Hands in My Pocket

I knew all about the Appalachians in the east, and have heard countless stories on the Rocky Mountains out west. Everything in between, I was told, will be flat, a piece of cake and the time to chill and roll. But out of nowhere, there came the Ozarks.

Steep rolling hills (much steeper than my legs would like them to be). Riding through Missouri's Ozark Mountains was like a self-propelled roller coaster ride. If you are able to gain enough momentum coming down from the last hill, you may have 80% of the next hill cut out for you, if not, well then see ya at the top in 10 min. Although the Appalachians required much more endurance at a time, the Ozarks were unexpected and mentally challenging. Hill after hill, I kept wondering when this was going to be over and why these hills were even here. It took 3 days to get through the hills and I consider some of those days to be the most difficult ones yet (mentally, at least).

During the early days of this trip, I remember experiencing a moment where it felt like I was going up a wall. I fought and pedalled with every bit of energy I had. My lungs were heaving for air, and my hands were gripping tightly. I stared at the ground, not daring to see how much higher I had to climb. It was difficult. It sucked butter. It made me want to sit at the side of the road and take a nap. Then I recalled having brought my ipod along. I snatched it out of my bag for the first time and turned it on shuffle. And the next bit was magic. Flowing into my ears and right to my brain, came... Alanis Morisette's "Hands in My Pocket" (don't judge my style of music, that song may be old school, but it kicks ass)! If you aren't already humming the song, youtube it please, that song saved my butt out in the mountains. My mind was no longer fixated on the hill. I started smiling, singing even and moved up that hill slowly, but surely.

Hills are strenuous, and always will be, but a bit of a musical booster and the freedom to rock out when no one can hear you within a 10 mile radius can help.

"Everythings going to be fine, fine, fine...
Cause I got one hand in my pocket
and the other one is giving a high five."

The Home That Travels With You

Every night I fall asleep to the sound of crickets whistling in the distance. As long as the temperature doesn't reach above 80 degrees, I sleep like a bear, undisturbed by my surroundings, no matter where I am camped. It has been three weeks of travel and 1700 miles of ground. We have visited countless towns, eaten at numerous fast food places, and found refuge at a variety of (oftentimes unexpected) locations. But regardless of where we end up for the night, may it be the mountain ranges of Virginia, some remote neighborhood in eastern Kentucky or a river bank out in Missouri, as soon as I zip up my tent for the night, I am in my bubble of comfort. I am "home" and ready to rest.

In the predawn hours of the morning, I wake up to the rustling of zippers and tents close by. It's around 6 am and time to get up and start another day. What awaits in the hours ahead is always a mystery, an unknown surprise, and a daily inspiration.