More Day 7 Photos
With Sam and the rest of Team Will putting in an inordinate amount of time on a bike today (I know ... as though the previous eight days didn't include an inordinate amount of time on a bike), there won't be a Day 9 journal just yet. So, I'm going to post some additional photos of Shift 1 from Day 7:
John's Day 7 Journal: Brother Tony Joins the Fun
Sam’s Route: New Hartford, IL, to Findlay, IL
Tony’s Route: Assumption, IL, to Findlay, IL
Total Miles-Sam: 121.5 planned
Miles Sam Road: 104
Miles Tony Road: 16
To-Date Total-Sam: 730
Sum Total-Tony: 16
Weather: Beautiful; perfect, really; overcast; great tailwinds
Highlights
Shift 1 of Team Will rode up to where I had been waiting on the corner of a big farmhouse in Assumption, IL. They stopped to get off their bikes and let Mom and Dad park the van. After giving me a big hug, Sam introduced me to the rest of the team. They took drinks of water, some went to the van to grab quick munchies, and Sam did a quick assessment of my attire and bike to make sure I had everything I would need for our ride. Don, having already gotten his century (100 miles) in for the day, said he’d ride in the van the rest of the way. Before getting back on the bike, Brian said he’d ride in the van, too, because his other knee now giving him real trouble. So for my ride to Findlay, Jonathon, Mark, Ray, and Sam would help me—Poseur Extraordinaire—ride the easy Illinois country road east to Findlay.
Look, I know this is pathetic. To put things in scale for you, joining a team who is riding bicycles across the country for a 16-mile stretch is roughly equivalent to joining someone running a marathon for about eight strides of the race. By the time they reach D.C., most Team Will riders will have been on their bicycles for 1,000 miles. For 80 hours. And here I am, just having two weeks ago excavated the bicycle I bought from my college roommate over 20 years ago from somewhere deep in my garage, thinking it’d be some big deal for me to ride for an hour with them. It is pathetic. But for me it was a big deal if for no other reason than to be able to catch a glimpse of their experience.
When Sam told me he was planning, in his 50th year on the planet, to ride his bicycle across the United States, I knew he’d do it. In the past, he’d planned to run a marathon, planned to ride in a 100-mile bicycle race, planned to get an accounting degree, planned to marry a beautiful woman, planned to ride in a 200-mile bicycle race, planned to have wonderful children, planned to start his own business, etc., and he’d done all those things. No, the surprise would have been if Sam hadn’t ridden his bike across the country in his 50th circle around the sun.
And that’s the thing about Sam. If it were me, I’d be talking about these things with a sort of macho, I’m-cooler-than-you-and-the-rest-of-humanity braggadocio that no one could stop without slapping me in the face, and the slap would only create a pause so I could brag some more. (Case in point: I’m about to brag about my runner’s equivalent of eight-strides-in-a-marathon.) Sam, instead, does these things just because he thinks they’d be cool to do while living this life. Because they’d be fun. Because they’d be a challenge. Because they would be accomplishments. Because he thought that watching the sun rise over a Kansas wheat field would be a genuinely bitchin’ thing to experience. The last time I heard Sam mention that he’d completed the San Francisco Marathon was, oh, about the time Sam completed the San Francisco Marathon. To put things in scale for you, just yesterday I was bragging because we rode Seguays around San Francisco two weeks ago. (Though to be fair, Sam does brag in every holiday letter about being married to that beautiful woman and having those wonderful kids.)
When we set out from Assumption, Mark took the lead, Jonathan was next, poseur boy third, Sam behind me, and Ray pulling the back while the van, with flashing lights, drove behind us. Sam was coaching me—“stay close to Jonathon,” “ride in a straight line”—while we took things slowly at first (slowly, as in 17-18 mph.) “Okay, speed things up,” Sam yelled to the rest of the team when he's confident I’m not going to bring the bike train to a halt with a spectacular crash. The rest of the group gives Sam hell for barking orders. “He’s been this way the whole ride,” Ray jokes. “He’s impossible to ride with.” Mark picks up the pace and pretty soon we’re all hitting 24-25 mph.
The interaction between riders is
casual, light, fun. I hear Mark and Jonathon talking
ahead of me, apparently continuing a conversation
that had probably begun much earlier in the ride,
maybe in Nevada. Ray’s jabbering with Sam, Sam’s
giving me the occasional correction. The pace is
brisk, no doubt, and I’m actually not slowing the
group down. Jonathan asks how I’m doing and I tell
him that as long as I’m able to answer his questions
that I’m okay. “When I stop talking, I’ll be too busy
breathing,” I tell him. Jonathon says, “It’s when
I’m not breathing that I worry about. Like
in the Rockies.”
Mark pulls the team for much of the first part of the
ride. With the tailwinds helping us along—“This is
the easiest century I’ve ever ridden,” Sam says
later, crediting the tailwinds—Mark keeps a good pace
without quickly tiring out. As Mark finally falls
back and Jonathan moves to draft the group from the
lead, I hesitantly (but with all the confidence I can
muster) tell Jonathan that I’d be willing to lead
when it’s my turn. “Just don’t give me a hill to
climb,” I request. I should have known something was
up when Jonathan didn’t respond.
