Holy crap, I'm updating this thing!

After what seems like an eternity on the exceedingly hilly, windy, and green bordered US-29, I'm finally getting very close to the Arlington and DC area. Unfortunately, it looks like the weather might be crap while I'm there, so that sucks a lot. Seems to happen that way a lot, whenever I get somewhere I really want to explore and see up close. Oh well, fingers crossed on that one, as I'd really like to visit the National Cemetery and, of course, the whole Capitol Mall area.

As for the Tour in general, it has been pretty rough riding lately. Endless hills here on the long stretches of the "Piedmont" of the Appalachian mountains. It has been exceedingly hot and humid for the past month or so, and the winds have not been following their seasonal paths, leading to my feeling like someone has a high powered blow dryer in my face most of the time. Still, I've continued to meet a lot of really good people who have helped me out in a lot of ways, which has always been one of the few things that always boosts my mood.

I had to replace my rear rim in Greenville, SC. The hub and spokes were still just fine, but the rim had seen too many potholes, pavement seams, expansion joints, etc. My kicking the bike over a few times over the Tour probably didn't help, either, heh. Anyway, got a good deal on a new version of the same Mavic Open Pro 700c rim, so that was cool. Still feels like I've been spending money like it's going out of style lately. Oh well. I'm less than 2 months from the end of the riding portion of the tour, so I have that to look forward to! I'm thinking of looking for a quick and dirty p/t job of some kind in Boston, as I'll be there for a month, and I'll have a lot of otherwise "free" time to myself, while my friend there is at work and not available to be my tour guide to the city, ha. I'm by not quite "broke," but knowing me and my work ethic, my time in the city will feel much more productive to me, even if I'm only able to earn just enough to cover my travel expenses of Amtraking back to Cali.

From here it looks like: DC, to Philly, Jersey, NYC, Connecticut coast, Providence RI, central Mass, then Vermont, New Hampshire, way the hell up into NE Maine, then back down the coast to Boston, hopefully finishing in late July or sooner. I'm starting to have mixed feelings about being "done" soon, but I'm still mostly stoked for that. Envisioning my rolling into the park where I plan to "finish" is a great motivator, and something I think about a lot as I drift off to sleep in all these random places.

In the mean time, I'm trying to stay focused and motivated through all the weather challenges that seem to be the central bane of my existence while on Tour. People seem continuously surprised when I tell them how jaded I feel about the Tour, and how much I long to be done with it. Yes, I tell them, I will miss some things about it, eventually. But, I still find it difficult to not come off as rude when I explain to them that there is simply no way for them to know what it's like. 373 Days, I tell them, you just can't know what that's like, how it changes you. The sense of gratitude it has cultivated in my mind and the way I view my life. Though I know they mostly mean well with their comments, they'll just never get it. Similar to how someone told me that today's ride was "all downhill." I'm sorry, but any time I hear someone say that, even as a joke, I kind of want to scream. Not at them, but just out of general frustration, haha. I have to stop people from telling me about the terrain I have yet to encounter, as I like going into it blind. unless there is a bridge out, or a road turns to dirt somewhere, I don't want to know! Trying to explain this while being nice has been a significant challenge for my social engineering skills, heh.

Sometimes

When I take a drink of water from certain glasses, and go to tip the glass back down, the water splashes me in my eye and I drop the glass in shock and make a mess. Other times, this doesn't happen.

In other news, I'm leaving for Houston on Friday morning, hoping to beat the next storm there. The storm they got last week dumped over 5 inches of rain in some parts of the city, as well as nickel-sized hail. The next chance of rain is a 20% on Sunday, which means rain. Since I got to Texas in late November, any chance of rain has turned into rain. Back home if it was 30%, or maybe even 40, you'd probably get some clouds, then  nothing. Texas? The "drought state" lately? Hell no. 10%? Rain. 20%? More rain. Haven't found a CS host in West Houston, so it looks like I'll be praying for the drought to come back just for a couple months...

Negative, you say?

I'm so fuckin sick of people who have zero experience with long bike tours telling me how I should be riding, where I need to be, what I need to pack, and why I shouldn't be afraid to head North this time of the year. Are people really that ignorant that they think Chicago is warm right now? That the roads won't be frozen for the next 2 months? Oh, just go to "X" city instead, huh? Yeah, that's only like thousands of miles out of my way, but of course, I'll just fuck up my entire route and go do something else so I finish in fuckin Nebraska. How about this, shut the fuck up and let me do my thing. Don't like it? Tough shit, deal with it. Do it differently if you want, but fuckin do it yourself, and stop telling me that I'm wasting my time, just because I don't drool over every minute of it. You spend 7000 miles on the road first, then maybe we can have a rational conversation about motive, attitude, and dedication.

Auld Lang Syne

New Year's Day, 2012. Before I had a chance to poke fun at the idea of it being yet another year in which the world is supposed to end, I am sent a /. article about how the 2012 apocalypse has been debunked by the Dutch, and that the new date is in 2220, if at all. Crumbs!

In more relevant news, this year does actually hold some significance to me personally. Today is the first day of what will more than likely prove to be one of the most challenging years of my life to date. Not only the physical, though that will be at the forefront of the list of obstacles I will face, but also the mental, emotional, and motivational. I will shiver. I will overheat. I will sweat, yell, and cry. I will curse people I used to know, and whatever part of myself I choose to blame for putting me on this path, which I so often regret. But, after whatever the rest of the tour faces me with, most importantly, this is the year during which I will finish. This is the year I will declare to myself and the world alike, that I have completed the crowning achievement of my lifetime, to date. Though, a few things need to happen first...

When the current winter, southern leg of the trip ends, I will begin heading North, towards the great Lakes. North, a word which, in my mind, has not just come to denote a direction, but has come to denote cold, wet, frozen roads. Numb fingers. Chapped lips. Damp clothing. Through the Midwest I will travel towards this area where, in my head, I picture as being frozen for half the year, ha. But, as I have done for the past 32 weeks, I will improvise, overcome, adapt, and continue on.

Thereafter, I will head into the heat, humidity, summer rains, and giant insects that I have been told await me in the Deep South. The cold, I have experienced, but this muggy, clinging, wet heat is something I've never experienced, and have had it described to me by other cyclists as simply "sticky." Though comical to think about, I'm sure it will not be pleasant. I am ballasted by the notion that I have also been told that the people I am likely to encounter there are just as amazingly friendly as all the other people I've been meeting.

Then the penultimate turnaround, to begin my third and final run North, more or less along the length of the Eastern Seaboard, bound for Maine. Aside from the finish line, this is perhaps the leg of the trip I am most eager for. Plantation and colonial history. Mossy trees hanging over fog frosted graveyards. Beaches, harbors, the smell of the sea. The origins of the US, and the most densely populated stretch of land I'll go through. The ocean of accents likely to flood into my ears. Looking, for the first times, across a different sea from the one I grew up next to. One which sits on my opposite shoulder while heading North Along its shores. One which looks out towards Africa, and not Japan. The visiting of a landmark I have wished to visit since before I dreamt of riding cross country.

Then, finally: The home stretch. The last, and shortest leg of this journey of mine. I have actually already mapped the route I will likely take from the tip of Maine, south to where I finish in Boston. I picture myself as riding with little concern for pace, the weather, or the constant logistics which help me govern my path. It will be a sprint to the end, where I will hopefully find the sense of accomplishment I long for. I try not to think about, or look at pictures of exactly where the actual riding aspect of the tour will come to an end, as I would prefer to see it all for the first time when I actually arrive, but I think it will be pretty awesome.

All this will happen this year, 2012.