Spoiled goats and other oddities up north

As each day begins, I think there couldn't possibly be anything new or interesting to see. We're just cycling again, right? But the fun part is that each day has offered something surprising and unexpected. Some of it can be captured with a photograph. Way too much can't be recorded at all. Some things are just too sudden and unexpected, like the bunny that raced out in front of David's bike today, looked up to see a bike coming, leaped about four feet into the air, and raced back into the woods. It was pretty funny to watch, as long the bunny wasn't harmed and made it safely back to its bunny friends to tell the tale.

Kids will be kids

Other things can be recorded with a picture. As we rode past a farm this morning not long into the trip, we looked up and spotted these goats, who seem to have the run of the yard, complete with their own playground equipment. Well, maybe it's not theirs, but they certainly act as though it were. Not knowing the full story can sometimes be as fun as knowing it. You can create your own explanations. It makes me wonder how much we miss as we focus on getting up a hill or down a rough road.

The ride today was only 40 miles, but “only 40 miles” seemed like a lot more, and my goal today, besides finishing the ride, was not to be a whiner. I don't know about David, but I had not fully recovered from yesterday's long ride. My body was tired, so it was a challenge at times, particularly when we found ourselves going uphill. As we neared our destination, though, we talked about those hills. You can see a hill rising from a long way away at times, and one thing we've noticed is that they always appear more challenging from a distance than they really are when you're working your way up them. I'm sure there's a metaphor about life in there that doesn't require explanation, so I'll leave it there.

looks like it's seen better days

I came across another lost sole today that ought to be acknowledged and cataloged, and so I took a picture. There are also many lost and mate-less socks lying along the road, and I realized that they have a story worthy of telling, even if I haven't been taking pictures. Perhaps there's an explanation here for what happens to all those socks that seem to make their way into the washer and dryer, but never make it back out. I can't tell you how they get there, but I suspect those found on the side of the road could tell you if they could talk.

Freeport, a creepy ghost town

About 9 miles before the end of the ride, we stopped in a creepy little town called Freeport. We picked up some cold drinks and consumed them in the shade, but I couldn't help but notice how like a ghost town the place appeared. Riding through the neighborhoods to leave Freeport, I was struck with the same feeling. There were very few people out and about. No buzzing of lawn mowers could be heard. It was eerily quiet. I never found out where all the people were. I was too busy trying to get my legs to go again. I felt dizzy from the heat and fatigue, so when David told me we had nine miles left, it sounded like a long way. I was grateful that it was nine instead of the original 30 it was supposed to be.

A sermon about cycling 

About three miles outside of Hastings, we passed this sign. I guess we missed the sermon that was clearly meant for us. I imagined sitting in the congregation raising my hand to ask questions about how to handle muscle fatigue, and what about neck and hand pain?

We've completed 273 miles. In the next two days we'll complete the 80-90 miles that remain to get us home. At the end of the day, David asked me if I had two days left in me. Absolutely. I refuse not to.

Our motel room was tastefully decorated, no?  

This inspiring artwork was used to decorate our motel room.  It really makes me want to get up in the morning and ride a bike.