Intro

Welcome to a story, or stories I should say. A compilation of adventure tales. An ongoing itch to see, smell, and touch the world, or at least the deserted roads and rarely trampled mountains of America. Characters within the descriptive paragraphs of these stories carve out the coming and going companions in life; vital life people and pieces that parallel a universe for moments, days, years. And then spear off, leaving granules of magnificent memories of magical places. They leave a lasting trace, a gained sense of courage to stand tall on oxygen deprived mountains and shout absurdities like: I love you Ralph! Ralph is a teenage reindeer stuffed of the finest synthetic polyester fiber poof; he says made in Indonesia but really tells me he is from the North Pole. Delivered through a chimney one December night 20 years ago, we instantly became cuddle buddies upon that morning's sunrise. He is the instigator. The inspiration. And the imagination. He breathes creativity. Laughter. His is a dear companion. And yes, at 4lbs he tags along atop a pack or strapped to a rack. In delirium of 107 degree heat, the small possession of material belongings gain a persona. Innate objects become friends of the road and trails. And as for the humans who accompany, their presence reads priceless. Without O'Reilly, a 29 year old New Hampshirian with superior taste buds, the mathematical six foot four inch tall German, or handful of organic peanut butter and 99 cent jam eating munchkins, there would be a lot less excitement. The encounters we make with our specie, encapsulating the world with their awkward ways and over consumerist love, somehow we have managed to become overly adored creatures. Their generous hearts restore a faith that goodness prevails in the upheaval of a sometimes lost humanity. As for myself, I'm just the navigator, paddling up the stream of life munching on Clif Bars, with an iPhone documenting the frailties and goodies underneath all the simplified complexities in the world we reside. So again, I welcome you to get lost and dream a little through this typed text and your imagination. My name is Kristen Gentilucci. I live in Berkeley California and I love dogs.


Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Day 29. The sign read 114 degrees.

Miles: 101
Weather: the bank sign read 114, And as much as I want to boast it was true, I would guess 103 not including heat index.

They say this is the hottest driest summer in the Midwest in a whopping 24 years. Go figure. it feels like it.

5am. Wake up. Shot of DayQuil for the road, 3 oranges, a bowl of chocolate cocoa puffs, and a water bottle full of OJ. There are some things in life I never wanted to do, such as ride a century with a full blown head cold. And then there are times in life, when, I never want to do it again. Today was one of those days.

Mile 40: After refreshing with a discount store find of 25 cent power bars, I loaded up my pannier with over 35 bars for the group. This got my cheer and excitement up.

Mile 45: lunch. So excited about my find, and refueled on chocolate powerbars and tomato and mustard wonder bread sandwiches, I decided to trudge onward till second lunch.

Mile 63: DayQuil wears off, heat sets in, and I start trailing off the end of my group. Waiting for the van to pass us on the way to second lunch, the same van I once despised, we hit mile 68 to hear that the van had had an injury, delayed by a flat. What really happened was a bit of a different story. The van and buggy had a mishap with a yellow car and lady. Everyone was ok, except the trailer. On the good side, we got the brakes fixed on the trailer this morning. On the lesser note, we don't have a trailer anymore.

Mile 74: without food or cold water, we wandered into subway to steal all their ice and order sandwiches like wild bores. Then we drew a tree of shade on the hwy, for no reason at all. So that was that, I was biking a century if I wanted to or not.

Mile 86: we find a manmade swimming hole to cool down in with a bunch of red neck teenagers who without hesitation made fun of us for 15 minutes straight. I hit a new high today, being mock for my farmers tan by a redneck.

Mile 89. The van pulls up!!! Your back, working, alive, and I am 11 miles from being done. I waved it by. Peter, a sweet quiet blond from NY who is a fun riding buddy, pulled my tired body and bike the remaining 11 miles. Legs full of heat rash, 130 ounces of water later, and feeling like I had a 104 degree fever, I think I sweated this cold right out of the pores of my skin.

The good news, we are all in bed by 9:30pm, everyone is eager to wake up at 4am to hit the road before the heat of tomorrow sets in, and the trailer, after a few hundred bills, will be fixed and ready to save us by tomorrow afternoon second lunch stop.

The cue sheet quote of the day read, "Some people never go far enough on their first wind to find out they have a second." Rightly stated whoever said that.