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Today marked day 36 of our ride meaning we have 10 rides left before reaching the coast of Portland, Maine on October 6. It’s somewhat hard to believe that we have come this far. We still have hard days ahead, but we are all mindful that they are no harder than the days we’ve ridden thus far, and we feel that much stronger today than we did 36 days ago.
Someone asked me my least favorite part of this ride, and I couldn’t think of anything that I didn’t like… with one exception. I find the end of every ride somewhat difficult. Depending on the day, sometimes it’s the last 30 miles, sometimes the last 20 and sometimes the last 10 or even 5. I find that counting down rather than counting up is better on the mind. I’ve referred to this in other posts. What I realized today is that we are at that point where we are counting down the days – not up. I continue to count how many days we’ve ridden, but I’m far more focused on how many days we have left.
What we will do, how we will feel, what is next – all these thoughts have crossed our minds and been discussed. I will not miss powdered eggs or microwaved frozen omelets in a hotel, but I will miss the daily routine of seeing those with whom I’m fortunate enough to ride every day.
I will miss Bob being at breakfast already in the morning and joining him for our discussion regarding how we rested the night before or what’s on tap for the ride that day. I will miss Myrna usually being the next to join us for the conversation. I will miss both of them being ready by their bikes outside with helmets on at least 15 to 30 minutes before we are set to ride usually setting me in a tailspin because I’m not yet ready and begin to feel as though I’m behind – but I’m not. They are early. I will miss riding with Ken and his quiet place in the pace line. Ken isn’t a talker during our rides. He does, however, answer when I ask him questions about his butt and recovering from saddle sores. I will miss Caroline and her white flowing headpiece she wears under her helmet making her look like the flying nun, hence the name Mother Superior. I will miss morning and evening check-ins with Robin. If she hasn’t ridden with us, we talk about the ride. If she is riding with us, we talk about family. She, Ken and Myrna started a morning hug routine early on. It’s waning somewhat, but it was always helpful to have someone to hug while on this trip. I will miss the banter while we ride. I will miss the swearing that comes along with the scenarios in which we find ourselves en route. I will miss the end of day arrival at the hotels and celebrating with a recovery shake, an Athletic NA beer, and bag of Lays plain potato chips. I will miss having a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in my back pocket for noshing on every ten miles. I will miss the varying flavors of my electrolyte powder packets. I will miss our entertaining route talks by our guides and the times we have the opportunity to ride with them and get to know them better. I will miss the yummy lunches (who knew a bowl of tomato soup and grilled cheese could be SO good!). I will miss feeling stronger every day and having an 87-mile ride feel easy and like a cakewalk. I will miss encouraging ourselves up steep climbs, or long climbs, or any climbs at all! I will miss it all.
But I will take away with me the memories we have made, and the memories left to make in the next ten days. While I will be counting down the days to be out of the bubble and back into my regular everyday life, I will enter that world changed by this experience and, for that, I am eternally grateful.