Today, I rode 133 miles. Which is absurd. To give you an idea of what that feels like, here is a chronology of my day.
(Before I get too far, let me say that this was not an official Bike the US for MS day. This is me doing something stupid and extra to see the caves. This is not typical for the tour.)
5:30, Mile 0 - Attempt to get up and fail miserably.
7:30, Mile 0 - Finally get rolling. Blissfully unaware of the day that is to come.
Mile 20 - I surprise a cow. It's about 3 feet from me when it sees me and has literally the most human reaction I've ever seen from an animal. The look on its face is like "Oh crap, it's a dude on a bike"
Mile 30 - The sun is shining and all is right with the world
Mile 40 - A young deer jumps on to the road about 6 feet from my bike. It runs forward a few paces and then suddenly catches sight of me behind it and is like "Oh crap, there's a guy on a bike right there". It then spazzes out completely, flailing its heels, which can't get any traction on the road, and does this adorable little thing where it goes almost down to a 70 degree angle before it catches up and runs away.
Mile 48 - I get to the caves. Everything is awesome. The caves are like on Goonies, except better. I have a taco salad for lunch. In retrospect this is like the last meal on the Titanic.
Mile 55 - I end up on the world's shortest ferry. The humidity is now set on "liquefy"
Mile 65 - A man in Cub Run tries to give me new directions. There is a 0% chance that this shortcut will improve my day. There is a 100% chance that they will find my body decomposing in the Kentucky backcountry. I stick to the map. The lady in the gas station says "It's a hot one"
Mile 72 - I ride up behind a horse pulling a buggy. I imagine some awesome old Amish guy living the good life. I pass the carriage on the left. Sitting in there is one single Walmart plastic lawn chair. In the chair is a 9 year old boy. As we pass each other, he stares right in my eyes. The unmistakable message conveyed from the depths of his soul is "Please get me out of here, why does my family not have a car"
Mile 75 - I have decided that the worst six words in the English language are "Unsigned turn on to Oak St."
Mile 80 - The route leader texts me and says there might be a storm coming. I look up and the cloud is literally staring me down. "Better get a move on, fresh meat". It looks like a drill sergeant. The humidity is now on "pressure cooker".
Mile 86 - My bike shorts are so old and see through that I am getting a tan on my butt.
Mile 95 - I pull into Sonora and slide up to the only store in town. The door says "Closed at 4". It is 4:36. She lets me in anyway and gives me a Diet Coke. I offer to marry her but she declines.
Mile 100 - I have ridden 100 miles.
Mile 105 - I pull my last Snickers out of my handlebar bag. It has completely liquified. Do I: A) Throw it away, because gross, who eats a liquid Snickers, B) Eat it because I am hungry, or C) Eat it, then seriously consider eating the wrapper because I can't quite get all the chocolate off it with my tongue
Mile 115 - I am out of water. The town of Madrid has no water. I face the cold specter of death. Out of the corner of my eye I spy a really old RC Cola machine outside an unused automotive shop. I walk up to it and it is humming gently. It won't take my dollar. I cry. Then I dig 2 quarters out of my handlebar bag and it gives me a Hawaiian Fruit Punch. I may live here now. It is literally nirvana.
Mile 115 - 132 - A complete blur. I suspect my brain is curled up in the corner of my skull whimpering gently.
Mile 133 - All is right with the world.
