Stupid, stuborn, and reasonably resillient-Bighorn Recap

100 miles, ~17,500 feet of climbing, ~18,000 feet of descent: 33 hours 18 minutes.

Now, when people ask me about a 100 miler, they almost never have the right questions, unless of course they`re familiar with the concept. Most marathoners don`t have a clue. It`s not really about the time, so long as it`s under the cutoff. The first question should be "did you finish?" Not "did you make the podium?" and following a "yes", the next question should be "what`s the buckle like?".

Yes, I finished the BigHorn 100, and the buckle is beautiful. No it wasn`t easy. Yes, it hurt. No, It`s not pretty to watch the runners, but the runner`s aren`t there to be looked at, they`re out there to look at what`s out there. Yes the course was beautiful. Yes, it was on hard trail out in the mountains. Yes, I went all night. No, I don`t know why I do these things.

No, I don`t know why I do these things. Yes... I know i`m crazy.

I knew going into this race, that my legs hadn`t yet fully healed from the 2500 miles I put them through on my bicycle. It was roughly in the 80`s warming up as we started the race at 11am on friday. I told myself first thing, "Lance, you can drop, just make it to the turn around first (mile 48)." I had gone through so much that I figured even if I only made it 48 miles into the race, I would still be able to say that "I bicycled 2500 miles to run 48" and every bit further that I made it would just be a better and better story.

Start line: after a 9am pre-race meeting with all the runners and race directors, we all made the 4 mile trip to the startline down a dirt road where we start by "the big cottonwood". We had about an hour wait in the rugged heat, I`m sure this is where everyone began to get dehydrated. Everyone crowded in the small poatches of shade making buddy buddies with everyone else very quickly, Thank goodness the "bubble" doesn`t apply to a racer who`s so deep in their mind, focused, that they don`t mind touching knees, butts, backs, and shoulders with 4 different sweaty strangers.

I had the bright idea of going light for the first thirty miles, so i dropped my hydration vest with my 2 good water bottles in my 30 mile drop bag. I got the start line with 1 hand held bottle that I quickly realized would not cut it. I set out on a search for an extra bottle. Cooling off sitting in the fast flowing tongue river, which i would soon run along for 7 miles, I found an old trashed plastic waterbottle (like a poland spring bottle). And I snagged it for my own use, valueing proper hydration over proper hygiene. The runner improvisation kicked in and i stuffed it between my rolled up buff and my palm so that i wouldn`t have to clutch it the whole time.

Miles 1-8.5: the race starts out with a 1.25 mile gradual climb on a narrow dirt road in order to spread out the crowd of 340 starters before hitting the single track. From the trail head, you follow narrow, beautiful climbing trail up through the tongue river canyon. Huge canyon walls lead you from the prairie up into the mountains. The single track climb was a lot of weaving around the slow climbers and tailing the fast climbers. I knew that i wanted to takeoff with some purpose on the climbs. I knew That my down hill and flat cruising would not match other people so I took advantage of every climb. 4000 feet of climbing through the hot canyon meant dunking in every stream crossing and dumping water on yourself to cool off whenever possible. This first long climb was where I started to make friends. The classic, greatly appreciated expectation of wonderful conversations with other mountain runners.

8.5-13.5: To the first big Aid Station, and first drop bag (Dry Fork)
From The upper sheep creek aid station (mile 8.5), I knew we only had 5 miles of rolling terrain before the first main aid station, where Molly would be waiting for me and Jon. This is the point in a long race where you start to really evaluate your speed, and every little feeling in your body. Thoughts like "it`s mile 9 and my knee is bothering me, I`ve got 91 miles to go..." start pouring through your brain. No one REALLY knows what 91 more miles feels like, it`s different every time, and everytime after you finish, you flush out all the negative thoughts so that in a few days you can convince yourself to sign up for another one. For the first 15 or so miles of these kinds of races it`s always a joke of hitting a mile marker and telling the runner next to you how many you have left. But the humor fades very quickly.
As i said, I knew others would pass me on the flats and down hills. mile 8.5 was where this started happening. Hordes of athletes began to tear their way past me as I began to weave in some flat land walking in with my jogging, energy conservation time. Most people conserve on the climbs and let loose on the flats, but that never worked for me. At this point in the race no one really knows who is going to keep up the pace whispers of a sub 24 hour finish pervade the minds of most of the runners around me, and eventually carry their way to the conversations between the runners. Being somewhere around the 60th runner to pass this aid station, knowing that only 15 broke 24 last year, my dams of a hyper fast race began to slip. No problem, always remember the bottom line "Sub-34 hours" That`s what we are all out there for, only 60% of everyone who started today will acheive that.

