Kentucky is strange, but that’s pretty much what I’ve said about every state so far. It has been one of the prettiest states to bike through – the shock of enveloping green after weeks of sand and corn, the most stunning sunsets and sunrises that spread so far along the horizon only a gliding bird reminds of reality, the many many animals, big and small, we’ve greeted along the way… It has also been one of much darkness – the highways smell of death from the road kill, there are people and places that I find myself building a shell around, my knee still acts up towards the afternoons and I am frustrated that my body cannot keep up with what my mind endeavors…
There are a lot of happy times, like when Katherine came back today (!), or when Katherine and I swung on a huge swing in our host’s yard watching his spectacular dog interact with the Spokes, or when the team drove over to Indiana for a (moderately) late night Culver’s run. There are many less than ideal moments, like when we biked down a highway with zero shoulder and roaring semis in the rain, or when I sat muggy and bug-bitten (all sorts of bugs), and damp from the aforementioned rain, outside of a gas station watching the sun set (not even a pretty one) at the most rapid speed.
Good times, bad times, it seems as if I should be used to it by now. Yet most often I still find my emotions and state of mind pulled involuntarily this way and that by external things out of my control. I find myself easily spiraling when my knee starts to hurt. I find my legs slow down when I see yet another hill in the last few miles of a two hour leg. I am much affected by the bad, but equally I am influenced by good times to perhaps a disproportionate extent. Aja and I have had too many belly hurting, tear brimming laughs from the simplest pun or childhood story. Whenever I see a cow or horse or frog or chicken along our ride I will feel the inexplicable need to shout out my find to Joel. Joking around with Timothy about literally anything in the most literary yet also highschool-boy way can turn any mediocre moment into a treasured memory. And when I am flying down a beautiful descent or cruising on the lush green backroads I find myself smiling very wide, and knowing that I am happy in the purest sense makes me happier.
horse plays with my bike. moments before it was knocked over
We are less than two weeks away from D.C. I have felt a bit burnt out the past few days. Riding eight hours a day with less than six hours of sleep for two months takes a toll on the body. I have fought the urge (more than once) to shut my eyes on the bike for a short nap on the straightaways. Physically, I am exhausted, and the rest days sometimes seem more attractive than biking. Mentally, I am also depleted. I have missed my family more on this trip than I’ve ever been in my six years away from home. Yet whenever I begin to pedal, when I hear the certain whistle of the wind, and feel each little dip under my wheel, I remember the singularity of this experience and the absolute joy. When I pack myself into Ody next to my teammates and all our laughters mix together, I know that this is very much home for me.
joel’s canned chicken dinner that came close to dethroning Colonel Sanders
See you soon,
Sophia