September 14th

Today we slept in late enough for the sun to wake us up. I laid in bed for a moment and thanked God for the absence of the soreness that came as a result of laying on frozen ground thus creating dead spots on your spine, hips, and shoulders.

I used to think I was good at blogging... good at writing... but that was shortly after college. It's amazing, truly amazing- just how much writing is a practiced skill. I had to write every day from the age of 6 through 21 then... then I just started talking and I talked a lot. I was a convert: collegiate graphic artistic gone salesperson. No more written manifestos, theses, or colloquiums... just talking... or so I thought.

Long story short, a story I'll probably tell you later, after 3 years of selling I learned that two ears can get you a lot further than one mouth. So I started shutting up, I started listening. It's actually rather fascinating: the realization that the best conversationalists and most successful people spend more time listening than they do talking single-highhandedly brought me through my second conversion: over a period of three years I morphed from the enthusiastic, outspoken, Entertainer to the inquisitive, even skeptical, Detective. One thing sales taught me is how much I didn't know. It proved to me that while I was naturally a connector there was still 75% of any given population I wasn't connecting with and I wanted to know why. I wanted to understand people's reactions. I wanted to understand people's reasoning. I had learned the how to and now I needed the "WHY" behind it.

I'm digressing. Most of the latter is a foreshadow of what's the come as you read ahead (more importantly as I continue to scribble words for you to read) but the point is, it's been a very long time since I've composed thoughts, a train of concise flowing thoughts, down on anything other than a few paragraphs in an email. I need to develop this habit. I'm developing myself as a keynote speaker and one thing I think we can all agree on is the need for a keynote presenter to be able to deliver concise, deliberate and obvious thoughts to their audience with key takeaways. Got to start somewhere, right?

Have you ever done this before? Started writing something that your brain didn't let you finish? There are entirely too many moments that I've begun to put great ideas to paper but because I couldn't find the perfect way to articulate my message I either A) threw them all away or B) hid them from your eyes because they weren't perfect. Well no more! You get the dirty, gritty, crunchy crust of all of it. I'm going to give you my thoughts, my ideas, my insight, my perspective, my observations, my "ah-ha's" and the best of my takeaways. It won't be pretty but it will be pretty hilarious :) And educational, definitely educational. Enjoy.

Strange Strangers

September 16th, 2011

Brunswick park: full undercarriage support.

I think Steve was starting to think we'd never make it out of Maine, let alone Brunswick, or even Helen's home. After spending three full days with this wonderful woman, and being stuffed silly with rainbow variety sherbert it was time to hit the road and continue our trek down south. Other than "in the general direction of Miami", we had no idea where we were headed. We hopped on our bikes and booked it down hwy 1. We shot through Freeport and past the L.L. Bean Headquarters (I got a little soggy eyed when I saw the outlet malls and dozens of signs for Starbucks- oh how I missed these little luxuries), managed to dead-end at I-295 in Portland, adding hours and miles to our day, but eventually, about 49 miles later we found ourselves in front of a big blue house in an itty-bitty corner called "Waterboro".

I always got so nervous around the 4 O'clock hour. I had 3 simple responsabilities: 1. pedal and stay upright. 2. Don't die. 3. Find a place for us all to lay our heads each night. (And it was the third that concerned me the most.)

I hated picking the homes, I made Adam and Steve do that, the less I had to think about it- the better. God knows I wasn't afraid to knock on doors... it was just the last thing I wanted to after burning up every enzyme in my body (i.e. open myself up to rejection). But I liked this house, it had a big ol' yard and the home was large enough to provide a some distance and protection from the highway.

I started waving with big swoops from my arm just in case the residents were watching as I biked up their driveway (when you appear homeless it's also best you appear harmless). I skooched off my bike and skipped to the back door. The screen door shook as I pounded on its hinges. I heard the interior door to the home open to the sitting porch. Even though I couldn't see who I was speaking to I proclaimed, "Hi!". I didn't hear a response so I quickly spewed out the details as to why three randos were standing at on the lawn, "...all we really need is a place to plop shop and set up camp for the night..." *cue crickets* There was a glare from the sun setting and I couldn't see through the screen, and I was definitely frustrated because they weren't responding! So I said, "I'm sorry I can't see you, I have no idea who I'm talking to" (ha... either did she).

"Oh, you can open the screen", Paula said sweetly and as I stepped on to the porch I quickly realized I was in the midst of a quiet, heavy-set women just beaming with the traits of a good Samaritan. She offered up any spot we'd like in her back yard, and when I asked about a bathroom... this was the odd part- she said there was a coffee shop just a bit down the road ("mmmmm coffee") OR we could make use of their largest lawn ornament: an old Astro Van that had a toilet installed at the back of it like a port-o-potty. Heck, it sounded better than squatting!

