DAY 2: Rain and hills

Winchester, VA - Oakland, MD : 105 miles. Total: 178 miles


Today is going to hurt, I know it. Fine by me. I don’t mind hills. I have a good relationship with hills. Downhill...not so much.

I am looking at the map and I realize that it will be a major effort today; I will deal with some of the steepest climbs in the East Coast. My mind races back to last year when I crossed the Appalachians on the GAP. That was beautiful and…easy! This time I am not on a rails-to-trails by any stretch of my imagination, this time I will ride on Highway 50, one of the very few direct routes which crosses the Allegheny Front. The Allegheny Front is a steep escarpment created by intense erosion. It is a wall of rock that rises almost vertically if it weren’t for a mass of trees and green bushes that cover its intimidating rises. However, unlike the more forested Appalachians to the South, the cliff tops here are exposed and offer great overlooks. Not that it will help my climb but at least it will offer some scenic rest stops during the ride. I know that once I crest the Ridge the worst of the Appalachians will be behind me.

I wake up feeling an uneasiness right in the pit of my stomach. I think it is because I never like the beginnings. And this is the beginning of a crazy, unpredictable journey of thousands of miles. It’s been a long wait and now it is happening. I am in a hotel room with a few clothes and the bicycle, Washington DC is already behind me. Home is far from here. Not in terms of miles.

I stretch my legs in the silent hotel room still totall shrouded in the 6am sleepy haze, as I get dressed I try to shake off the feeling of “Oh my God, it is happening”. It works.

I go downstairs to have breakfast and the weather forecast coming loud and clear from the TV shuts down any lingering feelings of excitement I might have: storms, rain, showers, water coming down from the heavens all over the place. Great! This is a promising start to my first full day. I figure I need a 120 miles+ day today. I want to ride as much as I can and land somewhere well past the middle of the Appalachians, Morgantown would do. As I charted the course on the map last night it looked at least 130 miles away from Winchester. With the Allegheny front; lots of hills in between and now with this gloomy weather forecast it is all up in the air. Literally! Where will I be tonight? I don't carry any camping equipment so I need to be in a hotel-serviced town. Don't think about tonight, think about one mile at the time, one town at the time. Get out of this hotel, it is not raining now, make the most of it, let's go. 

It is only the second day of the tour and the relatively short ride yesterday didn’t really do anything to put a dent in my physical condition. I know I am well trained. Despite some dips in my motivation, I spent the last 2 months preparing my body for this challenge, rigorously and patiently. I am confident that unless I incur in an out-of-the blue injury it will be a few hundred miles at least before my energy levels start to wane. The mind? You can't never prepare that well enough.

After a continental breakfast at the hotel I ride out of town on Highway 50, which takes me most of the way well into West Virginia.  I have archaically hacked together a route West, courtesy of google maps: west-north-west-north again- east for a bit-west, seem like directions out of a maze; it is my way west through the back roads of West Virginia. Highway 50 is not a pleasant option but it is the most direct way west. For most of the morning I cycle side by side, a few inches away from whizzing cars and trucks. The shoulder is a faint white line which creates a separation between the vehicle lane and a space of about two feet where I am supposed to ride my bicycle. I had thought that if I started early I can get jump on the traffic. Not really. Most cars go into the oppostie direction, they go into Winchester but I still feel the air moving and swriling next to me every time a car or a truck fly by. How much do I have on highway 50? I figure about 60 miles. I actually don’t mind having to focus on the traffic; it kind of incentivizes me to haul ass up the recurring hills as fast as I can so I can be done with H50.

Despite having to struggle to keep my front wheel away from the vehicles lane I look around me and absorb the scenery. I ride through an extremely bucolic setting, with well-kept farms, winding roads that depart from the highway at every turn or it seems and trees and wide grass fields all over. Huge hay bales catch my eyes and the line of green trees is interrupted only by the farm ho/use or the mound which forms the base of the hills. After 30 miles a tall hillcrest surges in front of me and I know I better shift into low gear to climb it. The going gets tough. The Appalachians welcome me with a smile. I smile back. I ride under an incredibly grey sky but for the first 60 miles the storm holds off. At times it is so dark that I must take the sunglasses off to see clearly. The top of the hills are constantly shrouded in the mist, which thickens as I gain elevation. By the time I reach the foothills of the Allegheny Ridge, the sky is darker than my hands and I know full well what's coming. I still take on the steep 5 mile climb, which proves to be a tough one. In a heartbeat it is pissing cats and dogs and in about three minutes all my gear is totally soaked. Even my phone. Luckily all my other valuables are wrapped in a two plastic bags and they are safe. It rains so hard that from the mountain comes down a river. Visibility is way low and the passing vehicles splash me mercilessly. this is dangerous, I find an abandoned house and I take shelter under the porch. water drips down my arms, my hands, my helmet, my shoes. The storm stops after 20 minutes or so but when it abates it never really ceases completely. It rains on and off for the next 15 miles. I am so wet that it doesn't even matter anymore.

