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.

Day 16 Fort Smith AR (109 miles)

After yesterday's killer 146 mile ride, it was nice to look forward to something more manageable.  Not sure when a 109 mile ride fell into the "more manageable" column, and I'm pretty sure its not going to stay in that category once this trip is over.

At the end of yesterday's ride, I stopped to watch Wolfgang change his tenth flat, and we biked the last 8 miles to the hotel together.  I really enjoyed that section of the long ride, and I vowed to be a better person and stop more often for disabled cyclists - if only to provide moral support.  That vow would be put to the test today.

Throughout this trip, I have found the hardest part of the day to be that moment when I wheel my bike out of my motel room and let the door shut behind me with the motel key inside.  There's no turning back at that point.  No more warm comfortable room.  No more hot shower.  The soothing voice of Sponge Bob quickly becomes a distant memory as I head out on a long day on the bike.  Today... it didn't feel so bad, even though it was the best hotel room I've had on the entire trip.

Mechanical repairs are usually in the evening.  However, due to yesterday's long ride, they were put off until 7:15am this morning.  There were several of us in need of some sort of work.  I had a small ding in my wheel from my blowout and I needed to replace my rear tire.  Mike quickly fixed the wheel, and I set about changing the tire and tube.  Several other riders also had small problems.  This trip is hard on equipment, bodies and minds.

We all started off from the hotel at the same time.  There is something about this group - they really like starting the morning en mass.  Like on several previous occassions, I took the initiative to get us moving and led the procession.  About 100 yards from the hotel, I made a wrong turn.  Do you know what is like to have 14 cyclists all yelling "Hey hardcore guy, you went the wrong way!" at you?  Fortunately, they were all stuck at a red light, and I was able to quickly resume my forward position.  I was determined to get this group going.  Not sure why.  Usually about the time their legs are just warming up, mine are blowing up.

I stayed out front for about 2 miles before the paceline caught me.  I snuggle in the middle, and we're making good time.  Russ is out front, and while he is perfectly capable of leaving us in his dust, he sets the most perfect pace.  We're traveling along at about 22mph, and best of all, I'm able to breathe somewhat normally.  With each successive rider taking his turn at the front, the pace continues at that perfect pace.  Then it is Per's turn and I'm right behind him.  Per can set a grueling pace, but he is content to continue at this wonderful pace.  I can tell Rick is behind me; not because I looked, but because I know the sound of his rear cassette.  In a paceline, the perfect place to be is that second spot.  You get the draft.  You can see upcoming obstacles.  And most importantly, there is none of that yo-yo-ing that goes on as you move further back the paceline.

Finally, Per peels off and it is my turn.  The first position is my second most favorite spot in the paceline.  In this case, it is like you're the engineer on this large train.  You set the pace, and I continued to keep it at that same speed - about 22mph.  Faster on the descents.  Slower on the climbs.  This goes on for several miles until we hit a particularly steep section of road.  Like I said, I know Rick is behind me and I think I know the pace he likes. Which is right below my anerobic threshold.  Works for me.  However, as we crest the hill, the fast riders decide that they've digested enough of their breakfast and it is time to crank.  The paceline breaks apart.  I drop off the back, and Rick manages to hang on.  Oh, well.  I don't mind biking solo.  I know that there are several riders about a mile or so behind me.

The day is really nice.  The air is crisp but warming.  Sun is shining.  And I'm in short-sleeves, which is the only way to bike.  Up ahead, I see Rick by the side of the road changing a flat.  And I remember my vow to give moral assistance.  I stop.  After a while, the other riders come along.  Scott also stops.  He really doesn't like to see anyone stranded.  Rick changes tubes, and we head off as a three-man paceline.  It works just fine.  Until this horrible sound comes from Rick's bike.  Turns out he's picked up a nail in his rear tire and it sounds like he's lost a spoke.  I've never seen a flat like this one.  I took a pic.

His second flat in about 20 miles.  Ok... my vow to "aid" was being put to the test.  Then came flat #3.  And flat #4.  Which actually came while he was changing flat #3.  Seriously.  If it had been me, I would have taken the hint and assumed that God wanted me in the van.  But Rick just kept on smiling and changing flats.

Jay is riding sweep and stops as well.  We assume that flat #4 is being taken care of (Mike and the van are there) and the two of us pace into lunch.  Jay says "Pick a number".  I say "21", and he sets a pace at 21mph.  The next 12 miles fly by - he is the easiest person to pace behind.  His upbeat attitude is constant and infectious.  At stoplights, he strikes up conversations with guys on Harleys.  I'm trying to avoid eye contact, and he's joking around with them and leaving them all in smiles.

It is at lunch that I discover why leaving my hotel room was so easy this morning.  I still have the room key sticking out of my shorts (our shorts have no pockets).