Within about 20 minutes of setting up camp and changing out of the day's bicycle spandex the sun had tucked behind the trees and the sky had completely clouded over. The three of us were pow-wow around our mini camping stove waiting for the water to boil when a truck rolled up. I saw it was a man and shouted "Hello!" from about 30 feet away, he quietly responded "hello". I couldn't really make out the man's face enough to tell if he was older or younger than Paula, his face was so badly scarred so I asked, "you must be family?" He quietly replied, "yes". That didn't get me what I was looking for so I asked again, "husband or son?"

"Son" he answered, and I realized my lack of being able to distinguish this fact might have offended most, but oh well and oops! So I proceeded to explain why the heck there were three scouts in his backyard. He didn't respond with too much excitement and wished us a warm night as he retrieved supplies and tools out of the back of his pickup truck. As he took one step toward the house he quickly pivotted back to our direction almost as if he forgot something and asked, "Would any of you like an iced coffee?".

Without a moment to lose I sprang to my feet! God had answered my prayers! "SURE!". I instantly teleported across the 30 feet and as I reached him I introduced myself, "My name is Gena by the way, what's yours?" He told me his name was Conrad and I asked if I should follow him inside...

The best worst day ever

I huffed and I puffed and I found a convenience store small enough to have a makeshift bathroom installed into one of their closets.

Instant relief!!!

Ahhhhhh the "annoyance" was as least 82% better and I strolled outside the door to see the boys riding up to me. "Feel better Gene?" Adam shouted.

"Like you wouldn't believe! Let's get out of here". 70 miles down and 60 to go. I couldn't close my eye, every time my lid hit the spot on my eye the inflammation got worse, so I let the wind have it's way with cyclops.

We were about 10 miles out of what I guess we'll call "that town", and we were riding at a strong pace when a loud explosion went off beneath my bicycle seat. Startled, I stopped immediately and looked down the road in hopes to find the item that set off said reaction. I followed the yellow line on the shoulder closer and closer to my bicycle right up to my tire and there it was... bye bye tire. I can't even imagine how it happened. Somehow the tube INSIDE my tire erupted and blew a hole THROUGH my tire. We only had one tire casing and fortunately it was mine (yes, my father packed it), there was also only one tube left. So I raced like Nascar to flip that bitch so we could get rubber to the road and back on our way again to Saint Marys, GA... only another 50 miles.

We fled like banshees to make up for lost time. The sky was starting to burn, the sun was setting and the horizon's edge was turning to amber. It must have been about 7 O'clock right then and my phone started to ring. I reached into my fanny pack (yes, if by now you didn't realize I was wearing a fanny pack... you should have. Because it was awesome. And yes, sometimes I wore it to the bars. Because I could) and pulled my phone out. It was Brian Ross, a connection from a friend in Denver, friends with the Brian from last night that helped us get our day off to such a fast start, and our "host dad" tomorrow night in Jacksonville, FL. "Gena! How's it going!" I couldn't do anything but burst out laughing knowing good karma had to be waiting for us around the corner. However, we'd have to wait a few corners, because this corner let out a hisssssss. We were maybe 15 miles beyond the tire blowout and I thought... SNAKE! Firecracker! ah! Steve shouted from behind me, "GENA. PULL OVER". What now...

I rode to the side, unclipped from my bike and looked down to see a Nine Inch Nail... no just kidding, it was only a 2 inch nail piercing through my tire... twice. Yes. My brand new tire now had breathing holes and our last tube was shot. "SSSSSSHIIIIIIIIT!!!!!!"

Steve told me to calm down, which was actually very hard to do while standing in a swarm of evening mosquitos. I google mapped for a bike shop but nothing was nearby and they were all closed anyway. Should we thumb a ride? At first I didn't know what to do, I stood there in a daze just thinking, "really?? today of all days...". But then instinct and common sense kicked it. We still had the back-up. Thank God for Derek and the Bunny Hop Bicycle shop 800 miles back. Our "host dad" and BMX guru, Derek, 11 homes back in Richmond, VA made us keep a tube with a small leak, "you never know when you'll be in a pinch with no access to a fresh tube. Just keep it, this will be an easy one to patch" Thank you Derek.

