Day 38: Everything was not estoy bien

The title comes from a story Jack told about throwing up on the Madrid bus, but also refers to how I felt for the first half of the day. Tensions were high thanks to a run in with the interstate, I felt like I was sitting on a radiator, a headwind pushed against us for miles, and my riding group dropped me behind as soon as we got a tailwind, twice. I was angry. I gained speed in the tailwind and downhills (which were beautiful; I made a note to look back on them in my memory when my eyes weren’t clouded by rage) and left them all behind until enough uphill climbs piled up and they caught up. 
Jack discovered my anger at being left behind and waited for me. I was able to finish the day chatting and biking with the rest of my group, which made me feel a lot better. I understand how and why people drop others riding more slowly than themselves, possibly unintentionally, but when you’re consistently a few yards away from the people you’re supposedly riding with and they don’t give you a chance to catch up, you’re just staring at their just far enough backs for miles, knowing they either didn’t notice or didn’t care that you have fallen back, it’s infuriating. Other people can choose to slow down; with rare exceptions, I cannot choose to speed up. And even if I could sprint to get back to people, should I tire myself out like that on an 89 mile day? As soon as I reach them I’d just need a break, or to slow down, and I’d lose them once again. 
That night we had an incomprehensible speaker of affordable housing and a family meeting at which I suggested we stop biking across the country leaving a mound of disposed disposable plates, cups, and utensils in our wake, which also cost our hosts the money to replace them. To my surprise, people were on board to start using and washing our own bin of plates and utensils that we have been carrying in the trailer to use for meals without alternatives. 
We got a double bonus of extra sleep from both a short day 6 am wake up and the time zone transition. Thanks to the decreased pressure to get the hell to sleep, I had a veritable slumber party in the parlor with Kevin, David, and Roy. David slept on a queen sized arrangement of red velvet cushions pulled from the pews, Kevin started out on two pushed together chairs and quickly moved to one of David’s cushions, and Roy and I each had a couch. Hanging out in a parlor with a bunch of characters and their distinctive stuff makes life feel like a game of Clue. 


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