Oh yes, this day...

After three full days of biking, that fourth morning is tough. As I eased onto the seat to start the ride, my butt literally rejected it. It bounced up and floated in the air above the seat for a few seconds looking below at the taunting triangular black sliver that clearly had no give and no concern for my pain. I tried to settle in again. This time, the reaction was a bit less harsh, but I still wasn't ready to be fully planted. I started to empathize with my mom's claim that if she had a sofa on the back, she'd gladly bike, but the seat as it is just won't work for the way we are built. After a few minutes of riding and readjusting, my butt and the seat had finally found their groove. But on day 4, that routine happens every time you dismount and remount. Your legs also start to rebel. And the exhaustion catches up; there was a moment today where I actually thought I might be able to sleep and bike at the same time. I made sure not to relate this feeling to my dad, but I spent a solid few minutes contemplating how it could work.

On this day, you also start to forget things. At a stop where we were reassessing our location I dropped our headphone splitter. This is a prized possession. It is the device that allows us to simultaneously listen to the same book or music. This is crucial during the long afternoons full of headwind that we tend to encounter. I remember looking down and noting it was dropped. About 10 minutes later we decided to listen to our book. We looked in the bag and of course, no headphone splitter... Turns out I only psychologically picked it up. On this day, you most certainly do not turn back. What is passed, is passed. This also applied to a moment later in the day when we were searching for our motel. Just a mile down the road we realized that we had passed it. Did we turn back? Of course not. We biked an extra 10 miles to another hotel. You just cannot go back. Miles gained are miles gained. (In full disclosure, we also probably didn't turn back because the place was called "Al & Sally's Motel", and we have been on high alert for bed bugs)

That being said, this day is the best. It is the day when you really realize you are pushing the limits of your body. It is the day you most face yourself and prove to yourself you can do it. I think our society does a lot to divorce people from their bodies and nature. This is evidenced in the place we are currently plopped. We are at the Best Western in Chesterton, IN. The hotel is by the freeway because there is no place to stay in the heart of town. To get to the K-Mart (where we went to try and find a new splitter...no luck), you have to cross the highway. There is a stop light. There is no crosswalk. This was probably the most dangerous moment of our day. No one walks to K-Mart.

I have to admit that if I had a car here, I probably would have driven--I'm that tired. But, that is what I mean; this experience forces you to be with your body. I feel so fortunate to be exhausted to my bone. I am full of mediocre Italian food, delicious Dairy Queen Blizzard (now available in mini-size!) and a caramel that my dad said "accidentally dropped" into our Walgreen's bag. I have biked another 70 miles. I have touched lake Michigan and looked out at a silhouette of Chicago. From this angle, Chicago looks more like an island of jagged rock formations than a major metropolitan city. It is nice to see it dwarfed by nature.

Tomorrow we bike into Chicago. We will indulge in good beer and good food. We will have reached our destination. But, as I answer my many work e-mails and commute to the office in the coming week, I will not forget this day.