Waiting Game

Today marks two weeks since we rolled over The Bridge of Lions, onto Anastasia Boulevard in the rain, and then to Anastasia State Park to officially mark the end of the 2013 Southern Tier Bike Ride.  Over those two weeks I feel as though I have been playing a waiting game: waiting to see the dentist and have my bad tooth removed, waiting to have Mom do the same, waiting for the pre-op examinations by my family doctor and orthopedic surgeon, waiting for 0945 the morning of May 22^nd.  Perhaps most of all, waiting for myself to attain a new, or perhaps renewed sense of normal.

For two months I wore three biking outfits, two pair of jeans, a skirt, and a couple of tops. And it was fine. I do need a bit more variety, however. During the ride I had lots of time to think how I need to downsize my junk. To that end I threw out 4 bags of stuff, mostly from my bedroom closet earlier this week. I have started, but have not been able to finish, doing the same in the sewing room.

I have seen some, but not all of my friends, and have returned to my beloved church choir. Karen, Alice and I took Mom to a wonderful restaurant on the water for a lovely lunch on Saturday May 11^th. In 1947 the 11^th of May was Sunday, Mother’s Day, and Mom spent much of that day trying to convince someone—anyone—that she was not experiencing false labor. I was born right around 0130  the following morning. So we were also celebrating my 66^th birthday. A non-event  as far as I was concerned. My wonderful children gave me a florist’s bouquet of tulips in yellow and lilac, congratulating  me for my birthday, Mother’s Day, and THE RIDE.

But my birthday was also filled with sorrow as I learned a former colleague and dear friend–a woman who I coached through at least one labor and who has helped coach countless  young women and men become nurses lost her battle with lung cancer. Rest in God’s love Kathy Steph.

My fellow riders and I have exchanged e-mails. Many of us have gotten our bikes back. (Mine is at Pappa Wheelies, but has yet to be repaired.) Everyone–and their bikes–seem to have gotten home in one piece, with just a minimum of maintenance. I am getting used to making my side of the bed (his and her duvets) every morning, though I still have piles of laundry to do. I don’t need a cue sheet to tell me where to go or what to do, although, like my fellow rider Jan, I find myself paying more attention to the pavement on the side of the road than to the car in front of me.

So why I am still feeling out of sorts? I have decided it is because I don’t know what to do with myself in the evenings. On the ride we finished dinner and our cue sheet meeting around seven Afterward, I had about two hours to get ready for the following morning, write my blog entry, and get ready for bed. At home I have no particular order in which I must proceed. There are few things I must do. If I want, I can stay up until 0100 and sleep in, not that I have. When the alarm goes off in the morning I can languish, listening to the morning disc jockeys describe the traffic in the towns nearest me.

And so it is the evenings that unsettle me. I have watched more hockey (Bruins, of course) than I have watched in decades. I have read some really fabulous books, but just can’t seem to get into them. Carl Hiaason has a new book about mayhem in Florida coming out. But not until June. I need it now. Inferno? Only if I get desperate. Dan Brown is actually a local boy made good, which I greatly admire, but the writer in me…

And so I am playing a waiting game. Waiting to see my friend Ruth so we can discuss what kind of changes I need to make to my own book, waiting for my new knee, waiting to get on a bike every day no matter what, and perhaps most of all: just waiting to feel like me.

Re-entry

Friday was a bittersweet day as those of us staying at the Best Western bid each other farewell. But first, we watched one last time as Carol and Linda loaded bikes on top of the van. Torrential rain still beat down on St Augustine, making the process more difficult. Fortunately, the hotel had a large enough portico that Carol could park the van underneath, giving her some protection from the elements. Once we said our final good-byes,  Jim and I slogged through rain soaked streets–water ankle deep in some places–to the Spanish Quarter where we found one breakfast place open. Its specialty: waffles. What else! But they also had a very nice egg, bacon, and cheese sandwich with both hollandaise sauce and ketchup that filled me up and fulfilled my need to eat something other than hotel food.

There has been flooding all over St Augustine and St John’s County so many of the local parks were closed for the day. So were many roads. With this in mind Jim and I headed to the Jacksonville Airport at 1130. Yes, we would have a long wait for our flight–and who knew if it would be on time–but the appeal of getting out of the rain and perusing airport shops won over finding the shrine dedicated to Our Lady of L Leche in the rain.