30 minutes later we were back at it, the sky was fading back to blue and gray by this point. Traffic was getting heavy too as we were edging further into another community. There were a lot of corners to take and street signs to watch for, but I let the boys take the lead on this one. In hindsight... looking back... no, looking up at Adam from a tangled mess of aluminum, bent handle bars, and blood on my knuckles made me wish I hadn't been the one following. See we must have taken a wrong turn, but without a map or the ability to read Adam's mind there would be no way for me to know this unless one of the guys shouted back or signaled "turning". Which of course they didn't, thus why I was tangled in aluminum (I'd ran into Steve's trailer tire as he turned right. Since I was riding on Steve's right and his bike discontinued forward motion it was basically an obstacle just waiting to be hit). I looked up at them with disgust. Severe disappointment. I was in the smack dab middle of the lane and a car was heading straight for me, but I didn't want to get up until they could both see how extremely PISSED OFF I was! Argh!

I scraped myself up and drug my bike to the corner and very quietly and full of contempt said, "next time you turn... make sure you signal". Adam burst out laughing! "You so want to kill us right now don't you?! You are so angry. You know you owe Steve and I a shot right? Your hands are bleeding." I could hardly contain myself... I wanted to be mad so bad! but I couldn't keep from smiling, "You idiot, let's get outta here".

Starting the Day that'd Never End

9:15 am- After passing down Victory for a few miles through the historical mansions and moss covered oak trees Savannah and the "Secret Garden" are famous for, we jetted into the industrial segment of this society and more importantly- breakfast. No day would be complete without a balanced breakfast- so no deal shopping at 7-Eleven, no, we chose Burger King. 8 blueberry muffins and 4 cinnamon rolls later we filled up our koozies and drenched them with cherry gatorade powder... It was 10:00 am and we were still struggling to begin the day we wouldn't be able to end.

But alas, there comes a time when you've gotta clench your butt-cheeks and buck up buttercup. And we were off. The ride started off normal as most days do, especially the bad ones, but after about 20 miles of riding I began experiencing a rather bothersome itching that I'll refer to as chaffing. 5 miles later we'll pulled off to look at our maps and refill our water. I jumped off my bike and stormed into the bathroom. I walked out awkwardly after having been indoors for longer than what Adam or Steve would consider normal... Adam called me out, "Yo Gene, you okay??" My waddle may have given me away. I whipped around and stared at him, almost shaking. I couldn't stand myself, my skin was crawling and the pain had grown from annoying to agonizing. Adam knew I wasn't playing around and we decided that the next large station or grocery store we saw, we'd be pulling over, "Unless... Gene, wanna see if the second-hand store across the street has a tube of vagasil?" Idiotic comments like these throughout the trip helped me to keep my perspective, reality, and sanity. Thank God for the Adam Berriers of the world.

Time seemed to lapse for hours, but we'd only since covered a couple miles since the last stop. My body was inconsolable, I couldn't sit right, I couldn't stand right... but we had 105 miles to go. Standing however was more comfortable and for the next 5 miles I rode my road bike like I was ready to pop a wheelie.

Then suddenly through a clearing I noticed after a scattering of homes a large rectangular shaped building which had to be one of two things out here in the middle of knowhere-Darien-Georgia 1) A dollar General or 2) a grocery store. I squealed with joy- heaven seemed to be reigning down it's blessing on me as I came to realize I was approaching a Piggly Wiggly... instead, Heaven seemed to be raining down a different sort of something, right into my eye. I screamed. I'd literally watched a speck,  a sliver float down from a giant oak tree and slip right beneath my Oakley's, and into my left eye.

"@#$%!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

This was it. My camel's back was broken. I literally kept a running pace as I threw my bike to the ground and screamed for Adam and Steve (let's just clarify that I was being a big baby... but I can look back on this day and still say I've never been more uncomfortable in my life). They turned around with smurks on their faces. I screamed again, "Get over here and dump my water bottle in my eye!"
"What happened?!", they had no idea.

"Something just flew into my eye! or it bit me! or stung me! Get it out!!!"

Steve could see nothing and we flushed my eye with the san-gatorade water bottle. It didn't help. So I marched off to Piggly Wiggly.

I couldn't see very well as my tear ducts were welling up, but I could tell as soon as I walked into the foyer I was standing in front of multiple lines of people. With a soaked face I asked the attendant where the bathroom was. She said it's out of service. I told her it was an emergency. She said it was out of service. I asked where she went to the bathroom. She said try the Goodwill next door. So I huffed and I puffed... and I stormed over to the hygiene aisle. I stared at the reflection of my eye in a Goodie-brand mirror. There was nothing there, just a small flat puff right on my eyeball. grrrrr... so I went to search for what had been my main priority 15 minutes ago. ointment.

