After days of wondering, “where’s my downhill” – days when the downhill I was supposed to be riding down, wasn’t as downhill as the maps said the downhill should be – today, finally, for the first time since Denver, I found my downhill.
And boy, did it feel good!
From the moment I got on the bicycle today, just outside of Last Chance, Colorado, on my way (downhill) towards Kansas, everything felt a little different.
No more headwinds. No more jello legs. But most of all, for the first time in days, as I started my ride, I felt the familiar, unmistakable glide affectionately known as “coasting”. Finally, the speedometer was back up above 9 MPH and the mile markers started to roll by at a consistent pace.
Today was everything that yesterday was supposed to be. And it felt good to be back on the road again.
And this downhill came just in time too – because there were miles to make up. The past few days (yesterday especially) had been much slower than expected – and we were severely at risk of falling even further behind schedule for our expected arrival date in Lincoln, Nebraska.
It was a bit warm, for sure – and as I dipped out of the hills, the humidity kicked in for the first time since the ride began (a taste of things to come – I’m guessin’ yes). But I’ll take hot and humid over 20 MPH headwinds any day of the Ride, so no complaints here.
Today’s ride took me down Route 36, which I’m told used to be the main “highway” from Denver to Kansas before they completed Interstate 70. But that was long ago, and it shows. By now, Route 36 is a ghost road – with a few speckled towns – and virtually no gas stations (I’ve become quite dependant on my daily Conocos and Sinclairs to fill up my water bottles as I ride along). Just a few under-stocked country stores (and a few more liquor stores) to fill up and refresh along the way. (The owner of one liquor store swears some bicyclists stop in for a cold beer before continuing down the road – but for me a bottle of water and some tiny mixed drink OJ cans were good enough).
And I even got to ride through my favorite named town on the Ride so far – “Joes, Colorado”. I can just picture some guy named Joe settling the town and declaring its name – Joes. Not Schnecksville, or Smithtown – just Joes. But to my great disappointment, the town was too small to have a proper diner – so I can’t say that I stopped to “Eat at Joes”. Oh well, maybe later, when we ride through “Max, Nebraska” (Joes cousin, I presume…)
All in all the long straight ride along Route 36 was just what I needed for the day – moving the sticks 70 miles closer to Kansas, and closer to our final destination in Virginia Beach, Virginia. The Midwest is upon us. Gone are the rough and rugged mountains – with broad pastures for grazing livestock. Hello corn and wheat fields – for as far as the eyes can see. And while I didn’t expect it, they’re actually quite beautiful – “amber waves of grain” really did seem appropriate as I rode past 100s of acres of wheat ready to get harvested, interlaced with massive fields of green corn stalks. I’ll probably get bored with the view (as I pass through hundreds of these farms over the next few weeks), but for today, they actually represented a beautiful change of pace.
Like I said, it was a beautiful day to ride, and the perfect day to find my inner downhill.
From the Empire Motel in St. Francis, Kansas (the car’s in Kansas, I have to go back 30 miles in the morning to pedal my way back from Idalla, Colorado), this is Ted Schneck saying goodnight,
And I’ll see you down that hill.
Bye for now.