Rick and Scott join us at lunch, and the three of us (sans Jay) set off for the final leg to the hotel.  We're perhaps an hour behind the lead riders at this point.  We hit a detour, ride down a road that is torn up to the bedrock, get lost and somehow manage to end up on the right road.  It is hot.  For the first time since California, it is hot hot.  After about 15 miles of this, Scott makes an excellent decision and we pull into a convenience store to cool off. 

Turns out that most of the prior riders had done that same thing because the exuberant redheaded Amazon behind the counter shouts out "Y'all are way behind."  She knows where we're going (i.e., Savannah) and asks "Y'all doing it just for fun too?"  We explain that yes, it is all for "fun" and we have been plagued by flats today.  "Ain't no surprise", she says.  "We have the worst roads here in Oklahoma".  She is absolutely correct.  Except for a few very golden sections, the roads in Oklahome have been terrible. The scenery and people have been great, but the pavement sucks. But I don't want to simply agree.  I want to say something nice - but all that comes out is "Oh..... you....."  I almost say "Yes, but you sure have a lot of roadkill."  Thankfully, I bite my tongue just in time.  However, that is true as well.  Oklahoma has more roadkill per linear mile of highway than any other place I have ridden.  It is mainly possum, armadillo and skunk - three species whose natural defenses fail miserably against a '92 Buick Roadmaster.

Finally, we leave the convenience store and head for the hotel, which is about 15 miles away.  My natural shower instinct takes over, and I leave Rick and Scott in the dust.  Not very nice.  I will try harder next time.  Somewhere around 10 miles from the hotel, we cross into Arkansas.  But we are on very, very back roads and there is no sign.  But there is a change in pavement.  It is better pavement; however, it is about 50 years old.  What do you expect on these back roads?  Very soon, I'm into Fort Smith rush hour traffic (yes... there is such a thing) and bicycles are out of place.  This is where the route sheet comes in handy, because there are about a dozen turns in the last 4 miles.  At the end of a century ride, biking in heavy traffic, looking down at a route sheet precariously clipped to your handlebars and scanning ahead for road signs is tricky.  But I make it to the hotel, which has ice water and cookies waiting.

Tomorrow is our rest day.  Heck yeah!  And Jay, who is from Arkansas, has arranged for three massage therapists to come to our hotel.  Most of us have signed up for an hour.  Randy has signed up for two hours because that's just the kinda guy he is - he's going to do twice as much as the next guy. 

We have our evening meeting and Jay's mother is there to give him a lift to his house up in Fayetteville (about 60 miles north).  I get to meet her and tell her how wonderful he has been to ride with.  I then ask her if she has a tattoo on her arm that says "Son".  (Don't tell my mother, but I think it makes for a wonderful Mother's Day gift).

For dinner, eight of us hit the Olive Garden and devour the "all you can eat" salad and bread sticks, before consuming big plates of pasta.  There is not a crumb left on the table.  Usually, eight people at a table is a little over-whelming for me.... but it is just perfect with this group.  We then head to the Braum's ice cream parlor next door, where we get sundaes and (just to be safe) an ice cream cone to go.  We found three other riders doing the same thing.  Each one of us eats like a horse.  I heard one rider say "I was 163 when I started this trip.  I'm now 164."  For the record, if I ever get down to 164, I'm going to have it printed on a tee shirt.  The weight doesn't start dropping off until late next week.  At least, that's what I've been told.  It better.

I'm looking forward to my day off.  Fort Smith is a really nice, clean town - the perfect place to unwind.  15 days of biking down; 10 to go.  And we're in the South, y'all.  I feel at home.

Day 15 McAlester OK (146 miles)

If biking 146 miles is on your bucket list (i.e., things to do before you die), take it off and replace it with something simplier.  Like eating a gallon of Chunky Monkey.  Or if you really think you must, bike 12 miles a day for 12 days and call it close enough.

Our motel in Chickasha OK last night had an indoor pool.  Half the rooms were inside and organized around the pool; the other half were on the outside of the motel facing the parking lot. The pool had a jacuzzi, picnic area and ping pong table. In addition to us cyclists, the motel was housing about a dozen little league baseball teams that had come to Chickasha to play in a tournament.  That meant that the pool, jacuzzi, picnic area and halls were full of about a hundred 8-12 year-olds having a great time.  My room overlooked the pool.  The kids were really good, but kids are kids - and they were a little loud.  I was tired, and the sounds of all those kids playing was actually soothing.  It sounded like I was on vacation.  All that laughter made me so relaxed.  I went to sleep about 9pm - a full hour before the pool closed. 

We are all getting a little brain dead from these long days.  Our breakfast was the usual self-serve variety; but you needed to ask the waitress for milk.  Per, from Denmark, came in a little late.  He came to our table, looked down at my cereal and said, "You found the... cow?".  I looked down at my cereal, then up at Per and said, "You mean you want the cow juice?"  "Yes, yes.  The cow juice."  So I handed him my container of milk, which will henceforth be known in my family as "cow juice".

