Friday, June 13, 2008

The Gateway to the West - St. Louis, MO (Days 17-18)


The first few moments of riding each morning are always kind of exciting. It might be partly a combination of food in our bellies, the fresh smell of sun screen, and the echoes of Dan's soon-to-be hoarse voice leading us in chant: “Hey 4K! Where are we going?” But despite what any rider will tell you at the end of each hard day, a lot of the excitement comes from the promise of adventure in every new morning.

In the past few days our group has had its share of adventures and tests – flat tires, broken bikes, spills, tornadoes, and flooded roads. So this morning was difficult for many who wanted nothing more than to pretend that Greg's 6 AM knock on the door was an illusion and roll back over to sleep for another few hours.

A century – 100 miles – awaited us as we reluctantly hopped out of our beds (yes, you heard me, beds!) at Illinois College. As we road out of the college and off with the promise that we would at one point pass into the state of Missouri, spirits were surprisingly high. When there are 100 miles of road ahead of you, a few miles here and there don't seem like a big deal. And so as we took an unexpected “detour” out of the College, the usual chatter continued between riders and groups as many pondered what the day would hold. Chris was probably wondering what tall object he would find to climb (it ended up being a goal post), Allison was probably still wondering what the answer to Dan's daily trivia question was, and Ankit was probably just wondering. I don't think any of us felt those extra miles we road trying to find our way out of Jacksonville until around mile 90 when we found ourselves in St. Louis and lost once again.

The events of the day included a couple of flat tires, most of which were fixed by Ondrej, story time with Papa Ankit at the lunch stop, and a few ridiculous pranks along the way. We may have started and ended our day lost and confused but changes in directions, discrepancies in street names, and less that accurate mileage markers have become commonplace on the 4K.
With the help of John, a fellow cyclist clad in yellow and a St. Louis tourer who went miles out of his way to guide our group to our destination, we eventually made it. The day had been long and eventful – most of us were riding for a full 12 hours. Thinking back to the moment I first got a glimpse of the Mississippi River late that afternoon, I remember the shouts and hollars of my team mates as we struggled up steep hills our Midwestern legs hadn't felt in days. We may not always find the right road but there's comfort in knowing that we're all riding together. Truth be told at the end of a 100 mile day or a 40 mile one, there isn't another group of 27 people I'd rather be lost with.

-Sarah Biggart

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