It was nearly midnight when I went to bed Friday, and I crawled under my comforter in the dark. So, Saturday morning I awoke to another surprise. While I was gone Jim redecorated our bedroom. Gone: the 80s wallpaper and the stained curtains. In their place lovely cream colored walls, new, in-style duvet covers, and pretty curtains. What’s more Jim even meticulously cleaned and repaired the angel grapevine leaf hanging on one of the walls. This old wreath has seen better days, but it was made by my sister Susie, who died in 1993. When I see it I always think of her.

It is Tuesday as I write this and so far my re-entry has gone about as expected. I’ve seen family, heard my chorus sing in a mini-concert, and bought a new computer. I’ve managed to put my cross country pictures on the computer but not to organize them. I even saw the periodontist and had my bad tooth extracted. A good thing too, it needed to come out before the knee replacement surgery two weeks from tomorrow.

Returning to my normal sleep pattern–none of this up at 0600 thank-you very much–has been more difficult than I imagined. And I’ve had strange dreams. In almost all of them I am somewhere on a bike…I wake up with a mix of sadness and relief when I remember I don’t actually have to tug on bike shorts, a sports bra, and top, nor do I have to tie a pair of shoelaces six times so they won’t get undone and wrap themselves around the crank. And I must admit I am a little lonely, too. For once, in the spring of 2013 I rode across the United States, half by bicycle, half in a van with 29 other like minded adventurous women. And while I am only now beginning to consider what all the lessons of the trip might be, I know for certain I shall never be the same.

PS. I am going to continue writing this blog as I begin a new journey toward new knees. Feel free to continue following me. Or not. One way or another, thanks for reading.

St Augustine: here we are!

This morning we were able to leave the motel as early as 0630. Linda didn’t bother putting out peanut or almond butter, just M&Ms, dried fruit, and Gatorade. Most people are too nervous to eat much on this our final day.

Since we could leave early we were up early, most of us by 0530. The hotel waffle seemed especially rubbery, but I choked it down together with a couple of mouthfuls of scrambled eggs and a single sausage link.

By 0615 Moira, the SAG driver, Carol, and I had the SAGGING bikes firmly attached to the roof rack. And off we went. By 0815, when the slowest of the riders finished with us at the first SAG stop, and we could move on to the Fire Station I knew I could have ridden those 40 miles. But when the riders began to appear–some of them as early as 0940–I heard many reports of riders being chased by dogs.

After my bike was reassembled I decided to ride toward my fellow riders–and discovered I had made the right decision. Less than two miles from the Fire Station I was dogged by a big black hound. Really.

The weather forecast for today was for showers, turning into a steadier rain as the day wore on. One of the advantages of not riding the first 40 miles on the bike was I had a chance to change into my WT bike shirt at the last minute, and so I was both clean and dry when we started toward Anastasia State Park. With sirens blaring the police led us out, in pairs, until we formed a line of 28 women.

Jo was my riding partner, for which I was very grateful. But I had to laugh. Jo never complains about anything, but this morning she kept asking if we were there yet because she was cold.

I thought I would cry as we ascended the Bridge of the Lions and onto Anastasia Boulevard, but I was too busy paying attention to the road, which not only included a drawbridge, but also two sets of railroad tracks. To be honest I had done my crying three nights earlier. It was the tears of a woman who had set out to achieve a seemingly impossible dream and fulfilled it. Now, I was more interested in reaching the park–and seeing Jim.

We riders were greeted by an excited crowd that included spouses, partners, children, parents, and friends. Jim gave me two charms for my Pandora bracelets: each of a bicycle. Then the ceremonial dip in the Atlantic. By then it was raining quite hard, the sand was quite soaked, and my bike will probably need a thorough cleaning–maybe even a new chain or worse. A picnic followed. But the rain had changed from downpour to torrential, so it wasn’t much of a celebration picnic. Instead, we found our beloveds, and then made our way to the hotel.

Riding alone–I was about five minutes ahead of the others who couldn’t fit their bikes into rental cars–I got to the draw bridge just as it was going up. I had to laugh. It seemed fitting I should be stuck on a bridge on the last day. One more thing to slow me down.  It was not possible for me to get any wetter.

