Friday, August 28, 2009

Well that was a time.

So, I made it to the Pacific. I very obviously didn't blog very much (read: at all) just because there was too much to experience. I should've just put a link up to Theo's blog.

But I plan on sharing some of the adventures as I can from my journal. But right now, I need to sleep. However, I did just find this on the Bike & Build page. It's from P2SF (Providence to San Francisco route), and I think this excerpt probably explains more articulately than my mathematical mind could what it felt like when I finally saw that ocean:

"We are a horde of funny-looking outsiders. We wear helmets and shoes that click. We own little more than stinky spandex. Along abrupt lines, as abrupt as the line between land and sea, our arms and legs change from a dark tan to a creamy pale In life we are generally affluent and well cared for, and yet here we suffer from countless cuts, bruises, saddle sores, broken bones, funguses, viruses, and staph infections. We are weird, we are ugly, by common standards. We are mangy dogs, and we are mangy dogs by choice. And yet, as we enter the beach, generally a place for physical beauty, for showing off one’s manicured, polished, perfected body, our abnormalities do not cross our minds. We merely see the big, blue, glimmering ocean before us. Suddenly our bodies change. They are not the scarlet letters of shame, they are our tickets in, they are the proof that we have earned this. Like no other beach we have ever seen before, this one is truly ours. Everything but us and the water ceases to exist and we cannot help but smile and feel that all is good and beautiful, ourselves included...

"Don’t tell me that I’m crazy. Don’t tell me that I can’t live on leftover pasta salad and Clif bars. Don’t tell me that I can’t jump off a cliff. Don’t tell me I can’t ride in granny gear for ten miles. Don’t tell me I won’t be able to stand riding on saddle sores everyday. Don’t tell me I won’t be able to finish installing these joists before the day is done. Don’t tell me I can’t ride east to west because of the headwinds. Don’t tell me I can’t raise four thousand dollars. Don’t tell me I can’t bike four thousand miles. Don’t tell me that I can’t."

Alright. Bedtime.

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