  I really appreciate it.

Day 18 Conway AR (125 miles)

The rest day was perfect... but too short.

Weather here in Arkansas is clear skies and record high (or near record high) temps.  We hit about 90 today.  This area was drenched a few days ago, and evidence is all around.  Ditches by the road are still partly full of water.  And everything is really green.  Roads around Fort Smith are better than Oklahoma; many of them are freshly paved or in the process of being paved.

Our trip out of Fort Smith this morning was in rush hour traffic (again... yes, they do have a rush hour).  Like every other morning that is clear, we were biking into the rising sun.  We encountered a fair amount of road construction coming out of town... always a bit of a challenge.  Today, I got the early leap and was out front for about the first 20 miles.  When I was caught, it was a paceline led by Russ and he said "hop on" as he flew past me.  It was just a four-man group, and I accelerated to catch the last rider... Wolfgang (aka, the long-legged-beauty).  The paceline is a wonderful thing if you can catch it and hang on.  I was going about 25% faster with about the same amount of effort as biking alone.  My spirits soared.  The best thing about a fast paceline?  It's fast.  We biked that way to the first SAG, which was about 18 miles further down the road.

Despite yesterday's massage (with emphasis on my left quads), my left thigh was screaming at me for about the first 20 miles - or about the point at which I grabbed the paceline.  Suddenly, it went fairly quiet.  There was a pain underneath my left knee, but the thigh was much better.

After the SAG, the size of the paceline grew.  I hung on for about 10 miles, until it was my turn at the pull (riding out front).  As usual, I over did it and got dropped when my turn was over.  I've gotten so much faster that I don't mind at all when I get dropped.  These guys are all a couple of levels (or more) above me.  If you don't get out there and push yourself, you're not going to get any better.  Riding alone is not bad at all.  However, shortly afterwards, I had another flat.  I'm pretty good at changing tubes, and Team Leader Mike is really good at showing up in the van right when I could use a floor pump (as opposed to my tiny mini-pump).

Right after I changed the flat, I caught up with Rick (four flats on Monday Rick) and we spent the rest of the day riding together.  We picked up riders and dropped riders throughout the day, but the two of us stayed together.  Not killer fast, but moving along at a good clip.  We even slowed down enough at points to carry on a conversation (something that is usually reserved for breakfast, SAGs and dinner).

Arkansas is pretty.  It looks a bit like the Carolinas - at least the section we rode today.  We are seeing brick homes for practically the first time all trip.  We rode past a few lakes and ponds - all very full.  Roads are pretty good... but there are sections where you're riding right on that white line.

The final SAG of the day was in the small town of Morrilton, and Barbara had set up next to a train depot and under trees.  By this point in the day, it was getting seriously hot. Chairs were out (something we normally do only at lunch), and I could take off my shoes and relax in the shade.  I had been getting a case of hot foot.   From the final SAG to the hotel was "only" 20 miles, so there wasn't a lot of stress to get going.

For dinner, Rick, David and I hit a Ruby Tuesdays and then it was off to the Walmart next door.  Arkansas is the corporate home of Walmart.  This one was huge, but not anything special.  Perhaps a bit cleaner than others.  At dinner, we discussed why we came on this trip.  It will vary somewhat from rider to rider, but one common theme seems to be: to say we biked across the US in 27 days.  It is a tough, tough challenge.  We have some serious overachievers in this group who are up to a challenge (and then we have me).  Seeing the US is a secondary perk.

Sixteen days of biking done and only nine to go. Tomorrow is supposed to be another hot one, but we will probably dodge the rain again.  I have no doubt that it will catch us before we reach the coast.  Everyone is pretty sore.  Numb fingers, hands and feet.  Over half the riders have some elements of saddle sores.  Sunburnt lips.  Pulled hamstrings.  Tight quads.  Aching necks and backs.  The only rider who looks like they just arrived is Jay.  And I'm beginning to think he has been genetically altered.

Day 17 Rest Day #2

Today was our second and last rest day.  From here on out, it is ten straight days of biking to Savannah.

I was down at breakfast at 6am. It was the self-serve hotel variety. If you haven't been to one of these lately, the make-it-yourself waffle seems to be the new rage.  It's pretty cool, and I've gotten good at it.  The other riders started drifting in shortly after I arrived.  We can't get out of this habit of an early breakfast.  Sometimes we wake in the middle of the night hungry and count down the hours until we can eat again.  I spent a leisurely hour and a half just talking with everyone.  It is great to not be in a hurry.

My massage was at 10am and it was a great, deep-tissue one.  She noticed that my left thigh was very tight (I told you it was hurting) and worked it hard.  I can't tell you how relaxed I felt afterwards.  As soon as it was over, I ran into Jim and he was headed to the bike store in the van.  He invited Dick and myself along.  Dick was a little hesitant because apparently there was this long-legged beauty that had just set up at the pool in a black bikini (I didn't see her).  But he came anyway.  I'm wearing through biking shorts, so I picked up another pair and a biking jersey that says "Scott's Bicycles - Fort Smith Arkansas" on the front and "Thank You Jesus" on the back collar.  We got back to the hotel and saw that Dick's "long-legged beauty" was actually Wolfgang in a Speedo.  Dick was pained.

I had left my suitcase on my bed and had a nice, hand-written note from housekeeping that said, "I wasn't able to make your bed today due to we ain't allowed to touch your stuff".  The funny thing is... I could have sworn the entire housekeeping staff was Filipino.  Good to see that they are assimilating nicely.

It was just a perfect day off the bike.  Weather was perfect.  The city is super clean.  Got a chance to chat with just about everyone.  This ride is extremely difficult.  But when you talk to the other riders, you learn that it is extremely difficult for everyone.  Even the best struggle.  It is a challenge.  No one ever gets off the bike at the end of the day and says "that was easy".  We may say "that was great" (the "but I'm glad it is over" is always implied if not explicitly stated).  Jay may be the exception - but he's in a different league (perhaps in a different world).

Looks like we're going to dodge the bad weather for another day.  Trouble may be brewing ahead in Mississippi where some of the low-lying roads we take may be underwater.  But that's a few days off.

Thanks for the e-mails.  I love hearing from everybody.  The computer is just about the first thing I pull out in the afternoons and the last thing I put away in the mornings.  Always hoping for that one last message.  It's great staying in touch with the real world.