It's not the tide of a gentle lullaby
or the roll of a perfect storm.
It's the cacophony of banging pots or questions of foxes
that wakes us up every morn'.
We shuffle our feet and rub out bleary eyes-
thank the day that were healthy, (not too) wealthy, and (a little) wise
and get ready for a day of cycling and sunny skies.
The same pots that woke us provide oatmeal for us
topped with peanut butter and craisins galore.
We lick our Keith TitaniumTM bowls clean
and suck on our 3rd-day unwashed sporks.
We slap on our sunscreen and thrown on our chamois
and say one last prayer before we begin:
"Oh Lord God please help us send it
we don't want the L, we want the win."
My heel pushes down to a satisfying click.
I'm buckled, strapped, saddled and ready to begin.
"This is going to be a fantastic ride," I decree.
Oh gosh, what's that, oh shoot there goes my knee.
Now I could tell you about all that we do on our ride-
the logistics, stopping points, weather, and miles.
But that's really no fun when really instead
I can give you an exclusive peak (pun intended) at what's going through my head:
*pardon, this part doesn't rhyme
*the following reflects my own thoughts and not that of my greater teammates'
1) Where does all the water I'm drinking go? It's been like 5 bottles and I still don't have to use the bathroom.
2) How come I'm not sweating? Oh right, wind.
3) Have I really been thinking about my legs for the past 10 miles?
4) Alright, let's think about something else-- something productive and philosophical.
5) Wow this view is absolutely gorgeous!
6) Oh wow this view hasn't changed for like the past 20 minutes.
7) I really hope that gravel didn't pop my tube!
8) Oh right, remember to do the clock drill! (the clock drill is a motion you do with your foot while clipped in that maximizes power from your legs)
Of course, these are only a few of the thoughts
that run through my relatively blurry head.
But on with the tale of a Stanford Spokes journey
to a place unknown in a foreign city.
After about eight hours of riding with breaks sprinkled in between,
we arrive at a campground, church, or Warm Showers (if we're lucky).
After dumping out the van and getting our things ordered,
we might take a little break, relax, and briefly recover.
Alex may read a book or draw out some maps;
Brian might post on his Instagram or take a nice nap;
Brad will do something musical, maybe on his laptop or ukulele;
Vivian might join Brad and sing, or maybe write and read;
Olivia may call her friends from home or write in her journal;
Alyssa will do something artsy or write letters to send home.
Me, I will probably read or write or sing.
But to be honest, sometimes I'm too tired to remember a thing.
After a dinner of pasta and beans, topped with indulgent Ragu,
or if we're lucky some fresh veggies and bell peppers too,
we'll have a team meeting and go over the final details
for another day like this poem, yet so different in many ways.
For this is the tale of a Stanford Spokes journey:
lovely people biking through a beautiful country.
It's about the places we see and the people we meet,
and the fantastic, incredible, everlasting memories.
-Rachel