The good news today is that I am supposed to be meeting my friend Rick from Cumberland. I met Rick last year on my LLS cross country ride and we rode together a blissful 70 miles or so from Cumberland to Confluence on the wonderful Great Allegheny Passage. Rick is 58 years old and is an amazing rider.  He is the kind of man that you would want with you if you were stuck in the desert with no water. He is resourceful and no matter what happens he has your back. He rides with me from Kitzmiller to Oakland, where we find a bike shop to fix my chain which is being sluggish on account of the rain we think, the chain won't switch into the small ring. By the time we get to the the bike shop, 7 miles east of Oakland I am utterly spent. I have 98 miles in my legs, I am soaked to my core, I haven't felt any blood circulation in my feet for at least three hours and feet and hands are so drenched that I am wondering whether the skin is about to peel off at any time.

Rick and I part ways, he makes the ride back to Kitzmiller and I press on to Oakland; he has helped me with the chain problem, he has booked for me a motel room in town and when I get there the room has already been paid for. What a gentleman he is. He drove all the way from Cumberland to see me, rides with me and helps me get a roof over my head. Thanks friend. I look forward to seeing you again very soon.

By the time I enter Oakland the rain shows up again but I manage to get to the motel just in time. I take the longest hot shower ever and with a discouraging feeling of dampness right in my bones I roll into bed to write about the day. My legs feel tired but i know they will recover for tomorrow.  My spirits took a beating with the storm and the chain problem. Rick, however, told me that the worst of the hills is behind. There are still several hills ahead but they are not as bad as the Allegheny Ridge. This prospect improves my mood. I am behind schedule. Without the rain I could have made it to Morgantown probably. So change of plans, it all depends on what the weather brings tomorrow. The chain still feels very rough so I want to stop at the bike shop in Morgantown. After that I don't know what is going to happen. I have to scratch my original plan of reaching Cambridge, Ohio on day 3. it ain't gonna happen. It is way out of reach now. I will find something. I'll adjust.

I wake up and take a peek outside the window: this is promising.

Highway 50 and the morning traffic going into Winchester

The road rises up gently towards the Appalachians

A thick mist is waiting for me

After 30 miles I enter West Virginia, the skly darkens but and no rain yet..

Not a happy face, I have a feeling I am about to get soaked

Romney, WV

A creek runs under Highway 50

There are a few spectators out today

The road gets steeper and the weather is brewing

Through the fog I make out the line of the Allegheny Ridge, that's my climb



 

As I start the ascent the rain comes out to keep me company

It is so strong that I must stop before all my gear gets messed up

Guess what river this is? The Potomac

Waiting for the rain to stop, as I said...not a happy face

Finally the rain stops and from the top of the hills the sky clears and I can look back. This is where I came from, 95 miles

With Rick at the bike shop near Oakland

Here is Rick just before we tackle a hill together out of Kitzmiller

As I take my clothes off at the motel I am checking to see if my skin is still on. My hands have been soaked in rain almost 5 hours. 

My home for the night

The scenery from my motel window in Oakland. 

DAY 1: One mile at a time

Washington DC - Winchester, VA : 73 miles

Today is the first day of my bike journey across America -and down the coast of California. I will be back. I promise.

I spend most of the night tossing and turning in my bed thinking “Tomorrow is the day, tomorrow is the day” until I finally drift off to sleep. I wake up a few hours later to a gloomy day and a sky that threatens rain. The weather forecast last night had me worried: 60% chance rain and scattered storms around the DC area. That's great, good start.

I take a cool shower which soothes my body and wakes up my muscles and I wear clean, soft clothes. As I get dressed I realize that it will be a long time before I will feel this fresh, homey feeling again. I get dressed and I have a bowl of oatmeal with two bananas for breakfast. My friend Kim comes to see me off. How kind of her to drive all the way from Annapolis. Thanks Kim!!! We take a few good-bye pictures, I breathe deeply, I tighten the straps of my helmet and I am off. 5000 miles in front of me, the whole of America: the Appalachians, the Midwest, the Great Plains, the Rocky Mountains, the deserts, the Pacific Highway. I try not to think about it, it overwhelms me. Let's focus on this first day. 