Dry Fork: 13.5 miles - Foot bridge 30 miles.
Heat, sweat, hunger.
People are dropping already and looking like they`re gonna keep dropping. I came into this aid station at 3 hours and 3 minutes, too fast, slow down. I must have been dehydrated already, caked in sweat and feeling the tension of stomach cramps. I tried to get moving quick, change socks, lubricate feet, hydrate, fill bottles, fill pockets with food, move. in the next 16.5 miles the course would drop from 7500` to 4000` with the infamous "wall" dropping you down to the footbridge.

This sections was nothing too spectacular in terms of thoughts. Mostly a "keep it up" mentality, enjoying the views, and the new layer of sunscreen on my body. Working slow, to keep my gut action down, I eventually ran into fellow runner, caleb from Georgia, who I would run most of the way back to footbridge with, but eventually slow down for the fear of puking, but we eventually got back together later in the race. I took this section easy, just telling myself to go slow and steady to footbridge and then enjoy a break.
The last 2.5 miles to the footbridge is the wall of the course, a 2000` wall, most of which is lost/gained over about 1.75 miles, for you lose it on the way out but the next day at mile 66, you begin your way up it. I was fantasizing about climbing it on my way down, knowing that it would be impossible for going up to hurt as much as going down did. But 28-30 miles on my legs, I was still fresh and knew that there was relief and food waiting for me at the Footbridge aid station, which is the most miraculous coordination of chairs, foot rinsing tubs, dry towels, and crew care I have ever seen. Coming into the aid station, 100 yards out there are 2 kids on walkie talkies giving your bib number to some one at the station, you`re immediate greeted by a volunteer, a chair and your dropbag with an onslaught of food, liquid and service. FIVE STAR SERVICE. 7 hours and 5 minutes to the aid station, 25 minutes there.

Time for the climb!  FootBridge to Jaws turn around, 30 - 48. 6:30pm - midnight
5 and a half hour 18 mile climb from 4000` to ~9200`. I probably jogged the bottom half of this, feeling like a new man, with clean feet, new socks, new shoes, a new shirt, a newly installed water vest with 2 good bottles, no more of that holding my water in my hands shit.
I went past the first aid of the slimb, 3.5 up and they must have stought I was crazy, I jogged on in and there was a line of soft beaten bodies sitting on the log around a fire, and I had this crazed smile on my face now that I was finally climbing, I swear the best race for me would be uphill both directions.
I reloaded water, told myself to drink more, because I had only pissed once in 8.5 hours (not good) and it looked like mountain dew (I swear i had none of the mountain dew the aid stations offered I did have pepsi though). They told me 6.5 miles to the next water station. That`s just too far. How dare them keep us from good potable water for that long. Every one I ran into on the last portion of this section was getting agitated, imagining an aid station to be right around the corner, the aid station that never comes.
When we finally got there, only 8 miles to the turn around Mile marker 40! It was starting to get dark and cold, I put my head light on my head (didn1t turn it on yet) and had my windbreaker out, and said farewell to the beautiful water supplying volunteers. ABout a quarter mile out of the station, a runner was coming down the trail. The lead runner was 16 miles ahead of me. Oh my effing god. And he looked young, Andrew Miller, who would later in the race, win, with a new course record, would turn out to only be 19 years old. So much for me being the young guy on the field.

The climb up over the high point of the race would test my patience, it`s getting dark and the race is getting real. I need to get to the turnaround and keep going. No backing down, atleast not here.