And then, suddenly, there was the Best Western Spanish Quarter. And I was done. But not done in. For Jim met me with the best cup of coffee I have had in weeks.

Quincy to Palatka FL. The final miles fly by.

Tonight we are in Palatka, FL. Tomorrow morning one last hotel breakfast, one last opportunity to eat rubbery hotel waffles before the final 48 miles. I have reluctantly decided to SAG the first segment of tomorrow’s ride. All of us are nervous about making it to the fire station where we shall get our police escort for the final eight miles. As the 2013 Southern Tier’s Second Slowest Rider I do not want to be the one holding up the parade. My arms and hands are still quite sore so I make this decision with a full and happy heart.

The last three days have been emblematic of the entire ride. On Monday, I rode a very quick 54 miles with two of the fastest riders. We laughed a lot since they could see just how much a dog magnet I am. And May, who summers in Maine, gave me a wonderful compliment by observing how steady my cadence is. It just needs to be faster.

On Tuesday, our guide Carol rode, too. As she pulled along side me she asked how I was doing. “Dead legs,” was my reply. She blamed it on May and Linda. And so one last trip to the SAG vehicle.

Julie was the SAG driver. We were not quite Thelma and Louise, but she tried. We stopped at a natural spring where she decided to go swimming–in her SAG driver’s skirt and top. Out of the water and ready to roll, we ran into our Yorkshire friend Keith, who we haven’t seen since Navasota, TX. Keith looks even slimmer than he did last time. He had an invitation to dine with us.. It’s someone’s birthday and her menu choice was hotdogs, baked beans, and potato salad. Since this is one of my favorite meals I looked forward to it and was not disappointed.

Last night we were in our last “Mom and Pop” hotel. The room was large enough for three beds, and so I shared the space with Judi from MO, with whom I became friends via e-mail before the ride. My other roommate was Jo for CO, a woman in her early 70s who, early in the tour,  spent quite a bit of time in the van with a pinched nerve in her neck. I have come to admire Jo greatly because she never allowed her days in the van to get her down. And once she was able to start riding again she became a strong and steady rider–just like the woman she is.

Jo is very tall so the WomanTours bike shirt she received in San Diego has never fit her. She sent it home weeks ago, and will wear another bike shirt for the final ride. Because we’ve been asked to wear our WomanTours bike shirts on the last ride  Judi and I decided to try ours on. Both were tight two months and ago and neither of us has worn our shirt since. Hers definitely fit better than it did in March; mine better, too. However, Judi’s comment was I looked like a stuffed sausage rather than an over-stuffed sausage. This got us to giggling like kids at a sleep-over. But we were all tired and in bed asleep by 2115.

I won’t quite hit the 1500 mile mark as I had hoped. I will never know what my precise mileage has been because of problems with my first odometer, and, in a way, I think that’s good. It is enough to say that I crossed half the United States on a bicycle in the spring of 2013 and the other half I crossed in a van (or car) filled with like-minded, determined older women, who have shared this same crazy, sometimes impossible dream with me.

Tonight Linda, our guide and cook, and Carol, our guide and mechanic, have gone all out with their culinary and technical skills to make the evening very special. Because it is spitting rain, Carol set up a tarp between the trailer and the van. Under it, she placed two tables that Linda and her assistant Ann eventually filled with a variety of delicious appetizers. Good cheeses, marinated asparagus, a fine variety of crackers. It was excellent. Then Linda presented us with a meal fit for queens: beautifully roasted beef tenderloin, a delicious quinoa and lentil dish, and  fabulous salad.

Then on to Carol’s final cue sheet/map meeting. We have four hours to bike the 40 miles to St John’s County Fire Station where we are to meet. No one has ever been late. Most everyone has been early. All of us are very nervous. I am still not taking any chances. I still plan to do the first 40 in “Bo Peep,” our Subaru SAG vehicle. I don’t want to meet a flat tire, some dogs. Or both.

the Chatahochee River                                         Gadsden Florida County Courthouse

A decidedly thinner Keith

Day 52. Crawfordville, FL Rest Day and a Dead Computer

Friday and Saturday were fairly typical days for the ride. This part of Florida is hillier than I expected and we have all been stunned to be tooling along to see what appears to be an enormous hill straight ahead. Then the hills disappear with hardly any changes to gears. The hills are like “false flats” in reverse. When we went through the town of Chattahoochee we met a real hill, and I was lucky to be able to climb it on the bike. I did get off and walk the last 50 feet because there was no shoulder and a lot of traffic.