After I leave my building, I immediately cross the Potomac which heralds my arrival in Virginia, the first state of my bike ride, and then the first river, the first bridge, the first of many straits of this country that I will come across over and over again in the next 40 days. Once I enter Virginia I smile to myself thinking “Come on, one down and only 14 to go before I roll into LA”!

If it wasn't for the amazing network of bike trails that intersect and clasp the urban sprawl of the Capital, riding out of DC would be a total nightmare. However, the Washington & Old Dominion trail is a wonderful option: it is mile after mile of a pleasant trail which I share with a few joggers and fewer cyclists at this time of a Wednesday morning. It is usually packed with users. The trail, a 45.5-mile long fully paved rails-to-trails, cuts right through the urban areas encroaching on what used to be the rural expanses of Loudon County. The railway operated from 1860 until 1968, when it was torn out and the right of way was used for power lines and the multi-use path.

I cycle cautiously as the first part of the trail through Arlington is somewhat narrow. For the first ten miles I must pay heed to the signs as the WOD intersects a number of other trails. Through Arlington and Vienna, the bike lane runs past neatly trimmed lawns and bushes of elegant houses which dot the reassuring suburbs of Washington DC. It runs under the beltway as it heads toward Leesburg and after that, it is 35 miles of a long and straight well-paved path, hassle-free. It is deceiving because the trail looks level but it is not. It is actually uphill from DC to mile 38 at Clark’s Gap.

Since today is the first day of my journey and I have about 70 miles to cover, I decide to take it easy and ride at a leisurely pace. The funny thing is that I feel pretty good and over 73 miles I stop only once to allow myself a granola bar and that's it. I drink plenty though. Winchester is a necessary stop as I won’t find motels for at least 80 miles after that. Today’s early finish will give me a chance to rest and update the journal.

Riding the trail reminds me of the incredible speed of urban development around Washington DC, from Arlington to Leesburg it is all residential and commercial developments, right up to the path. It spares no town: Falls Church, Vienna, Reston, Herndon, Sterling, Ashland, and Leesburg. Just before the Western end of the trail in Purcellville, I ride a short but beautiful couple of miles under a canopy of leafy branches which keep the sunlight and the heat away.

Past Purcellville I switch to highway cycling, which takes a little getting used to. I realize that the trail has spoiled me with no traffic to worry about. I have no choice but to ride on the incredibly busy highway 7, a high traffic road with a non-existent shoulder. It is a relatively short ride- only 15 miles- but still stressful nonetheless. It is pretty much a “just-ride, head-down” type of shot as I make sure that my wheels are well inside the one ft space that exists between the white line and a patch of gravel. In Berryville I lose the highway and ride on an empty stretch of rural road which takes me very quickly into Winchester. The last 20 miles are very pleasant and luckily the sky turns blue and the heavy clouds disperse rather quickly. As I ride the last few miles I still have a tingling in my stomach from all the excitement, I have been thinking about this trip for many months now and for many years I have been daydreaming about some of the places that I will see. I try to push these thoughts out of my mind and focus on the job at hand. But it is just amazing; I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else now.

I arrive at my destination at 4 PM.  This undemanding day and the early finish give me plenty of time to chill and have dinner somewhere. I haven't eaten much today but tonight I spotted a very inviting burger joint. Winchester has a pretty pedestrian mall in the old town which sports a historic courthouse and a few other things. It’s clean and attractive; the streets are lined with red-brick two story houses and fresh flowers stick out of vases that hang from street lamps. Except the 15 miles on highway 7, it’s been a good first day with no surprises; the weather has been kind and the bike felt very smooth. Yesterday Cyclelife in Georgetown extolled a very hefty sum from me so I was expecting an excellent performance today. I must say that the bike did not disappoint. I will have an early night, the alarm goes off at 6:00 am in the morning; tomorrow I will tackle some of the steepest climbs of the East Coast, it will be no picnic. And it will be a long day. The first real test. Bring it on.

I am good to go 

My dear friend Kim came to see me off, what a wonderful surprise! 

 10:09 AM, I am off, LA here I come!

