Blog # 5: June 19-June 27; Dickinson, ND - Minocqua, WI

Stats

• Riding days since my last blog: 8

• Miles ridden over that time: 759

• Cumulative mileage: 2,109

• Number of days since I last took an ibuprofen: 21

• Number of times during trip I’ve ordered food at drive through windows while on foot: 2

Carl orders dinner pedestrian style at the drive-up window at a Dairy Queen in Melrose, Minnesota. Staff shortages have some restaurants closing down all but their drive-thru window.

Rest, Recover, Renew

I’m writing this edition of the Riding for Home blog in Minocqua, Wisconsin, where we are happily reunited with Beth and Julian for a period of reconnection and recovery before re-embarking for the final 1400-mile stretch home. Many of you know that this place – a house on a beautiful lake that Beth’s grandparents bought in the 1940s - is sort of a home away from home for us. Getting to this beautiful, peaceful place and getting this time with Beth and Julian has been a powerful incentive for us. It pulled us here – just as the winds pushed us here – ahead of schedule.

Being here for 24+ hours has made me appreciate the importance of rest and recovery, and has reinforced something I’ve said to Josh a few times on the trip: The best part of bike riding are the breaks. Don’t get me wrong. I like bike riding and I’m pretty good at it. But compared to most strong and serious riders, I’m kind of a dawdler. Why nourish yourself with one of those gel packets while traveling at 20+ MPH when you can stop, sit down, carefully unwrap your fig newtons, eat them with some water, check the Red Sox score and my texts, and savor what I’ve accomplished (that is, the miles I’ve ridden, not that I managed to unwrap and eat 2 fig newtons)? As a result, Josh, Bill Richard, Bob Cleary and some other cycling buddies have spent some hours of their lives waiting for me. Sorry about that guys! But I stand by the virtues of rest and recovery, and there’s no place I’d rather practice what I preach than here in Minocqua!

Good Fortune

When I was in middle school, David Lawrence, our childhood friend and neighbor, was voted Most Optimistic in our middle school popularity contest. (You remember, Most Likely to Succeed, Cutest, etc.). Since I was confused at that young age about the definition of optimistic versus pessimistic, I asked David “Does that mean you look at the bright side of things?” Without missing a beat, David responded “Hopefully!” Good one, David!

Well, this trip, despite its challenges, has me looking at the bright side of things, just as David Lawrence did back in the 1970s. Even before we started, I recognized my many privileges that made this adventure possible. I’m in good health. I have the financial resources to afford this rather expensive trip. My son wants to do this with me. My wife and other son have given us their blessing and support. So too have my work colleagues and board of directors, who are doing just fine without me. (Last week I learned that we had secured a $740k grant to build our bio training lab at our Rindge Commons project and earlier today I learned that we had closed on the financing for the project - the most important real estate development and workforce training project in the organization’s 54-year history!) In addition, I know that as a white man – with my white male son – we’re unlikely to be harassed or otherwise endangered.

On the trip itself, my optimism has been validated. We’ve had mostly good weather – some rain, a few hot days, but mostly very good. Our scheduled rest days, which we’ve taken weekly, have fallen on the hottest and the rainiest day of our trip. As I mentioned last time, the winds have also been mostly friendly, which has been a key part of our ahead-of-schedule pace and our multiple “centuries” (100+ mile days).

As I mentioned in a previous blog, we have had only 1 minor mechanical issue – one that Josh addressed with a 6mm Allen wrench in a few minutes. We have ridden 4,200 miles between us and have not had a flat tire. That’s unbelievable! (For a comparison, at the other end of the continuum, last September Josh and I and 2 friends rode to Provincetown – 520 miles among us – and had 9 flats!) We haven’t even had to pump up our tires. When we did our packing, we agreed our tools and bike spare parts should be readily accessible. They now live an idle existence at the bottom of one of our paneers, waiting, like the Maytag Repair man, for a chance to save the day.

Our bodies have also held up very well (see ibuprofen stat above), despite the mileage on my body and arthritis in my left knee and right hip. Sometimes it’s a struggle mounting the bike, but the ensuing 80-100 miles have presented no big problems.

At no point on this journey has my good fortune been more clear to me than during our encounter with a man we met in a bar/restaurant in a small town in North Dakota. It turns out he’s about my age and grew up not far from me in New Jersey. He was nostalgic about his high school lacrosse career, during which he played against my high school. Small world, we thought – meeting up with a peer from suburban New York in a bar in rural North Dakota. But our stories diverged. He told us about his bad divorce, his failed business, and his run-ins with the IRS. Those things and his hope to get his son away from the “wrong crowd” in NJ brought him to North Dakota. But misfortune seemed to follow them there. His son, he told us, is struggling with a meth amphetamine addiction, as are many in rural America. He made clear how much he longed for a relationship with his son more like the one Josh and I have, and how discontent he was with his life. This was a poignant reminder that experiencing this 2-month cross-country cycling adventure (with no flat tires and the wind at our back) with my 18 year old, and with loving family and friends cheering us on, is nothing to take for granted.

Soundtrack

One recent night in our tent – I think we were in Fergus Falls, Minnesota – I said to Josh as I was about to put my earbuds in and turn on my Spotify play list, “Music is great, especially the music I like!”

And the music I like has been an important part of the trip. In a keep-the-day-job fashion, I’ve done a lot of singing, whistling and humming while I ride. (I can handle this extent of multitasking, but don’t ask me to take a video or post on Instagram while riding. That’s Josh’s department!) One of my favorites is Chuck E’s In Love, Rickie Lee Jones’ hit from the late 70s. In addition to being catchy and upbeat, this same song got me out of lonely funks more than once when I rode from Montclair, NJ to Chicago in 1979, including early on when I considered turning around in East Hanover, NJ about 11 miles from home. I have Rickie Lee Jones (and Chuck E., whoever he was) to thank for helping me complete those next 889 miles. And here’s that song again 43 years later getting me fired up to ride on!

On less traveled roads, I’ve also listened to tunes through my earbuds. Last week in North Dakota, Handyman by James Taylor came on. I was immediately brought back to the summer of 1977 when I drove across the country with my beloved brother Tim and our friends Ross Haver and Laurie Black in our parents Ford station wagon. Handyman was one of our favorite songs that came over top 40 AM radio that summer, and the only one to make it onto my Spotify list 45 years later. (Sorry Lionel Richie, Easy Like Sunday Morning didn’t make the cut).

There’s something cool about that – similar adventures, many years apart with a soundtrack that includes these meaningful songs from yesteryear, augmented by Josh’s favorites, including one that sounds a lot like a Suzanne Vega song that he plays whenever we hit 100 miles for the day.

Random Observations and Reflections

• A gallon of water fills up my and Josh’s 6 water bottles with a few sips to spare. Perfect – and at 25% the price of Smart Water. Who’s smart now?!

• No big surprise but taxidermy appears to be a much more common hobby/profession/business in the western states than in greater Boston. On the other hand, I think we’re way ahead when it comes to psychotherapists. Maybe a geographic market correction would be in order. (Have I mentioned that I have a BA in economics?)

• Josh eats slowly and rides quickly. I ride slowly and eat quickly. Take the best of both of us and we’d be home by now. But what’s the hurry, right?

• This probably shouldn’t surprise me either but I’d say we’ve seen 100-150 Trump signs, flags and worshipful displays on this trip (each more vulgar than the last), compared to barely a handful of political signs we agree with. Kind of alarming.

• We passed a store in Wibaux, Montana called “Guns and Things”. Enough said.

• I saw several birds in North Dakota that I swear were seagulls. And Josh thinks I’m a bad navigator!