Just before we crossed the river (the Chattahoochee?) we crossed over a bridge called “The Victory.” When I can I will post a picture on Facebook.

Yesterday morning I got up with absolutely dead legs and hands that were still quite sore. But I am determined to get my mileage as close to 1500 as possible so I got on the bike. The first 20 miles were filled with gentle rollers. The second 20 miles were pretty flat. the highlight of the final 10 was stopping at a Super Walmart. Our hotel last night and tonight has a golf course, restaurant, pool and tennis court, but no Sonic, Burger King, or Mom and Pop store for lunch. So people bought a variety of snacks to get us through the day. There were also dresses and hats to be bought! The hotel seems like a pretty place and it actually has good coffee!

Today, many people are taking a van to the Wakulla Nature Preserve and State Park today. I am quite content to check out the hotel pool and eat lunch in the golf course restaurant.

An hour ago I turned on my computer to check my emails and work on blogs to discover that the screen has been damaged in the tossing around of the luggage. It is officially broken. I guess when I get home I will discover the frustrations and joys of Windows 8. Meanwhile, I can still communicate with the outside world on my Kindle or cell phone. Writing a blog might take forever and I know I won’t be able to upload any pictures.

Dogs continue to hound me. Yesterday I passed a road called Jacob’s Dog Pen Road. I passed it in fear. Fortunately there were no dogs. I was not willing to take a chance with my good fortune to stop and take a picture. I am sure more dogs and pictures will follow as the days to the end of the trip roll by.

It is amazing to think we have only four more days of riding. I am ready to see Jim, go home, see Mom and my sisters. For better or worse I hit the ground running with dentist appointments and other committments so I don’t think I will suffer too much from re-entry shock. I’ll post again when I can.

Day 49. Crestville, FL to Marianna, FL. Taking a ride in the van, van. And glad for it.

When I pulled into our hotel yesterday afternoon I could barely move my right hand. I do most of the shifting with my right hand, which is the weaker because I am left handed. So normal wear and tear have been bothering me. Holding onto the handlebars for dear life while being chased by seven 60 lb (or so) dogs didn’t help either. I looked at the mileage for today: 94 miles, and easily decided it would be a day in the van.

I am not the only person on the tour who has had trouble with pain and/or numbness in her hands. Six–seven hours a day with one’s hands firmly planted to handle bars will do that. I do not use dropped handle bars, but have flat ones with upright extenders. I am not sure “drops” would help all that much but touring bike handlebars might.

One of the other nurses in the group and I have decided we probably have some temporary nerve irritation to our ulnar nerves. It really doesn’t hurt so much as it is disconcerting to have four fingers (ring and pinky) a little numb. My orthopedic surgeon gave me a prescription for a strong non-steroidal anti-inflammatory cream for my knees, which I have hardly needed. But it has felt good on my hands.

The morning started out very early. My alarm was set for 0545 but my roommate was awake and turned out the bedside light at 0515. Even if we were riding in the van we seemed to have a long list of things to do to get ready for the day, so I dragged myself out of bed.

In all there were four of us in the van, all experienced riders who tend to be among the slowest. We are also among the oldest and so know our limits. Sore knees and hands, and tired leg muscles were the order of the day. I was not disappointed. I did a mileage check yesterday and I am over 1000 miles. I might not ride every mile. But it still seems amazing to me that I have ridden over 1000 miles in two months.

With a little extra time on my hands I was able to read through some of the finer details of wordpress and thus discovered  your many positive and supportive comments. Jackie M, keep riding. Find some hills, you will need them when you get to Utah. Barb WW. Jeanne T and Marty I owe you emails and will do that when I get home. Jim is meeting me in St Augustine on the 2nd and we are flying home next Friday. No trip to Hampton, I fear. Emily, thanks for following me. I will track you down when I get home. Would love to join a local bike club. And Jay, if you are still following me, I must say meeting you was one of the greatest pleasures of this trip. I will be sending a donation to your organization once I get home.