Jaws turn around mile 48 13 hours deep, it`s midnight 21 hours to finish:
New Friends Mike and Chris were waiting for me. Mike leads me into the tent, lit up in the dark with bright lights and the brighter eyes of middle of the pack runners.
Fed, I put my tights on to warm up, and mike gave me an enviable calf massage, I was cramping, still behind on my water and food.
I Asked chris, who was joining me for the night , if he was ready, and of course he was, this was training for him. a 12 and a half hour 34 mile jaunt for him, starting at 12:30am.

To the bridge! (the footbridge) Miles 48-66 12:30am-7am:
Breaking, slowly breaking in the night. A few miles down the trail, i warned chris about the obstacles I had overcome on my way up that we would have to overcome on our way down, namely grossly, unavoidable, shoesucking mud. The top 5 milesup and 5 miles down are laiden with deep, wide, long sections of mud that you learn to not think about. Just go through it, and change your socks later. Somehwere around mile 55 is where my problems began. I don`t recal of any instance that immediately hurt me, but something happened, and the onslaught of the downward grade made it worse and worse. My left leg was a trouble. one that kept me to a walk for much of our trip down to footbridge. The aidstations blur together, they are simply a place for me to sit for a moment, get my bottles filled and keeping moving forward, a rocky quote snuck it`s way into my head here

"It`s not about how hard you can hit! It`s about how hard you can get hit, and keep moving forward! that`s what winning is!"
This would be my mantra, for I was being hit hard, and i knew that I had to atleast move forward to the footbridge. I felt for sure that I would have to quit here. I was limping. I was pushing. But chris kept my head in the game. he did what a middle of the night and early morning pacer needs to do. he kept my head in the game.
With 2 miles to go before footbridge, I jogged. We jogged the whole way into mile 66, I needed to go to the bathroom, and being inside a narrow canyon I figured the portapotty at the FootBridge would be the best choice.

I tried not to waste too much time here, i had decided to keep going. Time to climb the wall.

FootBridge (4000`) to just passed Bear camp 66 - 71ish
I warned chris about the wall. Told him it would be rough. and when we climbed the first section and he was feeling pretty beat, I felt bad when I told him it only gets steeper, rockier, and longer. and the heat of the day was starting the strike us. Where on the downhills I was boring him with my turtle like speed, my mountain goat characteristics had him pushing hard to keep up on the climb, I am a climber through and through and always will be. i told him the next aid station is at 69.5miles and we could recover there, but we need to push to get there and that we did. Looking back, it may have done us both some good to be more relaxed on that climb, for shortly after the 69.5 aid station, fondly called bear camp, Chris and I split up. I was getting scared that I was going to slow and felt the pressure to keep up with a group that just passed us and he wasn`t up for the task, What i didn`t know is that very shortly after saying our goodbyes and thanking chris for keeping me in it, my leg would flare up, apparently jogging on (what i would later find out is) a torn muscle, is not as easy as walking on it.

71Ish to Dryfork (82.5) 9am-2pm
Walk it out.
Alone, away from my pacer, suffering.
Hot, exhausted, limping.
These were the miles that define my efforts of this race. 5 hours to do a little over 11 miles, >25minutes/mile = slow walking pace = Lance pushing hard enough to cry.
I think that putting yourself into the situation that I put myself in, allows time, room, and headspace enough to reach some actualization. Many times more than once did a tear roll down my face during this stumbling walk through the open heat:

"How am I ever going to finish this?!"
"You put yourself here!"
"Why am I still doing this?!"
"You have to finish, How are you ever going to finish going this slow?!"

I told myself my tears were without a purpose. no one was around me for many of them. what is the point of a tear with no one to give you attention, but to dehydrate you. "These tears are setting you back Lance".

Walk it out!

