I'm in!

I finally made it. Actually, I arrived last night, with my lovely one, and we went to her family's home south of Atlanta.

It was not easy. The highways are much busier than in the other states that we went through and ... well, my lovely one thinks the word "Spaghetti junction" explains best the planning that went into Georgia roads.

It felt good to visit Atlanta for the first time today. Of course, I had to take my lovely one to the Four Seasons, which was kind enough to host a book promo party for kids (and kids-at-heart) this Saturday (Oct. 3, 2009)

Also, I had the chance to talk to a lovely young lady at www.AtlantaLatino.com, who will be writing an article about Luna Needs a Miracle and this journey.

So close...

... Tennessee was great.

My lovely one and I have been looking at the map. We're thinking 24 East to 41. But who knows? Getting into Atlanta looks like it'll be dangerous.

We're so close.

We're so happy for great weather.

Arkansas, Mississippi and ... Nirvana?

Over the past couple days, Luna cycled through Arkansas and Mississippi. Now that I'm getting used to the pace, I find myself getting much more used to the brief moments of meditation I have as I wait for Luna to zip by on his bike.

What's interesting about this phenomenon is that I can see a direct relationship between a lack of NPR programming, an abundance of conservative talk radio, and a preference for me to turn off the radio altogether. The result: lots of quiet time. (And also a lot of alone time with mosquitoes, thus the ankle-protecting socks in the photos.)

Even though I initially had lots of time to think. My mind started straying into lots of time to "not think" and I gather that's where the meditation came into play.

The second-half of that sentence is oddly phrased is because I don't know I've meditated until my mind sort of returns to consciousness and realizes that I've been in a thoughtless state for an undefined period of time. I realize that I've had my eyes gazing into the rear-view mirror, but I haven't actually seen a thing. I wonder, "Did I miss Luna?" and somehow, moments later, a tiny black speck would appear in the rear-view mirror's horizon and begin approaching the car.

(Below is a video of the view in Arkansas...)


I think from that "nothingness" state, creativity is born. One of the things that happened, while recently "out" of an open-eyed meditation was how I calculated our proximity to Nashville, Tenn. Luna and I already completed nearly a hundred miles through AR and MS, and we were just five miles south of Memphis. Traffic was unpleasant and heavy (for a bike) and I calculated that we were less than eight days away from Atlanta. We could take a day and a half off! And we could visit our friend in Nashville.

We called her up, and she told us to join her. So, we strapped Luna's bike to the back of the car and muscled our way north to Nashville.

We're now off our originally planned trajectory, and I (a stickler for plans and itineraries) am surprisingly okay with this.

It feels great to be in a house, with a kitchen, and good home-cooking (prepared by a chef, of course). So, how are we heading into Atlanta? What does tomorrow look like? We haven't mapped it out yet. We may not map it out until we hit the road again tomorrow morning. Or we may not hit the road...

All I know is that things are luxuriously normal and comfortable today.

We're in Arkansas, But First Some Thoughts About Texas...

We actually left Texas two days ago and headed into the state where former President Bill Clinton was born. In fact, we even passed by his birthplace, Hope. (I kid you not. (Could that have been the miracle we're looking for?))

But first some thoughts about Texas:

1) Gorgeous countryside. An immense greenery. Land further beyond the eye can see.
2) Overwhelming smell of manure, which meant...
3) Lots of cows. Lots and lots of cows.
4) Restaurants (we only went to two, actually), which pretty much only offered beef. Very difficult for a porkatarian.

On our way to Gainesville, Tex.

But we ended up going as far as Sherman, Texas. It's always nice when you slog through and exceed your expectations. It was a scorcher! Very hot and very humid. It made waiting in the car quite difficult, but who's complaining! I don't think I would have covered this much ground cycling, so...

Here's a small clip.

Brief Breakfast Interviews in Childress, Tex.

I realized at some point in Childress, Tex. that Luna and I had been on the road for 10 days. (We left San Jose, Calif. on Sept. 10.) That put us about halfway through our journey.

