LOST!

A tattered moleskine was found on the side of route 36 near bicycle tracks that lead off into a corn field, the last known location of Bill...

Late Friday - Ran around with the family but all I could think about was the upcoming bike ride. goFast showed me the route and even pointed out a good place to shave off some miles (if I was a little girl, goFast doesn't know I can read minds). Seems simple enough, turn LEFT at the rock quarry instead of right, take the first right and hang a left at the... I'll figure it out. goFast calls this route 'the dumbbell' because if you do it right the map will look like one when you're done. Twenty-four miles is a lot for me - I hope I can do it. I made sure the pressure was good in the tires and everything was ready (coffee, Clif bar, camera).

Sat, 5:07am - Well OK, I should have thought that through - it's perfectly fine for riding three miles into work but WAY too dark for this sort of thing. I don't care how covered in blinkies I am I'm far too skittish about riding down some country road in the wee hours. I'm glad I bought that bright reflective Trek windbreaker though, it's really light weight and it works, a good thing since it's 57 outside.

Sat, 6:30am - FINALLY I'm on the road! The initial burn of the thighs, the cool morning temp as muscles start to warm up. I work my way into farm country where a slight fog covers the fields.

Sat, sometime - I get to the quarry and stop for breakfast. This is where I turn left into uncharted territory. I munch on my Clif bar, drink water and watch serious dump trucks leave the quarry. I make a mental note to try and get to my turn in a hurry, they're going the way I'm headed.

I head down the road without getting passed by some huge truck. I imagine the Clif bar already rejuvenating me and I kind of wish I had packed another one. I make my right and pass fields and some nice homes. I idly wonder what it's like living so near a quarry.

click-click-click

goFast thinks the noise is from a tight link in my chain. He has some sort of tool to deal with it, as I watch the chain go over the big ring I think he's right, I'll have to borrow it. As I descend some minor hill I hear it for just the tiniest of moments, goFast described it as the sound a rope makes when you whirl it over your head only throatier, he couldn't quite describe it. I've heard it, maybe if I get a helmet with more holes in it I'll hear it again... I want to, I don't know why.

Sat, later - I wrote the above as I ponder what to do. I'm at the junction of some road called Hinton Mill, it feels too early to cut over and the turn isn't sharp like I remember it from goFast's map - I want to do the full twenty four miles. It's shaded and nice here and seems to be some sort of bike central junction. I'm watching a guy and two girls pedal towards me, the dude in the lead, proud of his girl gaggle. The middle girl is bellowing, "Turn right, TURN RIGHT!"

I'm wondering if that's some sort of omen when they pause, "You need help?"

I'm staring at an iPhone trying to use its GPS function since my little bike GPS assumes I know where I'm going. It's placed me at the GPS equivalent of Cleveland in effect telling me, "You're on your own." I'm suddenly shy but babble out something about if they know a road further up that will take me back to Watson which will take me back to the quarry.

Nope. I suspect everyone out here has their own route they follow and that's that. They move on saying another group is coming down the road they're turning right on. I watch this group, all serious, just blow by. One guy stays turning easy circles so he doesn't have to take he's feet out of his cleats but can't help me.

No biggie. Part of the fun is just getting out there and seeing. I decide to move on but I'm growing increasingly aware of the time. I'm no speed racer generally averaging around 12-13mph and we have a full day ahead of us, a water park, an evening cookout with friends. I'm compelled, but I need to be home by 9:30, I should be able to do that and still get the 24 in.

I pedal through a quaint little town figuring my turn is just on the other side. I approach a significant intersection labeled Route 36 (I get my kicks on route thirty-six). I figure this has to be the road, it's probably just some local name. I head down it.

A ways down and I'm feeling the edge of a bonk and the odometer along with my back are telling me I've been sixteen miles. If I turn back now I'll log 32 miles. I've missed a turn...

I'M LOST!!!

I'm NOT a fan of this road. I call my wife informing her of my problem as too many cars whiz past. I decide to turn back.

Bill's Farthest Point

As I head back I cross a creek and smile ruefully at the sign where I should have turned.

click-click-click

OK, that sound is starting to annoy me - great - I only have about another hour or so.

I decide to go the regular route home. I'm feeling a bonk coming on coupled with endorphins. I really need to pack more Clif bars.

click-click-click

I'm giddy with endorphins. I want to go further but can't because of the time. Obligations. Maybe next week. It's a feeling I can't describe, I'm lost to it. I want more. I want fifty, nah let's make it fifty one.

click-click-click

I'm moving around on the saddle, feeling the bonk nibbling at the edges.

click-click-click

I'll tell you where the missile bases are if you JUST STOP CLICKING!

Thirty one miles, thirty one miles. I want to see more, ride further, feel what I'm feeling now, the edge of exhaustion, the need to go on, I know it's the endorphins but I also know I can do fifty.

click-click-click

1919 calories babbles the Garmin, I grin, I need to get that chain addressed, I miss the quiet. I know I could drop by goFast's and get it done if he's there but I wont.

click-click-click

There's a feeling coming in from this ride that I can't express, call it accomplishment, the long unconscious self examination and growing awareness as I near my home, my family; all of it entwined.

I'm lost.