Today's ride started out on the cool side, but the skies were clear.  We left the motel as one big group.  No one got an early start.  It was Sunday morning and we were traveling out of town sort of through an industrial park.  Four lanes of no traffic.  We weren't biking as a paceline.  Instead, for the first time we were biking as a peleton - just one big group.  It was great.  I was in the middle, and the people to my left and right were so close that I could reach over and change their gears.  "You're going a bit too fast.  Let's downshift you."

About two miles into the ride, David sprints away.  No one answers.  As far as I know, that's the last anyone saw of David all day.  I spent all day yesterday with him, and it left me exhausted.  Where did all of that energy come from?  Maybe being super athletic and 20 years younger had something to do with it.

The fast group picks up speed.  I'm chatting with Jay, and it quickly gets to a point where I need to make a choice.  Keep talking or breathe.  Survival instincts take over, and I shut up.  The pace is very fast, and then we hit the hills.  Each climb leaves me anaerobic.  I last for the first 8 miles, then the group slowly pulls away.  We are travelling over long, rolling hills, and I can continue to see the group for about an hour.  But there is no way to catch them.  I continue to try.  I am biking like I'm on an 18 mile training ride - not an 146 mile painfest. I decide on another tactic: short SAG stops.

At each SAG, I wolf down food, fill my water bottles and leave with some of the faster riders.  Inevitably, I will get dropped - but it helps me keep my pace up.  I know that at any time there are at least four riders behind me, and I want to stay in front of them.

After lunch, Randy misses a turn.  He realizes his mistake after a few miles and gets on the correct road.  He sneaks up behind me and reaches over to give me a push up the hill.  Instead, he gooses me and I shoot straight up.  Guess you had to be there.  We continue to bike together on some gorgeous, empty country roads.  The road surface isn't great, but the views and company are.  You could be anywhere in the southeast.  It is sunny, warm and green.  Wildflowers are blooming everywhere.  Another one of those days I envisioned when I decided I wanted to bike across the country.

We finally get on a highway.  For the most part, the Oklahoma roads we've been biking have no shoulder.  You're biking on the white line.  But we find ourselves on a beautiful wide and smoothly paved shoulder, and Randy offers to pace me into the final SAG.  He asks how fast I'd like to go.  I say about 20 - 21mph.   We bike at that pace for a while.  Like six seconds.  Then Randy's natural tendencies take over and we're blasting down the highway at 32mph.  I keep up until my route sheet flys off my handlebars (where it is clipped).  I brake to get it... there are a ton of turns in the final ten miles that get us to the hotel.  By the time I stop, the route sheet is a quarter of a mile back up the road.  My bike goes east. Occassionally, it goes north or south.  But my bike never, ever goes west.  We've been west and don't need to go back.  I figure I can make it to the final SAG and get a new route sheet there.

On the last leg from the final SAG to the hotel, I hit a rock while going down a steep hill and blow out my rear tire.  I have the wheel off the bike and the tire off the wheel when Mike and Karen pull up.  My new wheel has a ding that we will have to straighten out later.  The tire has a small tear, but I can make it to the hotel.  The tube is toast, of course.  Bummer about the new tire - they cost as much as a car tire.  Again, not a cheap sport.

Mike and Karen pull off after a while, and I continue biking towards the hotel when I see Wolfgang on the side of the road changing a tire.  He had two wires in his tire.  In the last two weeks, I think he has had at least ten flats.  Wolfgang is one of my favorite riders; just an absolute workhorse.  I stop to make sure all is OK.  He is about finished with the tire change, and then Mike and Karen pull up.  The four of us bike the final eight miles to the hotel, which is great because we don't need to consult our route sheets.

I finish the ride right at nine hours; that's nine hours in the saddle.  It was was more time out on the road due to SAGS and the flat.  We had battled a pesky headwind for most of the day.  Sometimes it increased to "annoying", but never "soul crushing".  We had about 5000 feet of climbing, mainly in the form of these long rollers.  If they had been a little closer together, I could have used the speed coming down one to help get up the next.  But they were spaced too far apart.

I have developed a soreness in my right calf, which is good for two reasons.  First, it takes my mind off the pain in my left thigh.  Second, it means that I'm spinning more.  To be a really good cyclist, you need to pedal at a relatively high cadence (rpm).  When you do that, you bring your calf muscles more into play.  If you've ever been to a spinning class, you probably know what I mean.  If it didn't happen to you, then you probably saw some newbie jump off the bike after fifteen minutes, grabbing a calf and screaming.

Today was hard.  All the days are hard, but this was really long.  But I'm getting stronger and mentally tougher.  There's not a day that I don't think I could finish.  I was beat at the end of today's ride, but I could have continued if it was necessary.  Tonight we're at a really nice Holiday Inn Express.  The room is new, modern and huge.  I don't want to leave it.  We have a "normal" day tomorrow, and then it is our rest day.

As a final note, I hope all the family in Tennessee is dry and safe.  That storm system in front of us is flooding that area pretty bad.