I don't think Luna is thinking about the trip in such stark, numerical terms, but I have a lot of time to sit on the shoulder and reflect on such things. As breakfast was being served, I posed the question to Luna about his thoughts on the trip (see video below).



I'm realizing how our experiences are almost necessarily different because his "thoughts" are focused on the moment. He has described to me his field of vision remaining only a few feet ahead of his bicycle, whereas, I have been monitoring the map, correlating it to our destination. How many more miles closer to our destination? What does our time look like? That sort of thing.

Then, as I wait, when the "strategery" portion of our segment is over, I lean back in my car seat and I think about all sorts of things. Big things that don't necessarily have an immediate impact on me or my survival.

In contrast, I realize that Luna's zeroing in on the pavement. I was never aware of how many different types of pavement and paved roads there are out there! Sometimes, he'll flag me down and say, "Didn't you see me waving? I'll break my neck cycling on that shoulder!"

Oops.

Truth is, I hadn't even noticed--not until this trip. Not until he had just told me. But for him, a pebble out of place can be a huge catastrophe. So, for me, looking at these video clips and interviews is actually kind of amusing, because I realize I'm asking him lofty questions, like: "Have your thoughts changed since we left San Jose?" and his response is more like, "There's a little rain today... I keep my eye on the pavement..."



What was I thinking? That he'd find God? (More on that later... I had the hardest time tuning into NPR on our route through Texas (I caught only 5 mins of it). My guess is that the equator of the bible belt is actually Rt. 82---but more on that on another blog.) But I digress....

Everything's a little bigger...

The roads are clean.

Cycling in the Pouring Rain

Do you remember what it's like to be a kid? Do you remember what it's like to play in the rain? That's what it was like for me to ride the bike leaving Albuquerque this morning.



As kids, we never thought about whether our clothes were dirty or hair was messed. We put so much emphasis on the rain as adults, that it really takes away from the beauty of its gifts. One of which is getting wet. I don't care if you have an Armani suit---you can always take it to the cleaner.



But do you have to protect yourself from the rain?

We have so many concerns in our lives that the things we do come with a question mark. And that question leads you to fear---fear of the unknown, fear of that which hasn't yet been experienced.

Today's cycling trip in the rain, getting completely soaked---getting cold to the bone---all those things gave me clarity. I realized that we don't have options. The moment you make a decision to do something, the other thought of "not doing" does not exist. So, there is no option or choice.

Life is a gift. Live it.

What I love about my lovely one...

This trip has taught me that even though I am the one cycling, and losing X-amount of calories, the thought of hunger at any given moment would come without a question.

I ask my lovely one, "Are you hungry?"

And her lovely response is, "No, but you can continue to cycle. You have another five more miles to go."

Now, I have been known not to have patience, but how do you continue to go on cycling, starved, until she decides when it's time to eat?

Mind you, this is also an opportunity for both of us to eat together when clearly we're not cycling together.

I have often asked, "Love, would you like to do just one mile on the bike, and I'll drive?"

And the reply is: "This is your cycling journey, not mine."

Luna Meet Luna!

Isn't life interesting! On my first day in Flagstaff, I happen to meet the person who prepared my pork ribs: Larry Luna! And what a cook!

Check it out:



Oh, and by the way, in case you didn't know, I'm a vegetarian. A vegetarian who eats pork.



It was really good. But I couldn't finish it all. And I confess: "I'm a pork-atarian"

Day 5 - On Struggle & Solitude

No journey is difficult. Is living difficult? Because if it is difficult, then the result is certain---which is go to the highest mountain and jump off. If you can't handle living, there are no drugs in the world that are going to cure you. If you're feeling depressed, then get undepressed.

Our struggles are not outside of us, they are in us. Our struggle with our spouses, jobs, kids, they are all within us. And it's not that you choose that you want to be one thing or the other--it's already been decided for you.

Pessimistic view, pessimistic thought, pessimistic outcome.

If you can't cheer yourself up, who will? If you don't love yourself, who will? If you don't understand yourself, who will?

Solitude on this cycling journey, being alone, being on a mountain, and moving forward, I don't see cars, trucks, anything. I realize how alone one is.

Alone is not lonely. Alone is just you with yourself.

