Average Speed: 12.8 km/hr (8 mph)
Distance Today: 72.1 km (45 miles)
Distance Cycled Total: 3495 km (2171 Miles)
Mood: A bit low
Over lunch yesterday, Inka said something in her chipper nature that I found surprising:
"Albania is my favorite country so far!"
Really? I thought. I mean, it's growing on me, but favorite? That's a stretch.
Being frugal travelers, I assumed she and Fabi were most attracted to the rock-bottom prices here, and I left it at that.
Personally, I put the country last on my list after Day One. It nudged itself past the Czech Republic on Day Two. Day Three, it scored a spot above Germany. And today? It skyrocketed to #1 on my list as well. Sorry, Austria.
Wow.
Kudos, Albania. A Cinderella Story.
I would hate to take my route in reverse and leave this incredible place with a bad taste in the mouth.
I'm aware of my affinity for using superlatives in description, but... I think today's climb tops anything I've done before as far as difficulty goes. Hard to tell. I live in the present. But still.
Over coffee this morning, the hostel guests and owner warned me about it when they heard about my goal of making it to Sarande:
"Dude. There's a serious, serious mountain coming up. Change your plans. Aim for Himare instead."
Pffft. What do they know?
More than I, apparently.
This was not just a "proper climb" (to borrow Jamie's phrase). This was a big, beautiful, badass bitch of a climb: The length of one of the Rockies with the steepness of one of the Ozarks. I may have only cycled 45 miles today, but in those 45 miles, I climbed 5,800 feet. And of those 45, I'm guessing 15 were downhill, and about 10 were relatively flat.
That's a lot of climbing in a short distance.
Partway up- when I was already sweat-soaked and out of breath- I stopped at a tiny fruit stand to refill my water. I met some fellow New Yorkers (ex-pat Albanians) who were familiar with the area and we struck up a conversation.
"I can't believe I have to go up there," I said, pointing to barely visible cars high above us.
They laughed.
"You're not going there, friend. You're going THERE." They took my arm, moved it to the left a bit, and drastically changed the angle. See pic.
For once, traffic patiently waited behind me as I crawled my way up, and when they carefully passed it was thumbs-up only. No honks. Two police cars put their lights on when they approached, and accompanied me for a bit. All grins.
Five hours. One climb.
Heck, even the Strava App that I recently started using automatically labeled one 2.5 mile section as "Welcome to Hell." I climbed that part at 2.6 MPH. You feel like you're going to fall when you drop below 3.
Still, I could've done more today.
I should've done more today.
I need to get going.
I need to be finished.
I didn't even start pedaling until 12:30 PM, and it is with a serious lack of excitement that I mark that square off the Bingo Board.
My ride is coming to an end.
I confess, it's already past its expiration date.
And I still haven't booked a flight home.
My CVMS family (can't use the word "co-workers") is prepping their classrooms, and I'm not there.
My choice. I need to not be there this year.
At 37, I still need to figure out where I'm going.
Not too long ago, I watched a close friend of mine hack away at a stick of pepperoni with a plastic knife, trying to cut off piece for himself. It took him a while, and when he finally made it through, I snagged it up and swallowed it. It's the sort of thing that friends do. I wasn't even hungry... I just wanted to nullify his effort. Seemed funny at the time.
But he was pissed.
"You're so lazy," he said. I thought he was joking at first, but then he went on to enumerate examples of my sloth. He was dead serious.
It stung. Worse than the wasp that found its way under my cycle shorts a few weeks ago. And he didn't stop there.
That's what I heard today, over and over again in my head as I climbed this fucker.
You're so lazy. (I can do this. I know I can.)
You're being selfish. (If a car can do it on four wheels, I can do it on two.)
You're giving up on your school family. (Don't look five kilometers ahead. Look five meters ahead.)
You're on a cycle-tour like a vagrant. (One More Pedal.)
You have no direction. (Your hand's asleep. Slap your ass. Don't stop.)
You can't hold a relationship because the only thing you care about is your job. (Turn up the music.)
Your wife left you because you were too busy working. (Almost there.)
You miss your nephews' and nieces' birthday parties. And their soccer games. You're a shitty uncle. (I got this. This is easy.)
You're a sucker. You volunteer for everything. You have no personal life. And your bank account is laughable. (Sweat never felt so good.)
You. Are. Lazy. (Made it.)
I solemnly celebrated with a beer at the top, breaking my "no booze while riding" policy.
I thought about the kids I won't see this year; the kids I consider to be my own.
I thought about the heartfelt letters I got from students who have graduated, thanking me for influencing their lives.
I thought about my mom. My dad. And 10,000 things I could've done to be a better son.
And then I climbed onto my bicycle, and descended. And I thought about Albania. I'm not ashamed to use a superlative here. It was the most incredible descent I've ever experienced.
Feel free to ride a tiny portion of if. No time lapse. No editing. You'll see it as I see it, with the same song I had playing in my earbuds in the background.
It wasn't sweat that stained my cheeks.
I assumed I had finished climbing for the day.
I thought it would've been all downhill to my destination. To Himare.
I really thought that.
But when I met sea level once again, I looked up, and saw tiny cars maneuvering high above me with tiny headlights.
"You gotta be kidding me."
Another huge climb.
You can do it.
You're 37, and you're starting at sea level.
Cinderella Story.
It's just a mountain.
Climb that fucker.
 |
| Sign in tonight's hostel. Cheryl, one of the secretaries where I work, bought a similar sign for me last year to hang in my classroom. She painted the saddle green. |
Over lunch yesterday, Inka said something in her chipper nature that I found surprising:
"Albania is my favorite country so far!"
 |
| Wait... where did the potholes go? |
Being frugal travelers, I assumed she and Fabi were most attracted to the rock-bottom prices here, and I left it at that.