As I was laying on the side of the trail cry, my last time stopped before the aid station, a runner and his pacer picked me up from the dust of the trail. "I can`t run with you"
"You don`t have to" he said, "But you sure as hell better walk, walking`s gonna get you there, Sitting down has never gotten someone closer to a finish line"

So I walked. he seemed to think that at the pace I was going. If I left Dryfork by 3:00 I would be fine. I left dry fork at 2:00.
Dry fork Aid station.
Chris`s wife was waiting for us at the top of the last big climb to the station, I had never met her but she knew my bib number. I told her chris was somewhere still behind me, but he couldn`t be far, for I had been going so slow.
And as all good things happen, while changing my socks and re lubricating my feet, Chris came strolling in. Damn was glad to see him. i thanked him again, and appologized for leaving, but good people understand, And chris is good. I told him how bad things were and that I was going to have to walk. I told him i was going to try and push it to give myself time, or maybe get to the finish with time to spare. little did I know that the next 5 miles of pushing would simply allow me the time to suffer painstakingly slow on the down hill.

Dryfork to the trail head (82.5-95) 2pm-6:40 7500` down to 4000`
Pushing through the 5 miles of rollers I developed yet an other mantra, this one a listing of the aid stations left to pass: Upper sheep, Lower sheep, trail head, finish. Upper sheep, Lower sheep, Trail head, finish!
I thought if i pushed I might be able to finish by 7pm witha time of 32 hours, but by the time I passed upper sheep aid station at 87.5 miles with the last real climb just ahead .5 miles with 600 feet of climbing, I pushed hard up, only to end up worse. 7 miles of hard down hill left and 5 miles of road travel...

Suffering so hard on the downhill that i often needed to stop to compose myself emotionally, I could not break the barrier between walking and jogging for more than a few hobbling strides. The pounding of simply walking downhill had my leg terribly swollen. This was the section that tested me patience. I knew if I could just get off the mountain, I would have the time to walk the 5 road miles without too much terrible suffering. Distance running definitely takes the cake as the creator of my enduring patience.

With still 5 miles to go before the road, a man I met the previous day, and fellow 100 miler, james, stopped and offered me his trekking poles to aid in my descent, to take some weight off of my legs. Although James is a fair bit taller than me, and his poles were far too long for any normal purpose, the fit the bill, and are probably the reason why I made it off the mountain with enough time to get to the finish.

The descent back through the Tongue river canyon, i feel will be at the top of the list of my most enduring intensive moments for a long time to come.

The death march of a walk down the tongue river canyon road will be the longest road exercise of my life, i`m quite certain. The 5 miles that never end. From 6:40-8:18. I simply could not run.

After the road finally leads you to the center of town and over the bridge crossing the Tongue River, you cross the road and stroll into the town park, where you loop through the park, cowbells ringing, friend, family, fellow racers cheering, and cruise through to flagging towards the finish. i had the good fortune of having Ace (6 year old), the son of Jon, who would finish 5 minutes later, run the last 100 yards or so with me. 99.95 miles into a race and I could sttill recognized a teachable moment "run just a little slower Ace, let`s cross the finish line together" 8:18pm Done.

Project biking to a sense of place, done. 2500 miles from vermont to Wyoming via bicycle, check. Heal: check(ish). Run 100 miles through the bighorn Mountain: CHECK (ish walked a lot)
As the saying goes from my best friend, geoffrey Fehrs... "These thing require you to be stupid, stuborn, and reasonably resillient." And oddly enough, each one you do builds up these three attributes. And yet even more odd, the more you build up these three attributes, the more you do these events. I don`t know if it`s a positive feedback loop, or negative, but I`m in it for the long haul now.

Icy hot, yoga, and a foam roller.

http://www.bighorntrailrun.com/home.html

3 days and less than 23 hours until the start of the Bighorn Mountain 100 mile foot race. I`m still in Buffalo with a smile. Yesterday i went out with jon (Brian and Becky`s friend who is running to 100) and one of his pacers, mike, to the trail head of the race. The race begins 1 mile down the road and heads up into the mountains through theBEAUTIFUL Tongue River Canyon. We ran about 4 or 5 miles up gaining probably 2000 feet in elevation. I can look forward to just under 4000 feet of climbing in the first 8 miles of the race.

If you know much about my running style, you know i`m going to start off strong so that i can take advantage of every big climb this race has to offer, because it`s the down hills that are going to get me.

