Well...Here I Am
See, you think you’ll know what to say when you chuck everything up into the air and tell everyone that they’ll be able to read all about it on your website, but then the moment comes and it’s: what’s there to say? Or, more accurately, there’s plenty to say, but which selected bits best lend themselves to the chosen medium?
The wrenching chaos of the past month prevented me from giving much thought to how I’d structure my tale and how I’d restructure the existing site to serve as its venue. Would there be a Road Kill Tally (Today: one Large snake, extra-squished)? A selection of “What the hell was I thinking?” and “Why the hell not?” moments? (That was Katy’s idea - not that Kate, this one – and today both moments were the same: leaving). A daily mileage bulletin (22.5, very light day). Minutiae? (Didn’t put enough water into the dehydrated peas, so they were crunchy). Maximae? (Uh…haven’t had any maximal experiences just yet).
You see my problem.
At the moment, I’m in Jamestown, Virginia, with five bars on the cell phone and 200 kBps throughput on the EVDO modem. I’m camped at the back end of a mostly-empty private campground, trying to look unthreatening but not too friendly when the occasional car or SUV full of campers and camperettes cruises past my little patch of dirt looking for their own spot. I’ve met two other cyclists who’ve been on the road for eleven days. They tossed me a Rolling Rock and set up camp a few dozen yards away.
It’s the first night of a long trek and I’m feeling like a babe in the woods, with all my maximalist gear and my rusty tent-pitching skills and my ample belly fat. I don’t know how far I’ll go tomorrow or where I’ll sleep or whether I’ll get rained on or not. It’s crazy and wonderful and terrifying and stupid and lovely all at once, and I could explode into a soaring fireball or collapse to neutron density at any moment.
But before that happens, I think I’ll find my two cycling acquaintances and offer them some chocolate.
