Trail Blazing

I rode the Bruce Freeman Trail from Chelmsford center into Westford.  What a great place to ride!

I got on the trail at The Brickhouse after surviving Chelmsford center traffic and cruised along the paved pathway through the woods.  It was wonderful not to have to worry about traffic (except at the road crossings), and the ride was much more peaceful than chugging along the side of a busy roadway.  There were plenty of other cyclists, joggers, walkers and the occasional roller blader (those still exist?).  Even with all the other folks on the trail, it never felt congested or crowded.

If you're looking for a good place to stroll or roll, this is the spot.  The downside for slow moving activities is that there are a lot of wetlands adjacent to the trail, so bugs might be an issue depending on the season.  For those crazy enough to go outside in the snow, the trail would be an awesome route to cross-country ski.  No matter what you're doing on the BFT, the good news is that when you're done you can head into The Brickhouse for a cold beer!

Stats for the day

Miles:		18.14
Time:		1 hr 39 min
Avg MPH:		11.0
# of Falls:		0!

First Fall

It didn't take me long to score my first bike flop.  I was coming to a stop on the homestretch of a 13-mile ride and a stick got caught up in my front wheel.  The hellacious screeching noise alerted me immediately that something was going horribly wrong, but it took me a few seconds to figure out where the sound was coming from.  By the time I noticed the wedged stick, I had lost most of my forward momentum.  As I began tipping over to the right, my brain was kind enough to remind me, "Hey, dummy, you know you forgot to un-clip from the pedals."  By that time I was beyond the point of no return and ignominiously dumped myself onto the side of the road amidst the pine needles.

The good news, other than getting my first crash out of the way, is that the bike survived with only a minor twist of the right brake lever.  I, however, was critically wounded, as you can see from the photo, and my very survival hung in the balance.  The panicked doctors in the medevac helicopter recommended immediate amputation, but being the stalwart bicycle warrior that I am I told them I'd just rub some dirt on it and walk it off. 

Stats for the day:

Miles:		12.95
Time:		1 hr 20 min
Avg MPH:		9.7

D-Day

I've selected my Departure Day!  I'm setting off on my trip Saturday morning, June 6th.

If you assume that I arrived at this date after careful consideration, detailed analysis, and sensible deference to the task I'm about to undertake, you'd be woefully wrong.  I just liked the idea of my Departure Day coinciding with the anniversary of D-Day.  If I really wanted to, I suppose I could gin up some sort of cogent metaphor to justify picking this date as some sort of symbolic gesture, but it's really just me being frivolous.  I'm sure that doesn't speak to the larger issue of my chances for success, does it?

A few days before June 6th, I'm planning on taking a ride to Boston and camping overnight.  This will give me a chance to do an equipment shake out, but it will also allow me to say I rode from Boston to San Francisco without being a filthy liar.  I suppose while I'm there I'll have to do the corny ritual of dipping my rear wheel in the Atlantic Ocean so that I can dunk my front wheel in the Pacific (if I make it that far).

Now that the date is set, you can begin the betting pool on what day I'll be back - and you can't all put your money on June 7th!

A Bicycle Built for One

As it turns out, an essential piece of equipment needed to cycle across the country is a bike!  Who'd a thunk it? 

I turned to the trusty interwebs and began my research.  After dozens of websites, reviews, forums, and blogs I quickly went from clueless to confused.  I've always been fascinated by the paradox that the more product research I do, the more difficult making a choice becomes.  As thrilled as I was to discover that I could easily spend $6,000 or more on a bicycle (yes, the thing with two wheels that your have to power yourself), I eventually opted to narrow my possibilities down to what appeared to be the two most popular touring models that came in under $2k: the Trek 520 or the Surly Long Haul Trucker.

Before my brain collapsed under the weight of more research, I decided to go to a bike shop and see what these babies looked like in the flesh (or steel, as it were).  The Surly was a bit more expensive, but had better components, so I was already leaning that way.  Once I got to the shop, the maroon and black styling of the Surly won me over.  Cycling as as much about fashion as anything else after all...isn't it?  That's how I settled on my bandy new Surly 700c Disc Trucker.

I ordered up my bike and scheduled a fitting.  I learned that you can't just hop on a bike willy-nilly and expect everything to be hunky-dory.  Apparently there are angles and ratios to be considered for optimum comfort and efficiency.  I was dubious about shelling out more money for a bike fitting, but what did I know.  Turns out that it was money very well spent!

By the way, the shop that I ended up going to was Wheelworks in Belmont, MA.  Tom and Ed help me out, and were excellent at guiding me through this early part of my journey.  Best of all they were kind enough to wait until I left before laughing uproariously at the idea that I was going attempt a solo ride to San Fancisco.  True professionals!