Crossing the Theodore Roosevelt Memorial Bridge, the first of many

 I leave behind a gray, rainy DC guarded by two of its most popular monuments: Lincoln Memorial and the Washington Monument

On the Curtis Trail, which is empty at 10:30 AM on a Wednesday  

The Capital's suburbs  

After 4 miles I find the WOD trail 

The WOD cuts right through the heart of Loudoun County

Along the WOD 

An out-of-use locomotive 

A pretty mural at Vienna 

How long before you figure this one out?  

Scene from the morning ride on the WOD, not a soul in sight 

The WOD hugged by trees, approaching Leesburg 

A WOD mile marker 

My favorite part of the WOD is between Leesburg and Purcerville  

The canopy of leafy trees enveloping the WOD 

The end (or the west trailhead) of the Washington & Dominion Trail, what a great start to my ride

Highway 7, a 15 mile ride which got me worried more than once..as you can see the shoulder is almost non-existent

But at Berryville I take an alternative road, which turns to be a very enjoyable ride in a rural setting

A few miles south of Winchester 

The Courthouse, downtown Winchester 

The Pedestrian area 

I have a feeling I know where I'll eat tonight..

My home for the night. I go for luxury and comfort, there will be plenty of chances out West to shack it up at cheap places (or out in the open)

-1

Hips parallel to the ground; arms slightly bent; loose shoulders; firm wrists; don’t thrust your feet down, just let 'em glide through the air with a gentle but compact motion which springs from your hips; relax the neck, relax your face. I have practiced this posture a thousand times in my mind. If I could be awarded miles for every time I have imagined my cycling action I’d have circumvented the globe a few times over by now.

Riding a bicycle is all about finding the point of balance, once you have that you can’t fall. It’s not positive thinking; it’s physics. 

Cycling 140 miles a day everyday for 40 days is not about physics. To a considerable extent it is about fitness, but for the most part it is about the mind. And then throw in a bit of luck – or timing.  If you can’t outmuscle your opponent, then try to outwit it. Your opponent is always stronger than you, so if you can’t beat him let him beat himself.

Apart from his own inner demons, a cyclist’s only enemy is the wind. How to outwit it? I have no idea.  Time to go.

 That's all my gear (I forgot to add the waterproof jacket)

 

 Armadillo tires, hopefully they will keep punctures away for a while

 New tires! Will they get me all the way to LA? We shall see

 Clean cassette and new chain

The bicycle, stripped down

-3: The two landmarks that bookend my ride

From here...

 

...to there.

-10

I want to thank the people that are supporting this cause. It is still 10 days to go to Day 1 and we have raised more than half the amount. I am so proud of that. These donations provide the financial base for Charity:Water to implement its clean water program in Rwanda and they give me an invaluable mental boost to kick ass on the road! So thank you all for the continued support. Friends are worried about my safety on the road but they have all been understanding and supportive and nobody has shown their disapproval. I appreciate their concern but I hope that they understand that an achievement of this kind does not come without a small amount of risk. I, for one, will do everything I can to minimize it.
 
The weather has been pretty mild these past few days, which gave me a chance to train almost as much as I would have liked. I have not done any long shakedown rides (longest ride so far: 90 miles); my training has been based on speed and pace rather than distance. I hope that with strong legs I will be able to build stamina as I go.

I have been thinking about equipment and on a road bike this is a no brainer. I will carry with me as little as possible. You would be amazed at how few items I will have on the trip. What I don’t carry from Washington DC I will buy along the way, like warm clothes for the cold temperature of the mountains.

Cycling from one coast of the US to the other is a unique adventure. This is stating the obvious of course. But everything that one would come to expect from an adventure of this magnitude more or less comes pass. I urge anyone who has a tingle of restlessness or a little curiosity brewing inside, to lose themselves in the enormity of the country. What fascinates me about the US is not only the geographical space but also the social landscape which offers unique perspectives on life. When life cannot provide answers, the road will.

And then there is the bike. The bike has no windshield, there’s no protection, and it is a face-to-face encounter with the world. On the bicycle you are exposed to anything. On the bicycle, life is absorbed through the senses and nothing is filtered or adulterated. On the bicycle, if it rains or it if gets cold you can’t roll up the window, you just have to buckle down and take it. On the bicycle, to make it safely to your destination, you must improvise. My favorite days are the tough ones: when I end the day with dust in my mouth and ears, with the skin on my neck and legs burning hot from hours of lovemaking with America. This is what traveling by bicycle is to me: lovemaking with the country in its purest and most sincere form; a skin to skin contact that cannot be had otherwise. But to do that you have to exit your comfort zone, you have to suffer a little. You’ve got to leave stuff behind.
 