When you learn--and it can only be for a moment--when you learn that you are vulnerable, that you are not in control, you will be able to see the images of you.

One of the things that I have seen are these trucks. Not one, but many trucks, pass by. I have two feet pedaling, and I realize that I am not in charge. If it ends for me there, it ends for me there.

And so, in whose hands am I? In those of the men and women who drive these trucks and cars? Because clearly I am not in control.

This is the solitude that I'm talking about.

You can't live remembering everything, or putting things into practice. It's just not the way life is lived. The moment it enters your mind, it's already recorded. Why do you want to live life practicing something you already know? Why not live what you don't know? Or what's unknown? Let yourself go, live, be free of fear.

And move closer to yourself--to knowing me, the ego.

Day 4 - Cyn's Thoughts in Arizona

This morning, I woke up so thankful for a full night's sleep, into actual morning---the kind that follows a sunrise, not the kind that pursues it, as we have been doing for the first three days of this journey.

Today, even though we're still in desert climes, I'm thankful for the wind, so Luna can pump his legs across Rte. 40 to Flagstaff.

We're both awed by the relentless peace, the beauty of the landscape, and how close the fluffy, white and silver cloud puffs float above the trees. They travel slowly, too. Like us.

There is a certain pace to living, isn't there?

And when we're not in synch with that pace, then we call it life, because we don't really feel like we're living. Seems like we're either rushing to get ready for it, rushing to get ahead of it, or waiting to get ready for it, or waiting because we think we got ahead of it.

Day 3 - Tehachapi thru Mojave Desert

We started the ride to Needles, Calif., and Kingman, Ariz., in Tehachapi, Calif., at about 4:00 a.m. It started off really well down the mountain. Truck traffic was light. By the time the sun rose, we had already entered the Mojave desert.










Luna got his first flat early in the morning--around 5:00 a.m., maybe 5:30. I thought something was up when he took longer than usual to meet me at our agreed upon 5 mile mark. (We've been "leap-frogging" our way across the highway, where I'll go ahead by 5 or 10 miles and he'll either pass me by, or stop and grab a bottle of water, a bite to eat or relieve himself on the side of the road.)







Unfortunately, I was unable to turn around on the highway, so I had to wait for him to switch out the inner tube in the dark and cycle over to the car. I was waiting in the desert and had the opportunity to enjoy the sunrise.

Cyn: I'm a traveling rest stop

We worked out a leap frog technique to this cross-country bicycle trip. Unlike the Tour de France, I can't follow Luna on his bicycle at his 15-mph/20-mph pace the whole way. Truckers hate it and make angry beeping noises, cars whiz by even faster making the cycling conditions even less safe. So, at one point, we silently agreed that I would move ahead by 5 or 10 miles and he would simply pass me by, or he would pull up to refill on water, Advocare's "spark" or lunch.

Obviously, I do a lot of waiting. Especially, when I wait for him at the top of a hill, or after several hills. It slows down his pace. Overall, he's averaging 20 mph though.

So, in the following video clip, I'm talking to myself on camera, because I was getting bored. We had probably cleared about 50 miles, so I had already spent several hours on my own, in the heat, waiting...

During this wait period, I discover that actually, "I'm really cool [, because] I'm a traveling rest stop."



The next video sort of shows some of the dynamic. Truth is, after several quarter hours (and hours) of waiting, I have to be cognizant of the fact that Luna isn't necessarily ready to chat, hang out, reflect, discuss, etc. It was a hot day. A really hot day. He just wanted shade, drink, and cool water on his head.

Seems appropriate that such a hot day was dedicated to his friends from Maui. All in all, the day treated him well.

Day 2 - Daytime Cycling

This is part of our journey on Rte. 65...



Here's the continutation of the video clip:



Witness Luna cycling through San Joaquin Valley on Rte. 65.

Day 2 - Night Rider...

We're still in California, and we've been checking out of our hotel at 3/4:00 a.m., so far. It's the best way to get mostly traffic-free cycling into the day. Of course, there are folks who drive all through the night, like truckers.