Anyway, it turns out I needed a bigger frame and so the fitting was cut short and I had to wait for a new bike to be ordered.  No big deal, but it did cut into the miniscule amount of training time I had before I set off on this folly of mine.  A week later, I was properly fitted on my new machine, which was also decked out with a better set of handlebars, Shimano clipless pedals, a Brooks leather saddle, and pannier racks.  (And I thought all I would need to do was buy a bike - sheesh, what a noob!)  Not only was I fitted, but I also found out that I had to re-learn how to ride a bike.  Luckily, Ed gave the basics on correct positioning and which muscles to use in what circumstances.  It's going to take some adjustment, but I'm much better off that I would have been on my own.

All that's left to do now is buy some snazzy cycling clothes, choose a route, and pick a launch date.  Easy peasy!

Mission Statement

Why am I doing this?  How the f@*K should I know?

I suppose my reasons are somewhat intangible, but still provide enough motivation for me to attempt the impractical undertaking of riding across the U.S. on a bike with no cycling experience as an out-of-shape almost-50-year-old lazy person.  Note that I'm being careful to use the word "attempt"!

One of the big factors behind this for me is the grand adventure aspect of it all.  I'd love to be able to put a substantial accomplishment like this on my life resume.  Despite the fact that there are hundreds (maybe thousands?) of people who do this whole cross-country tour thing each year, I still want to be able to say, "I did it."  That being said, I'm perfectly aware that I very well may NOT be able to do it!  Even so, I feel at this point that I at least have to give it a try and see how far I can make it.  In theory, as long as I don't get myself flattened by a Mack truck, get shot while passing through Cleveland, or suffer a debilitating injury I should be able to physically complete the journey.  The question then becomes: Do I have the mental fortitude to pull this thing off?

The answer is a definitive maybe.  The other big factor, as far as I'm concerned, is viewing this trip as a test.  I know there will be plenty of discomfort, frustration, and pain along the way.  Especially pain.  It's important for me to find out if I have the willpower and psychological stamina to endure the negative forces working against me and persevere in achieving the arbitrary goal I've set for myself.  If you're thinking that I should have tested myself when I was much younger and had this stuff figured out by my age, I have to agree with you!

There's also a touch of a "live life while you can" sort of thing going on as well.  I can easily spend the rest of my life thinking about all the things that I'd like to do if I only had the time, the money, was in better shape, had the training, yada, yada, yada, or I can get out there and try to make something happen.  Some have referred to this folly of mine as an effort to tick something off my "bucket list."  I don't really have such a list, and until a few days ago this ride wouldn't have been on it even if I did.  I know there are a host of unique moments waiting for me out there on the road that I'll never experience if I stay safely ensconced on my sofa in front of my big-screen TV being fed the internet through an intravenous tube.

Finally, as a by-product of months of relentless physical activity, I'm hoping for some health improvements as well.  I'm not expecting much.  Maybe just losing 70 pounds, gaining a full head of Sampsonesque hair, and being cast in a featured role in Magic Mike 3!

Hey, if you're gonna dream, why not dream big?  ;)

Ridiculous Conception

So, there I was minding my own business, riding my bike to my mom's house on Mother's Day.  The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and all was right with the world.  That's when I spotted a fellow coming the other way on a bike loaded with front and back saddlebags (they're officially called panniers, as I later learned).  He was struggling up the slight incline that I was merrily coasting down.  I suspected he must have been on some sort of training ride, because I couldn't imagine a long-range tour would take anyone up Richardson Road.  What an awfully silly person, I decided, and leisurely pedaled on.

As I rode home after visiting my mom, I thought about that guy with the loaded bike again, and also about my friend Karl who had ridden cross-country years ago when we were in our twenties.  I'd always been impressed with his accomplishment, especially since he just up and did it with little to no preparation, experience, or (it seemed) much planning at all.  I began to wonder how long it might take a person to ride from coast to coast on a bike.

For years I've been intrigued with the idea of through-hiking one of the three trails that span the country from north-to-south (the Appalachian Trail, Continental Divide Trail, and Pacific Crest Trail), but time is the main limiting factor for me when it comes to tackling one of these big boys.  A trans-American bike tour, however, can conceivably be done in 2 to 3 months.  And all I would need is a good bicycle and a bit of willpower.  Or so I believed.

I noodled around with the idea of riding cross-country for a couple hours, checked a few details on the all-knowing web, and made up my mind to go for it before I found a sensible reason not to.  My trip to South Korea to teach English could stand to wait another few months.  The only other major issue was that I had a batch of Belgian Trappist Dubbel Ale fermenting at the time, so I wouldn't be able to leave until after it was safely bottled.  Yes, some reasonably minded people would have wanted to have more time to train, but I decided to do most of my training on the tour.  Not smart, I know.  But, as Nike the goddess of victory has been known to say, sometimes you have to Just Do It!

Now all I need to do is get that bike...