Seperation Anxiety

Fair warning that I'm going to wax a bit philosophical here, so you might just want to skip a few paragraphs. I brought my bike to my LBS today to have it boxed and shipped out tomorrow. I miss Jonas already, and I suddenly feel as though I haven't biked nearly enough to prepare for the trip that's... one week away? It's always amazing to look back at the start of a journey when you're reaching the end of it, see how the world's changed and see how you've changed yourself. Even though the actual trip hasn't started, getting to this point has been a journey in its own right. Comparing myself back when I dreamed up this trip and the person I am now, it's like looking at two different people. I'm stronger, faster, and more knowledgable than I was nine months ago. I didn't think I'd change so much before I even got out on the road. There's going to be a noticeable void next year, without something of this gravity to look towards. Sure, there's graduation and the real world. But I think I'd rather do this again, maybe as a leader. Or take that walk around the world. But before I digress too much.

I did one last long ride yesterday with a few friends to Spokes in Vienna. It was a great trip, although as usual I was fighting headwind coming and going. The spot for my favorite moment on the ride is split between seeing the old man carying a dog in a basket on his bike, and the fair. Vienna was celebrating Memorial Day in style, complete with carnival rides and about a million food vendors and pedestrians. It was a bit annoying having to hop off my bike and walk through the crowd, but I contented myself knowing the car traffic was a million times worse. I treated myself to a pair of Specialized Armadillos at Spokes, the best flat protection I could buy for the trip. I rode the rest of the way back home with my stock tires slung over my shoulder. Climbing out of the saddle was a bit of a pain, since the tires kept sliding between my arms and the seat, but I got a lot of practice dexterously unweaving my way out of that. I also got a lot of grins from the seasoned cyclists I passed. It was great.

The ride was followed by a poolside BBQ, or as I have affectionately named it, "Mark's Memorial Day Carbo Load". I didn't stop eating from two o clock until midnight, effectively negating any health benefits my ride gave me. I have a feeling that yesterday's binge is something of a precursor for the rest of my summer. I'm looking forward to it. I'm also glad that my clothes will stretch a bit.

Wish me luck, the long haul's almost through! My next post will probably be after orientation, or the night before I head out to Providence.

Bike and Build is a harsh mistress

Traveling is hard. I feel like that's just the simple truth of the situation. Especially in these days of high-traffic on the roads and increased airport security. Traveling with sports equipment is addmitedly even more of a pain. I've found that out, in bits and pieces, as I've been trying to orchestrate my trip to Providence. Thankfully, the worst of it is over.

When I started planning for this trip, I had no idea just how many people I'd have to communicate with. Even taking out the hundreds of people I've spoken to about the cause, raising funds from, learned about cycling and affordable housing from, the number is still astronomical. I've done a lot of wheeling and dealing with bike shops, shipping companies, and airlines this last week. I've also been more in touch with HQ and my trip leaders than I ever had before. When you're looking at it from a distance, it seems pretty simple. Get myself, my bags, and my bike to Providence by the start of orientation. When you get down to the nitty gritty, it took hours, days, to coordinate everything.

Thankfully, the worst of it is over. I've got my plane ticket, a shipping company that guarantees and insures that my very important parcel (bike) gets where it needs to be on time, and found a bike shop that will break down my bike and pack it for shipping in the size package it needs to be in. I've also figured out exactly where the bike needs to be shipped, gotten the lion's share of my gear purchased, finished my fundraising, and started planning a long ride with some other riders. I'm really excited for that; should be something like seventy or eighty miles when all is said and done.

I still have more to do before the start of the trip. I haven't even started researching for my presentation, let alone talking to the other people in that group. Wish me luck, and pray that I don't miss out on the opening leg of the trip because my bike gets shipped to Timbuktu.

Conquering Mountains

So a lot has happened in life recently, particularly in the cycling department. At the moment, I'm fresh from a fifty-plus mile ride from one bike shop to another. It was fun, but that's not really what this post is about. Mostly this post is about how I biked up a mountain. We're talking eight miles of uphill. This time I won't leave it up to your imagination, because I took pictures! Well, three of them. I'll get to them after a little narrative. Well, except for the obligatory bike and build shot to the left there.

My roommate Chris and I wanted to say goodbye to Harrisonburg properly. Chris decided that I was ready to tackle Reddish Knob, the highest point in Northern Virginia, apparantly. I've been up Reddish before; it's paved, so you can drive up all the way to the top. Or bike up it. And well, it's pretty high, and steep, and sometimes cars have trouble getting up it. Chris has this lovely habit of taking me on rides that are way out of my depth. But I felt up for the climb, so we loaded the bikes up on his car and drove to Dayton. Normally we'd bike there, but we were on a time crunch and neither of us felt ready for a fifty mile round trip, plus eight miles of straight uphill. It's a good thing, because Reddish Knob is a hard.

Not a whole lot of detail to give on the climb. It was hard, and for most of it I did not like it at all. I've met a lot of cyclists that love climbing. They say it's meditative and they're right, it is. But that meditation is punctuated by a great deal of pain and discomfort, and the demoralizing fact that you're essentially going walking speed. On the plus side, it was beautiful. The real low was reaching mile four, realizing we had another four miles to go, and feeling like there was nothing in the tank. But all the bad feelings were washed away the second I saw the summit, and realized that I had beaten the mountain. I screamed harder than I think I ever have when I reached the end, and probably thoroughly freaked out the group of guys in their pickup that beat me there.

The descent down made the grueling climb all worthwhile. We clocked speeds of fifty mph. I'll probably go faster, and I know that I'll climb and descend higher mountains this summer. But I got a taste of what beating a mountain pass feels like, and it was awesome. I know I've said it before, but I'll say it again. The strength you gain from doing something truly monumental is more than just physical. We should all of us experience it.

But musings aside, it's time for the photographs.

Here's a visual of Chris, for those of you who don't know him. Yeah, he kicked my keister up the mountain, and he did it in a double chainring.

There were a couple awesome overlooks on the way up. This one was truly epic, although the photograph doesn't do it justice at all.

This is another of the top. I wish my photography skills were greater, cause a panoramic from the summit would be truly epic. You can see the entire valley for miles and miles around, assuming there's not much haze.

Annnddd that's it. I've gotta say, the picture posting's a bit of a pain. I can't make it look pretty like everyone else. Ahh well, practice makes perfect.

Peace Out Hombres!