I`m glad I`ve had the good fortune to meet these guys, both because they`re great people, and because they are knowledgeable about the course.  Having the opportunity to game plan with them has driven me into the deep dark head space of constant race prep.

This morning, Friend, mentor, college instructor, and inspiration: Pavel Cenkl, took off for the largest running endeavor he has taken on, >170 miles across iceland. His run, which is not just a stunt, is an attempt to raise awareness in athletes like us, to take the high road in building climate resillience in a changing world. Maybe he knows it, maybe he doesn`t, but this act of his was a leading inspiration in my goal of bicycling to my race. I feel that travelling to one`s race in as sustainable a manner possible, is one step in taking that high road.

It`s obviously not an easy thing to do, but that`s why he`s running so far, and that`s why I biked so far. The first two goals of my project were to be inspired and to inspire. The second piece is key in bringing attention to the issues that pavel is seeking to bring attention to. I`m sure that somewhere in his mind, is the goal of inspiring athlete and others alike to be cognizant of the environmental impacts of their choices.

So, as Pavel is out there in the arctic, running across a small country, I`m left here, in Buffalo, Wyoming, trying to determine what role I play in this big puzzle of ours. For me, right now, that role is getting to my race, and making a scene. My role is to share my story, for sadly, I might be the first person to ever bike 2500 to the start line of a 100 mile foot race. And just as my second goal is to inspire, I must dig for the courage to do just that, inspire other athletes to take the high road in the way that they travel ti their races.

With love, encouragement, and the deep penetrating smell of icy hot,
I must take care of my legs.
See you at the start line.
-Lance Parker

2500 and the BigHorns alast!

Here I am, in the guest room of what has turned out to be yet an other perfect allignment of the stars. I am with the Cotant family in Buffalo, Wyoming, Set just outside of the BigHorn Mountains at an elevation of about 4600 feet above sea level.

The family, Brian and Becky (Husband and Wife), and their 2 wonderfully cheerful kids, Paxton (6), and Kaitlyn (3), has been wonderful to be. I met them through Warm showers, looking for a place to stay, and they were MORE than welcoming. When I told Brian, before Igot to his house, my reason for being in the BigHorns (the 100), he quickly shot back a comment about a good friend of his, Jon, participating in the event and invited him and his family over to dinner.

I got here on Wednesday night, and with my circumstances, they offered me to stay with them as long as is helpful. And with Jon living in town, also going to the race, I have someone to join up with to get there, marking this family`s home as the end point of my bicycle adventure.

Yesterday, they wanted to go camping up in the mountains, and invited me along, so i naturally joined, figuring a good day and a night`s sleep at 9000 feet would be good for my blood count. It turned into quite the adventure including some serious off roading in a Ford Explorer that called for a 2 hour test of patience getting the car unstuck. After a lot of jacking the corners of the car up and piling rocks under the tires to replace mud, we wandered back  down until we found a good place to set up camp. It was nice to take my fire making skills and help the family out by getting a fire going real quick for everyone while they got dinner rolling.

With some evening smores, 12,000 foot mountains behind, a fast flowing mountain creek, and approaching storm heads, we set off for a good night sleep.

I can`t help but think, everyday of this trip, with amazement, that I got myself here by bicycle. I have squeezed my way into some interesting places on this trip, whether it be a hot tub at someone`s house who was only hours before, a stranger, or a nice beer at 5200 feet above sea level in the Black Hills, or a back mountain road jacking up a ford explorer, this trip has been blessed, there is no doubting that.

I`m sure there will be some deep level of withdrawal that I will have to go through at the close of this trip. You`ve only got so much in your karma pool and it can`t be good to pull it all out at once, so I see an appropriate ending of this trip in sight. It will be time to pay it forward, which, If i`m lucky, I`ll be handed good opportunities to pass the love and blessings on.

With less than a week to race day, I`ll be healing, breathing slow, and taking in what good things have been handed to me.

With love, gratitude, healing legs, and just an ounce of angst,
I bid you farewell for now,

-Lance Parker

The Black Hills gave me so much love.

