Day two is in the record books. Man am I beat. Was planning to get to Denver today. Didn’t quite make it to Denver. I sit in Frisco, Colorado. An upmarket place not far from Veil…
So am short by about 40 miles/ a half hour of running. But I had enough about an hour before I stopped. But I kept riding until I was too cold, too sore, n too thirsty/ hungry. Time to stop for the day… prudence dictates… As I get tired I get distracted. Traffic is building up as I get closer to the city and it’s all down hill and fast. With loads of campers and caravans and jeeps and bad drivers and dangers galore. So I stop. I run early morn, down and through Denver and get into Kearny, Nebraska by about 3pm.
I find that, all up, I am only good for about 8 hours of riding/ maybe 9 to 10 hours of travel, in a single day. Call me a WUSSS!
ready to ride 6am this morning:
There I am…. armour weights about 8 kgs or 18 lbs.
Riding like I do demands a lot from you…mentally and physically. Right now my ankles, knees and thighs are sore/ overused/ tired. My shoulders and that tight spot between the shoulders is tight.My shoulders are well-worn. My back… surprisingly, feels fine.
So I guess I’ll live. I am on my second IPA in the bar by the hotel. Chatting with Jacob and Tao at the bar. They are jealous of the bike and the idea that I am a funky ol fart doing shit even these young guys would struggle to achieve.
Not that I am bad and nasty and strong and insane but, sadly; I am insane, too strong for my own, ol fart, good, nasty and bad to the bone.
But I ache. And I’ll wake happy and ride until i am sore agin tomorrow.
Great interaction and engagement at the bar. Got a Palau-boy n an old tattoo’d n ugly Triumph riding rigger who, I am happy to say, is a good enough encounter