Earlier in the day, I drove along this route in my
car to try to get a feel for what I was getting
myself into. Alone in the car I thought the stretch
seemed a long one to ride on a bike, almost
intimidatingly so for someone who’s spent all
post-college years mastering the art of a
non-physical, sedentary lifestyle. This stretch had
more hills than I had anticipated by looking at
MapQuest. In the car, I’d mark the miles in my head
using the Imperial Valley Odometer I developed as a
kid—“okay, this is El Centro to Imperial (three
miles); the rest of the ride is Imperial to the other
side of Brawley (12 miles)”—and I have to admit I was
starting to doubt if I could really do the ride with
a team of real riders who had ridden 700 miles to get
here.
Assumption, IL, to Findlay, IL; A Whole 16
Miles
But here I was. We’re more than
halfway between the equivalent of
El-Centro-to-Brawley when Jonathan peels off from the
lead and gives me drafting duties. “Whoa, here goes,”
I think. In front of me, a nice long downhill, some
flatland, and a very un-nice long uphill. That's the
biggest hill on this stretch, I remember from my
earlier scouting. I remind myself that after we get
up the hill that we’ll have roughly an
El-Centro-to-Imperial distance to Findlay, where
we’ll meet up with Shift 2 for the handoff. As we
easily descend the downhill, I’m trying to figure out
how to peel off the lead before the uphill begins
without looking like too much of a whimp. The real
riders give me votes of confidence as I draft them
through the downhill and flatland at fun speeds,
though, so I decide to take a crack at the uphill.
When the climb begins, our 24-25 mph pace becomes
19-20 mph, but I’m still doing okay. About halfway up
the hill I realize there’s no more answering
questions as my breathing is taking priority over
talking. Still maintaining about 20 mph, my legs are
feeling heavy and wobbly at the same time. Sam says,
comfortingly, “Tony, don’t worry … we all struggle
through these.” Knowing I can’t keep up the pace and
fearing that I’ll slow the team down too much, I
decide about three-quarters of the way up the hill to
peel off the lead. As I fall back, the real riders
give me “attaboy”s and “way-to-go”s as they pass me.
These guys are like that.
By the time we’re over the hill Jonathan, Mark, and
Ray are about 25 yards ahead with Sam falling back
with me. Sam kindly drafts for me at a leisurely 20
mph pace so I can catch my breath before we pick it
up again. By the time we hit Findlay and roll in for
the handoff, we’re about a 30 seconds behind the
other three, which is much less of a drag than the
20-30 minutes Sam had feared my participation would
create. So while I wasn’t able to get the team up the
entire hill, I didn’t bring the team to a complete
halt, either. I have that going for me.
Mark and Tony, After the Day 7
Ride
I made it, a full hour's ride with
a team of real riders. To a man, Shift 1 seemed very
cool about having me along. Instead of making feel
like the amateur rider I am, they welcomed me into
their group for the equivalent of
eight-marathon-strides and made the experience a good
one. Once off our bikes at the middle school parking
lot in Findlay, the team put the bikes on the van,
enjoyed a beverage, posed for pictures, chatted up
Shift 2—who had just arrived from a hospital
visit—and handed them the flag. Shift 2 then took off
from Findlay to carry the flag to the next
destination and to Shift 3, who this morning passed
the flag back to our Shift 1 at the Indiana-Ohio
border. This pace will continue for two more days.
After our bike ride yesterday, Sam rode with me in
the car from Findlay, freeing up a little space in
the van for the other riders for a short while. We
fueled up in Findlay, went to a bar-b-que thrown by
ride organizers in Charlseton, IL, then drove to
Indianapolis. Sam and I talked during the ride about
his experiences so far—“It’s amazing what your body
can do when ask it. I’ve ridden the equivalent of
seven centuries in seven days.”—and he downloaded
pictures to my computer. Sam explained that after a
typical day’s ride he’ll take a quick nap in the van,
write his day's journal entry for the blog, and make
at least a couple phone calls before rolling into
their hotel. At the hotel, assuming the Internet
connection is good, he'll send me his journal entry
and some pictures for the blog, quickly check his
e-mail, and get as much sleep as he can.
After 16 miles on a bike and a slew of miles in the
car, I was totally exhausted when I got home near
Chicago at 11:00 last night. One day, 16 miles by
bike, hundreds of miles by car, and I was wiped.
Unlike Shift 1 of Team Will, though, I woke up in my
own bed this morning and didn’t get back up on my
bike. If yesterday was indeed an easy ride, I wish
for nothing but tailwinds for Team Will for the
remainder of the ride. All thanks to Shift 1 for
letting me get a glimpse into their Herculean
experience.
Day 7 Photos
Shift 1 Arriving in Assumption, IL
Mark, Jonathan, and Ray Getting Tony Up to Speed
Sam and Tony, Arriving in Findlay, IL
Team Will, Shift 1 Plus 1, Day 7