I loved the elephant jokes, especially those involving peanuts and peanut butter. Van riders sometimes help clean up the snack table after the riders have started out for the day. Let me tell you we are a sloppy group prone to getting peanut butter on everything. It all has to be meticulously cleaned so our guide Linda doesn’t have peanut butter on jelly sticking to every surface of her kitchen. How do you know 27 women eating elephant for dinner are having peanut butter for lunch? Because the peanut butter is everywhere!

I have two requests of Jim when we are in St Augustine: the first, as he knows, is to go to the shrine of Our Lady of La Leche and light a candle in memory of my old friend Gail, who was once Chairman of the Board of La Leche League. The other is to eat breakfast anywhere but a motel. I don’t think I can look many more waffles in the face and I want REAL coffee. Even McDonalds would do, but I would love to find the funky little place where I first tried eggs benedict. It is near St Augustine Beach.

Tomorrow is only 54 miles so the snack table doesn’t go out until 0800. Time for a good snooze. I intend to do all 54 and will take time to exercise my hand as needed.

Day 48. Pensacola, FL to Crestville, FL. Why do dogs chase bikes?

When we left Pensacola this morning I feared I would be bringing up the rear—again. Fortunately, I stayed with the group most of the day. We rode through a lovely part of East Pensacola before crossing the Gulf on the I-90 bridge.

At breakfast my compatriots discovered that my friend Judi from MO, who spent more than 20 years of her career as an Army nurse, and I were both wearing our Army Strong bike shirts. At the first SAG stop several people took pictures of all the girls in pink and another of Judi and me. We both agreed it is one of the more flattering pictures taken of us on the trip.

We biked for about six miles along a bike path in the town of Meridian, FL. Then we were back on back country roads for another 25 or so. Ahead, I could see a group of four riders standing still. Were they checking out the cue sheet or something else? They don’t remember this particular stop in their day, but I surely do, because when I rode by the owner of one of the mobile homes along the way had let out his dogs. At first I thought nothing of it because they seemed to be behind a wire fence. Then one of the dogs got loose, and so the other six followed. I do not think I have ever ridden my bike as hard as I did for the next quarter mile. It wasn’t until a truck coming the other way passed me that the last dog stopped his pursuit.

The remainder of the ride was unremarkable until we got into Crestville. Here we discovered neither of the four lane state roads we were to use had shoulders. By then it was mid-afternoon, traffic was heavy and so many people yelled at me that I had no choice but to ride on the sidewalk. However, I discovered this part of Florida is far from flat, as the accompanying picture demonstrates.

Proof that the panhandle is not flat.               But it is swampy.

Day 47. Dauphin Island to Pensacola, FL. One Last Margarita Party.

Today we crossed into Florida, the final state in our 58 day odyssey , and so, one last time had a Margarita party to celebrate being in another state. We are of mixed feelings about being in Florida: bittersweet that our time together is coming to an end, relief that the riding is (supposedly) easier, happiness that we seem to be out of unkempt dog country, gratitude we have made it thus far, and, finally, longing for home. 

Our day began early. My alarm went off at 0545: time to make the coffee (it was terrible…and I’m the one who bought the stuff,) pull our sheets off our beds, throw towels into the washing machine, empty the trash, start the dishwasher, and eat breakfast. All this before an 0720 departure from our condo complex to the eastern end of Dauphin Island, where we caught a ferry across Mobile Bay. There we passed the biggest natural gas drilling rig in the U.S, which is  owned by Exxon.

The Exxon Natural Gas Rig

Is Susan searching for land or just enjoying the view?

When we arrived, approximately 30 minutes later, at Ft Morgan, AL we were greeted by our old enemy, a very strong headwind. I knew by mile 5 that riding the 60 miles was going to give me nothing but trouble. I could barely keep my speed between 7 and 9 mph, much too slow for a 60 mile day. Moreover, my bicycle seat and my tailbone were boxing and the seat was definitely winning. So when the van rolled by, just before we hit the first rest stop I signaled a need for a ride. 

I am not the only person who needed a ride today. Someone had shoulder problems, a couple of other people needed to get their bikes to the bike shop early, etc, etc.

