Armed with an IPod, dollar store headphones, and a bicycle, I set out for my 100 mile day. Three meals, another flat tire, and enough water to sink a tug boat, and I met my goal, sort of. Google maps was telling me 98.1 miles was the official number, so I'll let you decide whether to give me a pat on the back.
There were two stretches, 37 and 38 miles, where I didn't stop, because there wasn't anywhere to stop. On the last 38, I pedaled from the place I ate lunch right up to the KFC where I ate dinner without getting off the bike. The tire kind of set me back and I was committed to this extra credit assignment.
I've been pretty lucky so far when it comes to flats (besides yesterday and today). Hopefully three will be the magic number. Just in case it's not, I've put a patch on one of my tubes while I type this.
Anytime something goes wrong with the bike, I get frustrated. Rightfully so, it's beyond my control. My thoughts wander for a bit, trying to convince myself it'll be okay (The bike that is, I know I'll be okay. I'm not one of those ticking time bombs that staples his thumb to a paper and then punches a co-worker). Today was no different. But just like when a girl steals my heart with a passing glance, I get over it eventually. Time heals these wounds.
I've "checked in" to another city park. I'm thinking about getting into the pavilion design business. I may be one of the most qualified in the state of Ohio. Living in these things, you pick up the subtle differences.
No shower tonight, but no rain tomorrow. Deal or no deal? Oh, I don't have a choice. I'll take it.
Still living life day by day with a beard and no underwear. By the way, there are hills in eastern Kansas (the Flint Hills). You might not remember them in a car, but you certainly do on a bicycle.