This day was the first ray of sunshine to crack through and disinfect a week that felt like a pair of soiled chamois. Kayla kindly asked me to ride with her, and we were joined by Kelly and Katie S. Then we heard our route was only 54 miles, which was the best news since the investigative report on the baking industry that announced the invention of sliced bread.
We rode in twos, with me next to Kelly. I asked Kelly why she had moved to Chile and she went back to the very beginning. We then proceeded to go through her life story for the next 15 miles. But then disaster struck– reroute. And with a closed road (that we went down nonetheless until the convincing arguments of a dead end), our lovely short day came to a screeching halt, as we wouldn’t be able to for an extra 16 or so miles.
The following miles were a Vegas ride, so to speak, in that we all agreed that what happened on the ride stayed among us. Hence, gossip and opinions not to be repeated here for the likes of all y’all!
At lunch, Kelly got in the van to relieve her cramps and saddle sores so we were down to three. We played do/marry/die and I saw how the same person could get offed or proposed to simply because of who they were up against. Truly, context is everything.
Toward the end of each day lately, I’ve been reaching a point at which I think, “I don’t want to be doing this anymore.” This point came today when I had been biking through the rain for a while, my eyes blinded by the kicked up mud from Kayla’s tire ahead of me, puddles beneath me. But we made it to the host church, where I worked on this ol’ thang, ate fettuccine and Oreos with peanut butter (just as I was wondering if it was rude to pull out your own peanut butter when a host gives you cookies, I found the table of girls who were already on it), and went to sleep at 8:30.