I'm sitting in yet an other public library, my first though, in the state of Wyoming. I am in the town of Moorcroft. I started in the Black Hills foothill town of Spearfish,SD.

I arrived to the Black Hills on Saturday, and didn't leave until Tuesday. That should tell you something, when my original plan was to just pass through. I had some of the biggest ass kicking climbs of my bicycling life, and some of the gnarliest winding downhills. Not to mention the hospitality I received from strangers all 3 nights I was in the hills.

Saturday: Hitched a ride with my broken bike, with a couple (Al and Charli) from Florida in an RV. In short, they brought me all the way to Rapid City to get to a bike shop. Later this day, after some exploring of the local beer scene, I cruised on into the hills (by "cruised" I mean granny geared it). I made it up to Rushmore, with a little bit of exploring, all the while a storm dropped 2 inches of rain in the hills. That evening I dropped down into a pay to camp campground by Horse-Thief lake, and the first thing that happened was I was offered to camp on someone else's lot, so that I wouldn't be charged. I spent the evening hanging out with this group of people from Eastern South Dakota. They had a few friends from India with them who cooked up a mean meal of spicy rice and soy. This group of people told me that they were going to do something called the volksmarch which is a walk up the Crazy Horse Monument, and they invited me to tag along the next day...

Sunday: ...and I did. I decided to run though, my parting was bidding them farewell at the bottom of this incredible sculpture, to give you an idea of the generosity and trust these people had in me, we put my stuff in their vehicle, locked it up, and they gave me the key.
Leaving this monument, I wandered yet again for the remainder of the morning and a bit of the afternoon, and stopped at Miner Brewery in Hill City. Here I met the next great person to treat me well, Bruce. He came up to me, like many others have done, to ask me about my story. And he was particularly intrigued, and asked to sit down for a beer with me. well we chatted and chatted and eventually he offered me to stay with him at his place just outside the Notional Forest land, and I accepted, and I spent the evening, hot-tubbing, showering, swapping stories, eating burgers, and don't forget the keg that he so happens to have, what hospitality. He showed me around his place, sharing many of the different pieces of furniture that he has built, the extension of his home, gladly answering my questions.

Monday: I rode the hell out of the Black Hills. The best bicycle ride of my life, really. meandering back roads topping out well over a mile high, exploring old mining towns, blasting down strawberry hill and aztec hill. Culminating the ride with a 20 mile gradual down hill through the beautiful, bold Spearfish Canyon.
Well the Library is about to close... so in attempt to do Justice to the people I met In Spearfish, I will save it for my next post.

With love, pure exhaustion, and high spirits,
Lance Parker

Working hard in the prairies.

Hey all, it`s been a bit since I`ve posted. Spirits have drastically improved since. I am laying low in a KOA campground in middle of nowhere southern South Dakota just off of Interstate 90 (which I`ve been cruising on all day).

I have gone 690 miles in the last 6 days, essentially, i`m killing it! and having a blast while doing so. I`m having my first real bike trouble though, wore through my first tire, replaced it,and now my spokes are blowing on my rear wheel. 3 have blown since yesterday. the nearest bike hop is 110-115 miles from me and it`s on the other side of the badlands. It`s gonna be a real hairy adventure.

When the third spoke broke, my wheel was wobbling so bad that i had to take apart my rear brake so that the wobble doesnt hit the brake. But now i`m showered and fed, its as if it doesnt matter at all now, I`ll worry about it tomorrow.

Recap of mileage:
Madison, Wisconsin to Luana, IA-122 miles
Luana to Garner (IA) - 135
Garner to Boyden - 128
Boyden to Sioux Falls, SD - 65
Sioux Falls, SD to Chamberlain, SD - 146 (Longest ride yet)
Chamberlain to KOA, 1880 town (old western town East Belvidere, SD)- 100


We`ll see how far I can get tomorrow. If I get to Rapid City, where the bike shop is, I will be on the edge of the Black Hills with enough time to kill that you know I have to see what the hills are like.

