cycling tour of Marshall County

Summer to a kid is playing tag with the other kids on the block, biking, balling, running through sprinklers, playing forts, scaring each other, all until dusk and mom or dad calls you in for supper, and sometimes you sneak out again after supper, and they must call you again for good, for your shower, and you drop in bed exhausted by the activity and heat. Summer is still that to me.

I left the house sometime after nine this morning, and it is 8:30pm now when I get in. I'm caked in a layer of dust and salty from my sweat, and I'm scared to look at the skunk stripe down my back. I'm exhausted, but I was grinning when I rode the last few blocks home, and I'm feeling satisfied as I prepare to go to bed. Jess, I'm glad I didn't send my bike on the big, yellow Penske truck!

Maybe I bit off more than I could chew today. From Potts Camp, I rode the Chewalla Lake way to Holly Springs. It was not the shortest or easiest way, but it is summertime and I had all day and no obligations. I ate a chicken salad sandwich and downed some sweet tea at a cafe on the square, then I biked north on Hwy 311 to the Strawberry Plains Audubon Center. There I chatted with the naturalists and hiked the trails. It was 2:30pm by the time I left, and I probably should have just turned around, but I continued north on Hwy 311 to Mt. Pleasant, where I realized that all the back roads were gravel and that's a no-no on my road bike. Again, I should have turned around, but I stubbornly reason that it's only four miles on the four-lane Hwy 72, even if it HAS NO SHOULDER. The first time I got run off the road by a semi, my knees were shaking and I would have fallen if my bike hadn't propped me up. But what could I do, now that I was stuck on the highway right smack in the middle of two towns (and hence cross-roads)? So I feverently said a prayer, and got right back on and didn't look back. I finally reached South Slayden Road and followed it to Hwy 7, and took Hwy 7 south into Holly Springs. The highway so drained me of energy that this last bit was torturous. There were no gas stations along the way so I could stop for ice cream. I was out of water, and I was already using the easiest gears because I had no strength left.

So sapped of energy that I couldn't notice cars anymore and so demoralized when every hill just led to another hill and not into town, I arrived in Holly Springs with one thought: water and food. I'd never been to Victor's Pizza even though my kids rave about the pizza and say I should visit because of the Chinese people that work there. So that's where I went for the first time now that I'm three days from leaving permanently. I order a 10" house special and many refills of sweet tea, again biting off more than I can chew. I make conversation with Sunny, the KOREAN owner, as I wait for the pizza, and only manage to eat half of it. So I stumble out with a pizza box - what was I thinking, that I'd carry it and ride my bike? - make it only to the empty steps of city hall, and promptly drop my bike and the pizza box and pass out. I realize cars are honking at me - probably students of mine, too - but I swat them away like you swat flies. I still had over twelve miles to Potts Camp.

I think this could be my tragic flaw, that I bite off more than I can chew. It is hiking without a map. It is Volcan Baru. It is agreeing to teach four math preps in a Delta school during my first year as a teacher. And as I'm about to embark on this AT thru-hike, this "flaw" worries me for obvious reasons. However, I do take comfort in one thing: no matter how grueling, I have always made it, and usually by myself. I finished my ride today without giving in and calling Mr. Gurley or the Claytons to pick me up. I even finished three-quarters of my pizza (before the ants on the city hall steps went to town).

Sixty-three miles, with all its ups and downs. I've got biker's butt.