We start with an early morning thunderstorm, which encouraged me to sleep in an hour later than usual. Once I got going, there was a headwind from the west following the departing storm. I leaned into it and pushed ahead. Next, I encountered my most dreaded nemesis: road construction. This piece of roadwork was even more cruel than usual.
The road was all chewed up, prepped for a fresh layer of asphalt. The cruel part was that the eastbound lane was already finished. A gorgeous ribbon of dark black smoothness just a few feet to my left. Why, oh why, couldn’t they have done the westbound side first!? I tried sneaking onto the newly paved side, then scooting over when oncoming traffic approached, but I was going back and forth so much that it became more frustrating than it was worth. I eventually gave up and found a parallel farm road to ride on. These roads are never in good shape, but at least there were a few 20-yard stretches here and there that were almost smooth.
This is about when my brain started rebelling. I was bored! The endless miles of corn was starting to get to me. I tried listening to my iPod, but it didn’t help much. The lower I sunk mentally, the harder it was to move forward physically. I tried not to throw the whole trip into question – Why am I putting myself through this, again? – but I couldn’t help it.
My farm roads came to an end, so I cut back to the main highway hoping I’d gotten past the construction zone. The Corn Gods were with me, and the road was clear. I was still feeling low when I heard a motorcycle coming up from behind. Motorcycles are nice because I don’t have to worry about squeezing over as far to the edge of the pavement as possible to avoid getting run over. The motorcycle engine got louder as it got closer, but it didn’t pass me. I looked to my left and saw the guy (at least I assume it was a guy), fully decked out in a riding suit and tinted full-head helmet, pacing me.
I had no idea what he was doing until he held his fist out toward me. It took me a second to catch on, then I swerved out into the road and we exchanged a rolling fist bump. He then cranked the accelerator and zoomed off with a loud blast of engine power. In a matter of seconds he was out of sight over the next rise. And suddenly I wasn’t feeling low anymore. People can be really fuckin’ cool sometimes!
This emotional boost carried me right into my next disaster. I realized I wasn’t going to make it across the border into Illinois as I had planned, so I decided to bail out and stop for the night. The only option was a hotel about 9 miles off my route to the north. I turned down a dirt farm road and began zig-zagging my way through the grid to get there. It wasn’t long before I came to a “Road Closed” sign. The heavy rains from a few days earlier had caused flooding that was still lingering in places. The road to the right had a “High Water” caution sign, but no sign saying it was closed. I could have turned back and added an extra couple miles to the end of my already tiring day, but I detoured up the high-water road on the assumption that it couldn’t be all that bad.
In about a mile I came to where the water had over-spilled from some wooded wetlands and was flowing across the road. It looked to be about 4 inches deep at worst and extended around 300 yards or so – nothing I couldn’t handle. I still had the option of turning back and finding another way around at this point, but now I’d have to add even more distance. I confidently plunged ahead.
That confidence lasted until the water became deep enough that my feet would become completely submerged at the bottom of each pedal stroke. I kept going, sure that at any second it would get shallow again. It didn’t.
When my forward momentum was finally checked, I stopped and dismounted. I was nearly halfway across, and my shoes were already soaked. No point going back, I reasoned, I was already too invested. I began slogging forward, pushing my bike through the water. Contrary to popular opinion, the water got even deeper! It was lapping at my knees, and my panniers were making an effort to float off the racks. I knew I’d be doing some heavy duty oiling of wheels and chain that night.
I made it through scenic Lake Cowpoop, applied liberal amounts of antibiotic goo to my legs, and struggled onward. Just to make things more amusing, when I got to the end of the road, there was a big orange "Road Closed" sign there. Very funny, Indiana! I made it to the hotel, immediately took a shower, gave all my bags an anti-bacterial bath, then took another shower. What a friggin’ day!
What I Learned: Don’t make decisions based solely on time and distance (especially when tempted to take the “shortcut” near the end of the day).
Distance Today: 33 miles
Total Distance: 1,185 miles
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