With much love, a growing smile, and suprisingly my legs aren` that sore...
Fare well!

Stay the course!

If I had to tell you what the most difficult thing about travelling is...
I'd tell you that the glory of meeting people out in the world, after being lonely, creates a true ache in your heart when you leave.

Last Sunday (May 21st), I arrived in Madison, Wisconsin, drawing to a close, the first leg of my trip. 1350 miles and 15 days from Vermont to Madison. I spent 6 days there, in order to spend my birthday in a nice comfortable place. Grace got there during my time there and we were able to spend our time wandering the city, finding good coffee shops, looking at bike stores, and eating good food together. But yesterday, I left.

What seemed to be the hardest day of my trip so far, yesterday i biked from Madison, westward in a state bicycling trail and connected with rt 18 which I planned to take all the way to the Mississippi and across the entire northern section of Iowa. about 40 or 50 miles away though, I broke. It felt as though everything in my body was telling me to turn around. "Go to comfort" "What are you trying to prove anyways?!" "You're biking the wrong direction!"

With a little over an hour spent at a gas station, calling friend, calling Grace, Writing in my journal and crying, I committed to continuing moving forward... Stay the course!

I feel confident though that I must cut my trip short. I can not possibly go through all of June and all of July without seeing my wonderful friend back in Madison, all the while I am alone and striving.

No one told me that this was going to be easy, and I told myself it would be the hardest thing I've ever done, but I am feeling beaten down. I just want to get to Wyoming, Run my race, and take a train or bus back to my new home. This is too hard.

So here I am, in West Union, Iowa. Apparently this town is the border town between the "driftless" region and the flat lands. Driftless being the region that was unscathed by the glaciers, leaving it hillier than most of the land between here and New York, I'm still cranking out the miles though. 120 yesterday and I'll probably match that today. I'm too bored and lonely to stop for too long, so I just bike hard and let my feelings leave me in the form of sweat and heavy breath.

I know though, that I must stay the course.

I'm Tired

May 21st (Day 12): From Wolcott, Indiana.

Well, I'm 25 miles from time travelling (A.K.A. crossing the Indiana-Illinois border into the Central Time Zone. It's on an off drizzling and wind from the NorthWest at about 10 miles per hour and about 50 degrees, maybe cooler.

Recap of the last few days.
Ohio is behind me. After I left Cleveland and the home of the wonderful Sean McCafferty mentioned in my last post, I biked south from Cleveland to get onto a back country highway to cross the state (rt 224). I was planning on picking my tent up in the small town of Sullivan ohio, where it was mailed to the post office. I got into town, 70 miles into the day, at 3:30. Post office closed at 1:30. I was not going to mess around without a tent, so I spent the night. 70 miles in the day is my shortest biking day (not including the day I took completely off in Aurora).

The following day I got my tent, and had a late start, leaving town around 9:15 (After a good hardy breakfast of multigrain hot cereal with flax, chia, peanut butter, honey, and granola) and I rode slowly into the head wind. I meandered my way through 100 miles or so of farm land, flat as flat gets, but windy as windy gets to the town of Ottawa.

That night I fabricated plans to try and get to a home to stay at for thursday night not far from Peoria Illinois. Foolishly thinking that I could bike that far (I misread the map somehow and figured it would take two 110-120 days (big days the biggest so far).

The next day I woke early, with 120 miles planned for the day. I cruised through town, the wind was mild and the temps were in the high 30's (COLD on a bike especially when you forgot your glove and need to put socks on your hands).

I hit Indiana at 10:45, 45 miles gone already. by 11:30, 52 miles down. by 2:30, 80 miles. By 3, I biked 5 miles the wrong direction, by 3:30, biked 5 miles back (90 miles).
90 miles into my day I hit US rt 24 TRUCKER ROUTE. I have seen thousands of semis pass me since then. I biked about 50 miles on 24 yesterday to get past the city of Logansport.

As of now I have about 100 miles between me and the home I can stay at in El Paso, IL.
I'll probably bike an other 60 today and do the rest tomorrow. because I'm tired.

I'll leave you with that.

I'm tired.