7 long minutes later I found myself handing a container of "ointment" to a young adolescent cashier standing behind the counter, it was when the tube passed to his hand I realized, "this sucks". See, moments earlier he'd watched me walk into his store crying and begging for a bathroom. I now realized just how ironic this uncomfortable and embarrassing situation truly was as he scanned my tube of saving grace. I took solace in the fact that I'd never see the clerk again and yelled to Steve and Adam that they'd find me at the next gas station.

The morning that came to late...

8:45 am, October 27th and the pounding in my head was clouded by massive sleep deprivation. Last night would be approximately 793 times more fun than the next 14 hours... not really a great way to wake up to your second century day, not to mention our longest yet- 105 miles. I woke up next to a forest of Victoria Secret models in Savannah, GA. Yes you read that right- our fabulous host mother had decorated the wall I was sleeping next to, her son Ross' wall with an enormous magazine like photograph of a babbling brook that covered the entire 7x12 foot canvas, and she adorned the currents, rocks, weeds, and trees with Victoria Swimsuit models. Awesome, not something I'd do for my son, but awesome. The scaling was quite realistic.

I scraped myself out of bed and took a cold shower, all the lights were off in the home so that meant I hadn't actually overslept by 2 hours and 15 minutes... not if Steve and Adam weren't awake. Once I'd cleaned up a bit and caught more of an awareness of the pounding against my brain, I bundled my  gear and moped into the living room where my four friends were sleeping on one couch. I had to laugh. Only 5 southwestern alumni from NY, ND, SD, IL, and WI would end up in a city like Savannah at random. "We were supposed to wake up at 6:30 right" I stated.

"Shit what time is it?", Adam popped up.

"Close to 9:00" I replied

"Best be on our way", Steve agreed. However we all wondered if it'd be possible. This was an incredibly late start for us and we need to tackle our biggest trek yet. Well yeah it's possible, we'd just have to do some night riding and I knew there's no way it could be worse than the night we barely made it through Yonkers/ New York City. We just needed to gauge the milage to get an idea of what time exactly we'd be arriving at our next host family's home in St Mary's, GA.

Bakken whipped out his iPad. "Uh guys?"

"Yeah how far"

"well it looks like you've got a big day ahead of you"

"What the hell does that mean?"

Steve, Adam, and I stared at Google Maps...

ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY MILES?!

Are you, what! I mean is that, c'mon man! Who's the idiot that calculated this one??! I burst out laughing. Seriously you've got to be kidding me man. Dammit. Well here's the deal- we have to be in Jacksonville by tomorrow, that's 170 miles. Why not just be insane today and lolly-gag into FL Friday afternoon? Hm... because that's crazy. So we tapped into our resources, Bakken knew of a woman only 90 miles away and gave us a few numbers of people we could call to get in touch with her. Apparently when he'd sold in that part of Georgia, he had teammates stay with this woman.

Regardless of what we would choose to do... we needed to move it. So we packed up, tied down, clipped in, and began peddling into the day that would never end.

House 103

"Hey guys, I think this is it", I slowed down as I saw the numbers decreasing... 161, 149, 137, 125, one-oh... three. I looked to my left and growing out of a courtyard of foliage stood Helen's home: full of beds, sherbet ice cream, electrical outlets, spaghetti, stale cereal, and hot running water.

After a much needed scrub and a changing into a pair of shorts that didn't have 1/4 inch of padding in the crotch, I exposed my gnarly spandex tan line and I met the boys and Helen downstairs for dinner. One spoonful in and I swear I saw a tear squeak from the crevasse of Steve's eye. It was. the best. meal of my life. Note: I'd been eating tree bark and slurping on flavored water for the past 3 days so anything would appear to be a feast and in comparison taste like spiced lamb shanks, and yes it was so so enjoyed. Helen even indulged us in wine!

After dinner was over we sat and reflected in a pool of our newfound obesity listening to Helen talk about her college summers counseling at the all-girls camp, the prestige of Bowdoin College, the catholic church, cats, poverty and education for about two hours... we could tell she enjoyed having us; she was an amazing thoughtful and giving woman that was quick to volunteer to the needs of her community and she definitely kept herself busy with said activities... however I couldn't help but wonder how lonely that'd be to spend 50-some years all on your lonesome... but when conversation left the space for my lungs to yawn instead of just my head nodding, and I was able to time my dismissal from dinner and march upstairs with the boys for a slumber amidst coils and springs. Heaven.

First things first... gotta stretch the quads... check out that face... and that tan-line