Day Three… SUNNY DAY. A beautiful ride. Wasn’t nervous getting back on the bike. Knew it was important to do so. Biked through vineyards and felt like I was riding backwards in time through The Grapes of Wrath. One of the hills on day three was called Quadbuster, which essentially went straight up for two miles. As I write this, my body cringes with the memory…but I made it without stopping. Without walking. Really nice day. Quite beautiful. Paso Robles camp was pretty and my tent was FINALLY near a port a potty -the worst thing about the ride is needing to pee in the middle of the night and having to walk 1/2 a mile to a port a potty. And because you’re eating and drinking religiously, you pee religiously as well. 


Day Four… LONG DAY. 101 miles. Hills, hills and more hills. Forgot California was so hilly. Felt more like I was in Colorado. Climbed the “Evil Twins”…just as horrible as they sound. At the end of the second hill was the ‘Halfway to LA’ sign. Everyone was very excited. And the hill down was glorious. 30 miles an hour, tailwinds and beauty. beauty. beauty. It was lush and green and other than a few blurs of “on your left” speeding cyclists passing me, I felt alone in the universe… in a really wonderful way. By the time I got to camp, the black eye had spread halfway down my face and I started to get attention….and, frankly, I enjoyed the buzz. People called me “bad ass,” “inspirational,” “a hero”…always nice to hear. I started to enjoy the chatter so much, I stopped wearing sunglasses in order to ‘boast my bruise.” Of course my hand and my upper back were killing me…and Advil just doesn’t cut it…even if you’re taking 800mg. But there was nothing stronger, so i had to suck it up. The camp was enormous. Port a potties were so far away I just willed myself not to pee. It worked…but it took a lot of energy. 

 Stay tuned to tomorrow’s blog for days 5,6 and 7