Let's Be Honest...

Okay... Confession time:

While we may have told many of you a variety of pseudo-truths (okay fine...you may translate this as "fibs") about our training experience as we geared up for the big bicycle tour, the truth is before two days ago, we had never ridden more than ~ 35 miles.

Yikes.

Really, as the questions poured in about all the many accumulated inadequacies/holes in our planning that were so apparent from the outside looking in (thanks everyone for keeping us straight)... we were tired of hearing about how much pain and under-preparedness we would be experiencing on the journey. So, truth by told, we just opted to save ourselves the continued harassment and tell you a variety of cycling-lengths--from 40 to 50 miles--so as to save face at least a LITTLE before the big day came.

Honestly, there were so many variables and components to our trip that were crucial to even getting here, that between finals week (read "month") and the plane tickets/food/gear/tent/bike tools--we found it very difficult to bike as much as we admittedly should have before we came into Virginia. We just figured, I suppose, that the bike trip itself would build the necessary muscle and endurance needed to meet our goals. Start out slow, work up from there... right?

Well sort of.

The first day, a desperate dash to Mineral, VA over an overly-crowded and dangerous state highway and through scattered rainstorms was not what we had intended for our first leg of the journey. It was only 49.2 miles, but it kicked our butts. We started asking ourselves whether we'd made a rash decision in not training for this trip. We had. We then asked ourselves whether pride would be a valid enough reason not to quit. It isn't. On top of all this, that first 20 miles scared the shit out of us, since our (very generous and parental) hosts had sent us out of Richmond on the major highway connecting Midlothian to Lexington--a highway that consisted of hundreds of cars zooming around us, honking their horns, and, quite often, profanity-screaming drivers as they told us how stupid we were to be riding on hwy 60.

Add to this our ongoing psychosis of getting hit by a car. (Thomas was struck by a truck last semester, and it's added a particularly influential weight onto his shoulders). At one point, a trashy woman in her boyfriend's diesel 4x4 even leaned out the window to spit at us, "YOU ARE AN ACCIDENT WAITING TO HAPPEN!"

Thomas and I had no choice but to keep riding--but I can tell you this: If the whole journey were any remnant of that first 20 mile leg, we would be finding the first ticket back to Kansas.

Anyway, we're safe and sound in Charlottesville now--after two days of hills. The roads ACA suggests are much better, slower, and less traveled. We've gone miles with only a couple cars. What a relief. And you know what? That muscle is coming along quite nicely.