Trucks are a bit of a challenge for Luna, because as they pass, they create this pocket of wind that has him swerving around in the shoulder. I understand that this is a bit of a strain for him, and he's been riding with his regular cross-trainer sneakers, rather than his riding cleats. (Cleats lock the cyclist on to his bike, so if he's about to fall, he'll go down with his bike, feet trapped in the pedals. (I'm not really sure why these cleats are popular.))

So here'a video clip of Luna cycling by night, and me following closely behind. At first, this was the way for us to handle it because there were frequent turns and Luna has a way of keeping his eyes on the road, rather than looking out for street signs for critical, directional turns.

I referred to this way of cycling/driving as a sort of screen saver, because it has a hypnotic feel to it. Here's the long-awaited "Night Rider" video...



The following clip is of Luna dedicating this trip to all his friends on Maui. We recorded this before recording the other video clip above. He woke up feeling great after a looooong first day (sleepless, if you recall) on the road, so we were ready to "tear it up" while pacing ourselves. The trip on Day 2 was from Dinuba to Bakersfield.



Driving conditions from Bakersfield to Tehachapi turned out to be too dangerous--particularly as we approached most of the mountain climb. Trucks whizzing by at 70-plus mph speeds and a gravelly shoulder hugging a cliff!! (I insisted in driving him up to Tehachapi. Luna was not happy with me, but I'd prefer a LIVE Luna over road kill anyday!)

Doughnuts & Coffee...

This morning, we went out to pick up some doughnuts before starting the day. I love having a cup of coffee before getting started with my day. Coffee warms my stomach and gently moves me from a sleeping state to a waking state.

Both of us are crazy busy. I have a list of friends I need to contact to tell about this trip. A lot of my peeps still don't know.

Luna has plans to train again today. Yesterday, he spent almost three hours on a stationary bike at the gym. I'm surprised that he did pretty darn well. I mean, he wasn't winded in the least bit. He reminded me afterward that the gym conditions aren't nearly comparable to real-life conditions. Cyclists are either confronted with riding into the wind or with the wind, when they are riding uphill their bike tilts with them and they are carrying their weight while balancing on a two-centimeter wheel--your whole body is involved in the process.

Nevertheless, he seemed to appreciate the workout, getting his calves and thighs used to the motion, so different from walking (my preferred mode of athletic transportation.)

Strangely enough, I'm really nervous and excited for this trip myself. Obviously, being in the car, it's not so much a matter of the physical test, but rather, because I think this will test my mental ... moxie.

I'll have a lot of time to myself on this journey.

A friend asked me, "Are you sure you're doing this for yourself? Are you sure you want to do this?"

And my response was simply, "What else would I do if I didn't?" Isn't life just a succession of events that you either take part in, or you witness? I guess I'm glad to be able to take part in this event in a way that I can take part in it. I really don't think I have the physical wherewithal to endure 2,500 miles of cross-country cycling.

I do have a lot of awareness about the personal challenges that supporting a friend who does have that physical ability will present.

Already I have posed to myself countless questions about what it means to be a woman, what it means for me to be the "passenger" on this trip "driven" by my (male) partner, and I can say that I do experience a little bit of conflict over it--if only because I was brought up on somewhat contradictory values that I have incorporated and embodied.

On the one hand, I feel so great to be useful and important to play this role of support crew to an amazing person who is about to take on an amazing challenge. On the other hand, I am aware that I am (and have been for a while) digressing from the path charted for me. That path was safe and perfect: I'd get married, live in a house with a white picket fence, I'd be raising beautiful children and taking them to soccer practice, while seamlessly advancing in my career. Over the past five years or so, I have gotten divorced, eschewed the white picket fence for less permanent abodes across a 6,000-mile span from Washington D.C. to Maui and back to the mainland, begun a PR business of my own, and put a hold on the child-rearing lifestyle.

Living my life off the itinerary gives my Moon in Virgo a bit of a head-ache. While the travel feeds my soul, I do find comfort in settling too.

Yeah, I'll have a lot of time to think about this stuff when we hit the road. Today, I have letters to write. Phone calls to make. Stuff to pack. But, first, shower!!