Personally, I put the country last on my list after Day One. It nudged itself past the Czech Republic on Day Two. Day Three, it scored a spot above Germany. And today? It skyrocketed to #1 on my list as well. Sorry, Austria.
 |
| From last Sunday's NYT crossword |
Wow.
Kudos, Albania. A Cinderella Story.
I would hate to take my route in reverse and leave this incredible place with a bad taste in the mouth.
I'm aware of my affinity for using superlatives in description, but... I think today's climb tops anything I've done before as far as difficulty goes. Hard to tell. I live in the present. But still.
Over coffee this morning, the hostel guests and owner warned me about it when they heard about my goal of making it to Sarande:
"Dude. There's a serious, serious mountain coming up. Change your plans. Aim for Himare instead."
Pffft. What do they know?
More than I, apparently.
 |
| Only part of the way up. |
This was not just a "proper climb" (to borrow Jamie's phrase). This was a big, beautiful, badass bitch of a climb: The length of one of the Rockies with the steepness of one of the Ozarks. I may have only cycled 45 miles today, but in those 45 miles, I climbed 5,800 feet. And of those 45, I'm guessing 15 were downhill, and about 10 were relatively flat.
That's a lot of climbing in a short distance.
Partway up- when I was already sweat-soaked and out of breath- I stopped at a tiny fruit stand to refill my water. I met some fellow New Yorkers (ex-pat Albanians) who were familiar with the area and we struck up a conversation.
"I can't believe I have to go up there," I said, pointing to barely visible cars high above us.
They laughed.
"You're not going there, friend. You're going THERE." They took my arm, moved it to the left a bit, and drastically changed the angle. See pic.
 |
| "Wait... what?" |
For once, traffic patiently waited behind me as I crawled my way up, and when they carefully passed it was thumbs-up only. No honks. Two police cars put their lights on when they approached, and accompanied me for a bit. All grins.
 |
| Sections of the climb |
Five hours. One climb.
Heck, even the Strava App that I recently started using automatically labeled one 2.5 mile section as "Welcome to Hell." I climbed that part at 2.6 MPH. You feel like you're going to fall when you drop below 3.
Still, I could've done more today. I should've done more today.
I need to get going.
I need to be finished.
I didn't even start pedaling until 12:30 PM, and it is with a serious lack of excitement that I mark that square off the Bingo Board.
My ride is coming to an end.
I confess, it's already past its expiration date.
And I still haven't booked a flight home.
My CVMS family (can't use the word "co-workers") is prepping their classrooms, and I'm not there.
My choice. I need to not be there this year.
At 37, I still need to figure out where I'm going.
Not too long ago, I watched a close friend of mine hack away at a stick of pepperoni with a plastic knife, trying to cut off piece for himself. It took him a while, and when he finally made it through, I snagged it up and swallowed it. It's the sort of thing that friends do. I wasn't even hungry... I just wanted to nullify his effort. Seemed funny at the time.
But he was pissed.
"You're so lazy," he said. I thought he was joking at first, but then he went on to enumerate examples of my sloth. He was dead serious.
It stung. Worse than the wasp that found its way under my cycle shorts a few weeks ago. And he didn't stop there.
That's what I heard today, over and over again in my head as I climbed this fucker.
You're so lazy. (I can do this. I know I can.)
You're being selfish. (If a car can do it on four wheels, I can do it on two.)
You're giving up on your school family. (Don't look five kilometers ahead. Look five meters ahead.)
You're on a cycle-tour like a vagrant. (One More Pedal.)
You have no direction. (Your hand's asleep. Slap your ass. Don't stop.)
You can't hold a relationship because the only thing you care about is your job. (Turn up the music.)
Your wife left you because you were too busy working. (Almost there.)You miss your nephews' and nieces' birthday parties. And their soccer games. You're a shitty uncle. (I got this. This is easy.)
You're a sucker. You volunteer for everything. You have no personal life. And your bank account is laughable. (Sweat never felt so good.)
You. Are. Lazy. (Made it.)
 |
| CHEERS FOR THE BEER, STEVEN WING! |
I thought about the kids I won't see this year; the kids I consider to be my own.
I thought about the heartfelt letters I got from students who have graduated, thanking me for influencing their lives.
I thought about my mom. My dad. And 10,000 things I could've done to be a better son.
And then I climbed onto my bicycle, and descended. And I thought about Albania. I'm not ashamed to use a superlative here. It was the most incredible descent I've ever experienced.
Feel free to ride a tiny portion of if. No time lapse. No editing. You'll see it as I see it, with the same song I had playing in my earbuds in the background.
It wasn't sweat that stained my cheeks.
I assumed I had finished climbing for the day.
I thought it would've been all downhill to my destination. To Himare.
I really thought that.
But when I met sea level once again, I looked up, and saw tiny cars maneuvering high above me with tiny headlights.
"You gotta be kidding me."
Another huge climb.
You can do it.
You're 37, and you're starting at sea level.
Cinderella Story.
It's just a mountain.
Climb that fucker.
P.S.
This hitchhiker may have beaten me yet again (to Himare this time)...
But damn, it was a great reunion with a big hug.
And I hijacked one of his signs.
Loved taking that ride down the mountain with you! Praying for your soul searching. Remember - God loves you.. and He has a plan. <3
ReplyDeleteI could listen and watch that over and over.
ReplyDeleteReally great piece you wrote here mate :-)
ReplyDelete