Worst of Times, Best of Times

I was in charge of writing the journal from yesterday's ride. I'm just going to post this for today.

Saturday, June 28^th, 2008

I want to begin this letter with a dedication to the parents of NUS ’08 riders. Every day I consider myself so blessed to be a part of this amazing group of people. Thank you for allowing them to be a part of this trip and a part of my life. This experience would not be the same were it not for everyone’s personality, insight, excitement, humor and attitude. All these characteristics help to make the worst days the best ones. Today was one of those days.

Imagine, if you will, mountains. Imagine riding over them, on your bike. Now imagine 60 miles' worth of this activity. Unfortunately, even the most creative minds cannot fathom the intensity of such a ride. Your impressions of riding over mountains are inadequate. It’s like Socrates’ Allegory of the Cave. You can’t explain sunlight and real images to the cave-dwellers; much like you cannot recreate the pain and suffering of riding biking over (not through) the Adirondacks.

Unfortunately for the group, riding 60 miles of mountainous road was just the beginning. Around 2 pm, the most torrential downpour I have ever witnessed hit this earth. I was one of three people who did not get caught in this rain. The other 90 percent of the riders were still on the road looking for the campsite, or, if you were Arianna, Zach, Anson, Quang, or Jessie, just leaving lunch. Aside from riding 4 hours and 25 miles in such weather (and it rained the entire time), Anson was deliriously sick, Zach had 5 flats, and Quang was bandaged up more than a mummy (having suffered an injury the day before).

Can I just reiterate that everyone was riding up mountains in torrential downpour?

Another serious issue was a typo on the que sheets. Que sheets are basically direction sheets every rider carries with them on the road. The campsite we were planning to stay at could be reached by a country road turnoff before the town. When Kristen, Laura, and I reached the turnoff, we decided to go straight to town and relax as we preceded even the van. Those who made the turnoff (i.e. everyone else) were distressed to discover the directions were wrong (it was a right, not a left). The road dead-ended four miles later, about an hour’s worth of detouring for everyone involved.

When Ian, Penn, Dae, Kevin, Derrick, and Dan arrived in town around 3, we all went out to eat. At this point we still thought we were staying in tents that evening. Dan had the glorious idea to ask the local churches if we could stay in their basements. So after the meal we hit up the parishes. I say the word ‘parishes’ because both would not allow the boys and girls to sleep in the same building. Seriously? And this coming the night after Kate and Dae had been paired to room together at the resort at Silver Bay (Zach and I had also been paired together, but they thought we were married).

When everyone finally gathered at the Baptist Church around 6:30, the stories came out. Back around mile 15, John R. missed a turn and wound up riding 8 miles in the wrong direction. Isaiah, several hundred meters back, took off after him but failed to catch up as John was headed downhill. Both odometers read 75 miles by the end of the day (just as a point of reference, mine read 56). When John P. returned after the wrong turn on the que sheet, he took off in a huff ahead of Bobby and others. When something came off his bike and he had to turn around through the pouring rain and pick it up, he screamed, “Agh! I can’t even throw a tantrum correctly!” Ian walked into the convenience store and was invited to go mud sliding by a group of drunken locals. Back before lunch, Reed saw a sign for “Snowmobiling and Horseback Riding.” Jumping at his chance to hop on a horse, he stopped and rode around a mare named Freckles for a half hour and in the process brought a whole new meaning to the term “saddle sores.” The quote of the day came from Penn: “This rain is really doing a number on my Chuck E. Cheese’s stickers.”

Later in the evening the girls went off to the Methodist Church 4 blocks down the road. As I left, I recall seeing Isaiah conked out on the floor and Quang walking around in a purple towel draped like a toga. I hear some Britney Spears music was broken out after all the girls left. I know Kevin was leading that karaoke party.

Overall, the ride was awful. I must have gone through every expletive in my repertoire in making those climbs. But just the thought of Quang riding injured or Anson riding sick though those same hills hours later (and turns out their weather was infinitely worse than mine) was inspiration enough to get me through.

And despite being the worst day on record, I didn’t hear a single word of complaint from the riders. Instead, I just heard laughter.