The water at the Bait shop smells of rust and is bad. Last time Andrea went out to buy a gallon of drinking water, this time she was tired and said she'd do it later in the morning... And I wanted an early start to my day since I had a long ride ahead of me. Besides that, I was losing an hour as I crossed back into Arizona.
Unfortunately I forgot to calculate that in when I emailed Phyllis about what time I hoped to be there. The library would be closed with the holiday Monday and I needed to have the gate opened so I could get in.
So instead of 8 hours to ride the 143 remaining Km's I only had 7 hours...which wouldn't have been so bad except this time I had more elevation and a head/crosswind.
There wasn't much I could do about it except pedal and try not let the pressure get to me.
My body was sore, tired from the previous day's of riding which made it more challenging again.
Definitely an ibuprofen kind of day.
The sun was out but it was cool, which was actually nice, especially on the interstate.
It wasn't a very fun or interesting ride, it was just something I needed to do.
I realized how differently people can approach bike touring, how some ride till they get tired and then proceed to find a place to sleep. I seem to set a goal, plan ahead a bit more, and then go for it, push myself to go beyond what I feel like doing.
I listened to music to help, using it as something of a crutch to help me along... Until something lost power.
I stopped briefly to eat the last of my focaccia bread and a tangerine.
Went through the tiny town of Hope, where the sign as you leave reads "You are now beyond hope"! Sobering thought.
Hope plays into so much. Without it who has the will to go on? I suppose it's interesting to figure out exactly where we are placing our hope...
Today I prayed God would help me to accomplish what I had set out to do, and realized if I was going to get to Agulia it would have to be with his help, because I was struggling.
And you know, his grace was sufficient and his power made perfect in weakness. It's like when you come to the end of yourself, your strength, your ability to control... That's when he can show how great and good he is, how gracious he can be.
I began to feel a bit more of a tailwind as the road gently curved up and the pavement improved so I wasn't clunking over strips of tar, and things looked up.
Giving up isn't an option, but it's just hard going on when it never seems to end, the discomfort.
I looked forward to being able to have a day off the bike.
I looked forward to the end of the discomfort.
I began to pass the time by reflecting on what I was thankful for.
Reflecting on how sanity is a matter of having the strength and resilience to go on, which means it's contrary to people thinking what I do is insane or crazy. Perhaps I'm proving my sanity through enduring?
Just because something is hard doesn't mean it's crazy to get out and face it.
Not all days are hard, but I'm worn.
I got to the gate after 7 hours of riding, and I saw Phyllis in the distance, riding to meet me and open the gate, and I felt relief and gratitude.
It felt good to return to a home I'd been to before, to be around people I had already made acquaintance with.
It felt good to infuse myself with my bike and to take a shower.
So tire, but relieved.
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- Eritia
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