At noon the van pulled in to tonight’s home away from home: the Solé Inn and Suites in downtown Pensacola. The Inn has been our stopping place for many years on the Southern Tier Tour. We were warmly welcomed, invited to happy hour, and then Amanda, the front desk clerk helped me make decisions about lunch. And an appointment for a pedicure. Somehow , I have wound up with a single again tonight. I wonder if my friend Pat, who left the tour a couple of weeks ago after falling and breaking her elbow, was to have been my roommate. I also am on the ground floor, right in front of the van, which will save me a few minutes tomorrow. The hotel is done up in art deco style.The room is done in black and white, a black toilet, and silver accent pieces.

I met this 14 week old American Bull dog with the unlikely name of Pythagoras outside a coffee shop in Pensacola. The best behaved dog I’ve met in awhile!

Lunch was at the Tin Cow, a cute Art Deco restaurant where one can build her own burger, of beef, chicken, bison, or crab cakes. I chose the crab cakes with a little Cajun mayo on the side and they were terrific. A decent glass of iced coffee at another art deco restaurant helped fill the time before I finally went to Still Waters Salon where I had a pedicure. It feels so nice to have well manicured feet again, even if I still do have a week in which to put them in bike shoes.

The Tin Cow. Notice the ShipYard Brewing umbrella. We must be in the east.

 

Art deco lighting inside the Tin Cow

 

 My room in the Sole Inn.

Day 46. On Dauphin Island. Just What I Needed.

The word for today is leisurely.  We four women sharing a condo all slept beyond 0700. I was the first to stick my head outside my door–to make the coffee, of course. Although I have cut my coffee consumption in half on this trip it is still a necessity each morning.

At 0900 our condo seemed to be WomanTours central. People wandered in and out wondering what the others were doing during the day. The answer was : not much, and I am fine by myself. One of our visitors was Linda from NZ who is a very strong rider. Eventually, she, May, Flo and I sat on May’s bed, me with coffee in hand, discussing training strategies.  These included keeping a steady cadence, and doing interval training to increase one’s overall speed. Although I knew all of these from my reading before the trip, listening to Linda and May talk about them made more sense now then when I was trying to put them into action. Too bad we didn’t have this discussion last fall.

Eventually I toured part of the island. Tomorrow we are on the 0800 ferry from Dauphin Island to Ft Morgan, FL. Although the ferry is a mere 2.5 miles from here the need  be there, in line, ready to board has me just a bit anxious. So I did a test run. It took me 16 minutes at a very slow speed. I am packed except for the clothes on my body and the clothes I intend to wear tomorrow. Breakfast is at 0645. It will be an early start to the day.

Dolphins welcoming us to Dauphin Island.

Hibiscus outside the island’s gift shop.

Day 45. Moss Point, MS to Dauphin Island, AL. A Leisurely Sunday Ride.

Today may very well have been the nicest day thus far on the ride. It was such a short ride, 44 miles from hotel to hotel, with a rest day to follow, that we didn’t even have our map meeting until the extraordinary late hour of 0830. (We’ll make up for it on Tuesday.)

There was no mad dash to get our peanut butter sandwiches made and get out the door. I left in the middle of the pack. Within a couple of miles, I was riding with a group that included Dolly from Indiana. She is an intrepid rider, and a curious person who loves to meet new people and learn about the places where we ride. When we hit construction traffic, Dolly stayed behind, sweeping us along, protecting us from Sunday drivers who might not have been paying attention to the women on bikes–most all of whom were wearing some shade of neon yellow.

Eventually I settled into a comfortable speed with Flo, who can out-pace me, but who has a problem with her bike, slowing her down. At the midway point Carla was there to greet us with fruit and fresh water.

As we rode past more churches I couldn’t help but laugh at the sign posted outside one: Open between Easter and Christmas. Jim has sometimes joked about that! In Bayou La Batre–yes Forest Gump’s Bayou La Batre– we saw shrimp boats…and then finally, after a few more miles of riding the 3.5 mile long bridge over Mobile Bay and on to Dauphin Island.

Only one more state to go!

Tonight and tomorrow we are staying at condos at the Dauphin Island Beach Club. They are right on the Gulf of Mexico. There are four of us in three bedrooms, and each bedroom has its own bath. It was wonderful to sit on our porch, glass of wine in hand, and feel cool breezes off the Gulf.