I'm not worried about the ridiculously steep hills, the heat and humidity, the angry and inbred dogs, the long mountain passes, or the threat of being run over by a distracted driver. I can handle the pain, the mechanical problems, the long days in the saddle, the blisters in weird places, the ridiculous tan lines, the month-long numbness in my toes or the mountain weather. I am just really worried about one thing: the wind. If you are not a cyclist you will never understand what a headwind really is.

So here’s a few ground rules which I tend to follow on and off the saddle.

Rule number 1: if you like the water, go for a swim
Rule number 2: Wear sunscreen, you need protection.
Rule number 3: Don’t take things too seriously, only the headwind is a serious thing.

-20

Posing with the bike

 

 

 With Grace from Charity:Water, at C:W's New York office

 Inspiring words on the wall at C:W's headquarters

 

 

In case there was ever any doubt (@ C:W's) 

The wall atlas shows all the countries that C:W works with

-30: Thoughts

Only 30 days to go. A month, just over 4 weeks before I set out on my bicycle ride across the United States. My route will take the shape of an 'arc' from East to West before it descends in a straight line, along the coast of California, to the City of Angels.

I am going to cycle 5000 miles in under 40 days: it is easy writing this sitting at home with a t-shirt and in my underwear. And yet much of the suffering that comes with this goes unnoticed and unspoken of. The long hours on the bike with fingers and toes gone numb, the hum of the wheels and the chain, the lonely bird that takes flight as I whizz by its resting place; the walk up to front desk in the motel with my legs a paste of grease and sweat and my face a shameful mess in the hope that the man will quickly say to me “we do have a room”; the confused thoughts swirling in my head as I lay in bed with my muscles still warm and my legs still going unable to fall asleep with the awareness that in 8,7, now 6 hours I will have to be up for another 100 miles+ day on the road hoping that the wind will subside and that the rain will stay away..

I never ride the bike just to ride. The bicycle for me is a means to explore, to travel at my own pace. I’m not a bicycle freak, I’m not a cyclist. But now that I have my body and mind wrapped around this crazy mission I feel like one. However, truth be told: I can’t even remember how many times while I was on the road last year on my 2012 Relentless For a Cure ride I swore that I would never ride my bicycle again, let alone contemplating another cross-country ride.  When I reached Vancouver I said to myself “I am not gonna to put myself through this again, I’m done”. But, as with most things in life, time distorts memories. It gets all sappy and romantic. And so, these past months, every time I walked into the common room in the office where I work, I would throw a defiant glance at the big World Map on the wall. Every time the itch grew stronger. And so, by the end of April, I had made up my mind. One more time, one more dance. Maybe a little tougher this time; maybe a little longer. Why not?

The continuous stress and strain of 35 straight days of rigorous discipline will lead to some “side-effects”: excitement tapers off, expectations dampen, self-doubt and even fear emerge, and when that happens it is only a matter of time before the energy saps away. So how do I fend off against this? My strategy involves saving the best bits for the latter part of the journey; doing a fundraising that I believe in; and asking friends to support me along the way. Is that enough? Of course not. But I’ll take my chances.

As anyone who's been on the road for more than a month will tell you, the great joy of a long road trip is the anticipation, the wait before the actual journey. And now that I am one month away from day 1 of 5000 miles for water my imagination is set ablaze by images and day dreams of what the trip will actually be like. It's the best excitement I can think of, an adrenaline rush which disarms my senses, a sense of expectation in its purest, most childish form, in other words: I can't freaking wait! Yes I cannot even wait for the pain which will come with it: the eastward wind, the blustery conditions, the rain, the early morning cold of the mountains, the shoulderless highways, the trucks whizzing by me which make one second last like a lifetime, the sweet loneliness of solo traveling, the longing for familiar things, the people you meet going the opposite direction, the sweat, the middle of nowhere sunsets, the empty sky, the promise of an immortal landscape behind the next hill. The sense of possibility.

I have done it before, I have cycled across the US before and I am fully aware that I can control only a tiny slice of what's head, much is left to luck or chance. Or God, if you are into that. 5000 miles in under 40 days is insane, impossible for me, cocky, superficial, futile, forgettable. Maybe. All I know is that I am on the verge of another big dream coming true. This is all I need to know.

4 more weeks of training. Feeling strong.