Tyler Durden Alarm Clock, the Perfect Storms, and Fall Comes Early

Day: 18 (Utica, KY to Marion, KY)

Average Speed: 10.2 MPH

Miles Cycled Today: 66.6 (plus a 3 mile SAG*... so 69.6 miles travelled)

Miles Cycled Total: 1086

Dogs Encountered Today: 2 (ummm... make that 3*)

Mood: Fine

 A Not Un-Common Sign on Churches

Hanna and I have a little routine in the morning. 

She calls from New York to wake me up at approximately 5:30 AM and encourages me to get a move on. 

This is Step #1. Sleepy Me hates Hanna at this step even though Motivated Me continuously asks her to do this the night before. 

Sleepy Me is very persuasive and always talks Hanna into moving on to Step #2, which is allowing me to return to a comatose state for another hour or so. This is a great step. 

Step #3 is where Hanna ruins Step #2.  Except this morning it wasn't her fault.

I let her believe that she succeeded in rousing me to consciousness, but it was really a housefly.

It found my cheek somewhere during Step #2 and wouldn't leave me alone. It was one of those un-swattable ones too- super tiny and fast. My lethargy was no match for this guy. Only Mr. Miyagi and a pair of chopsticks could've helped me, but alas I was alone, and Kentucky isn't known for its Chinese cuisine. 

Instead, I kept hitting myself in an effort to kill it. The more times I missed, the harder I hit myself... and I missed a lot. I couldn't take my own abuse anymore and had to get up. Later, I noticed there were surveillance cameras in the room of the firehouse where I was sleeping. I hope somebody gets a laugh out of that- it must look like a scene from the end of Fight Club. 

Radar Map of Storm #1

As I was preparing to head out for the day, the trip's most violent storm yet came for a visit. Check out the radar map. That sucker went right over me while I stayed nice and dry (and even had company because a volunteer named Ryan came to the station anticipating calls). 

These are the best kind of storms when you're sheltered. They blow over quick, they're fun to watch, and they cool the termperature. Later, when I passed an eastbound cyclist, he told me he had to throw a tarp over him and his bike for an hour and a half on the side of the road. 

If this guy knew about Step #2, he totally would've avoided this problem.

Mildly Flooded Roads after Storm #1

When I did get going, the skies were blue, it was a cool 60 degrees, and water from the mildly flooded roads kicked off my tires and spritzed me oh so gently. 

Ahhhhh. 

Like being at a spa. 

Things started heating up again by mid-afternoon. But just as yesterday's temperatures started to approach, so did Big Mama Storm #2. 

At first I noted it in the distance. The lightning bolts, the far off thunder, the darkening clouds. I thought it quite whimsical and noted that it added to the landscape in a strange way. I romanticized the open road, the lack of buildings, and the sparseness of trees, and appreciated that I could take in full view ot the storm. It must've sensed my admiration, and it responded by coming closer. And closer. 

Being that I was only three miles from the next town. No biggie. I just picked up the pace a bit. I could beat this thing to Dixon no problem.

A motorist in a pickup truck pulled up beside me. 

"Hey... ya' know there's a pretty big storm coming. I just drove through part of it and it's headed this way. Throw your bike in the back and I'll give you a ride to Dixon."

But that's cheating! I thought. And I politely declined the offer, sure that I could out-pedal impending doom.

He gave me the Hairy Eyeball (Suit yourself, Lance), wished me luck, and rode off. 

This was a mistake. When I looked behind me again, black billowing clouds were one on top of the other and lightning bolts were frequent and abundant. I'd love to include a picture, but I started pedaling like Kentucky dogs were chasing after me. In fact, I'm gonna go ahead and add another dog to the Dog Encounter stat right now*. 

Good Samaritan Kara Garrett (and Casey)

I'm an idiot. What are the chances of someone offering a cyclist with bulky gear a ride out of this mess? And I turned it down!

Well, if you've been following this blog, you know the chances are good. Because people are good. 

A minute or so later, Kara Garrett was passing by in her minivan with her small children, Audrey and Casey, and she pulled over to the side of the road to wait for me. She said the same exact thing as the first driver: Storm's coming. Bad. Throw bike in. Dixon. 

I looked back at the storm, looked at Kara, quickly considered the offer, and said "I'll take it." 

Don't ask me twi... three times. 

Have you ever ridden in a car immediately after riding a bike for two weeks straight? I felt like a damn superhero. Kara was driving under the speed limit and it was all I could do not to scream Slow Down! 

Today's Route

But Kara was the superhero, not me. Not only was that storm bad, but it was far worse than the first. And I would've been caught right in the middle of it on an open road. Instead she dropped me off under the coverage of the Dixon Courthouse where I still got the chance to appreciate it, nice and dry. And it cooled things off. I got spritzed again. Ahhhh.

This is called a SAG in cyclist lingo (Support And Gear), and it refers to anytime an automobile needs to assist you in your travels. 


So I SAGged three miles. Put it on my tab. 

Kara asked if I would mind if she prayed for my safety. 

Not at all. 

Thanks, Kara Garrett. 

My Bike after an "Oh Shit" Fall

I hadn't looked at the terrain map, so the last 15 hilly miles into Marion was an unwelcome surprise. I try to be a polite cyclist and pull to the side if I sense I'm holding up traffic for patient drivers on shoulderless roads. 

Today, this chivalry resulted in my first (and hopefully only) "Oh Shit" fall of the trip. An "Oh Shit" fall is when you fail to unclip your cycling shoes from the pedals when coming to a stop. You realize your mistake and have exactly enough time to utter two syllables before you tip over. The first one being "Oh" and the next being "Shit." 

This is the third time this has ever happened to me. I've never been physically injured during one, but it is humiliating. Imagine you're walking down the sidewalk, and a pedestrian in front of you deliberately stops, then just falls over for no medically related reason whatsoever... he just falls like the hot mess that he is. Is he drunk? No. Did he trip? No. He just plain falls. 

I gave the "I'm Okay!" wave and laughed at myself, giving the spectators permission to laugh (read: bowl over) as well. 

I'm all about providing people with dinner conversation. 

Tom Welcomes Me In. Ramp is for cyclists.

I made it to my destination at about 8:15 and found a note on the door of the Marion United Methodist Church welcoming any cyclists and urging them to call a posted phone number so they could be let in. 

A volunteer named Tom arrived not three minutes after I called and gave me a tour of the spacious building. A shower. A place to stay. Even a specially built ramp designed to help cyclists get their bikes inside. 

I have the place to myself. They trust me. They trust every cyclist who stays here, and looking at the guest book, there have been at least a hundred this year alone. 

I saw four eastbound cyclists' names that I recognize from crossing paths (Joop was one! Joop! It's fun to say! Joop!).

Guest Book Entry at United Methodist Church

It's been almost 1100 miles, and I still have yet to meet another westbound traveller. But I'm hot on the tail of one. He's a British guy that was a few days ahead of me at some point. Many people have told me of his existence.

And he was here last night. I read the guest book.

I'm closing the gap. 

And I'm coming for you, Jamie Norton.

P.S. 

You don't say?

After Storm #2