the format

Ok, y'all, here's the deal.

The only communication device I will have with me on this trip is my cell phone. Otherwise, it's just pen + paper. So I'll be writing lots and lots by hand, then transcribing it as soon as I get a chance, be that a time when I have stable cell service or am at an actual computer at a library, someone's house, Apple store, wherever.

The format for the following posts will be pretty simple. I'll post the location + time I was when I wrote the original entry in my journal, and when possible, I'll include a picture of the original spread in my journal as well. Then the rest of the text will just be a transcription. Voila! 

last post from the east coast

This here's my last chunk of words + thoughts from the east coast. Tomorrow 7am I'll be taking off from Boston Logan International Airport en route to Seattle. After returning from dropping my stuff off in New York last weekend, I'm without my computer and iPad and have been relying on the local library for daily internet usage to wrap up planning, check emails, etc. (Ooh, which reminds me: I'm so excited to activate an auto-reply message on my email. FREEDOM.)

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I have a guest library card and can use the computers max 2 hrs/day, which is hardly anything for planning, so the rest of the day I usually spend walking around town, reading or writing thank you letters. My little campaign thing I started up just two days ago has blown me away; I am stunned at how much support I've gotten. I'm hugely grateful for everyone's encouragement, be it verbal, monetary or physical (so many hugs during my NY visit ^_^). Special thanks to my momma, grandma, Auntie Terry, Matt Magee, Rachel Beeman, Renee Mao, Andy Berster, Christina + Nathan Murphy, John Bailey, Maureen Dai, Jennifer Alley, and Jasper Curry for their generous contributions. Y'all rule. 

On my last day here in Boston, I'm feeling a lil' weird. Like, all my stuff is -- I have no stuff! I'm boarding the plane tomorrow with a small day pack and a tote bag and my helmet. That's all. It's strange to be without the little things that, together, compose a daily routine. Singularly, they may seem inconsequential and non-essential, but when you build your days from these tiny masses, their absence is loud. Like, ok, makeup, my wallet (right now I'm using an ultra classy snack-capacity ziploc), essentially unlimited underwear...these are little things that won't be in my life for the next month. And, yeah, of course my computer, too, which also means new music. I hate even bringing up the makeup thing, but hey it's true. Makes getting ready in the morning a lot quicker, that's for sure. Also helps that I only have one outfit to choose from. I kept a simple black skirt and black sleeveless top that roll up real small for my four days in Seattle, then considering shipping that and a few other stray non-essentials back to the east coast before I leave. Might be a good idea to keep the casual wear though for when I want to take myself out to dinner and dress like a normal human (read: non-lycra-clad).

As far as the tour gear goes, my bike luggage has been in Seattle since May, and FedEx is telling me my bike's currently in Auburn, Wash., so I'll be meeting up with it in Seattle. I've really made progress with the whole packing/unpacking my bike thing. It only too me two-ish hours to pack it this time around! I'm pretty proud of myself (vs. the 7-hour meticulous process that was Round One). I packed + shipped it the last day of the Harvard program using one of the mega handy bike repair stations around Cambridge. This one was conveniently located right in front of the Graduate School of Design; I've see others around, too (just outside of Harvard Yard, in front of Whole Foods). 

Repair stations include a quality air pump, stand and a bunch of tools secured to the stand by cables: pedal wrench, phillips head, screwdriver, multi-tool, two tire levers, and 5- and 6mm hex wrenches. 412 points to the City of Cambridge for installing these stations.  & I've heard people appreciating 'em almost every time I've passed by one or have been using one myself. People notice and appreciate. Good move, City. Here's a list to all stations in Cambridge: yay!

pillage pillage pillage

And good thing it was the last day of the program 'cause y'all know I went back in the GSD and ravaged the shit out of all the recycle bins and repurposed all y'all old projects/drawings/everythings as box padding. I thought everyone had left studio, but my friend Ashish caught me mid-pillage, peered up over his desk like, "Lily?" 

"I need this."

My bicycle's safety in its cross-country FedEx voyage shall be ensured by no less than the ideas and visions of my peers.

MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE

"We see people don't like to help other people here, huh?" Observation + help from Armando, Farhat + Alexis. Thanks, guys!

This is Thuy and she's so cool and nice and strong go Thuuuuuuuuuuuy!

Hauling the farm box + wheel box half a mile to FedEx was...sweaty. But bearable thanks to some helpful folks. I had the wheel box squeezed between the 59" long farm box and my hip, which, along with my wrist, was getting pretty bruised up. A few blocks through my neighborhood and then into Harvard Yard, these boys yelled out "Hey, hey miss!" and came running up to help. It was really sweet of them 'cause I was on the real real struggle bus at this point. They were doing a summer study abroad program at Harvard, coming over from Pakistan + Mexico. I told 'em I was going pretty far with the stuff, but they still insisted on carrying the boxes to at least where they were going, CVS. I thanked 'em excessively upon departure and right as I was saddling myself up with the boxes to finish the last few blocks of the trek, the woman hopped up from the curb and offered to help. I did the whole no-it's-really-okay-I-got-it-thankyouthankyouthankyou-okay-fine thing. She was waiting for a bus with two friends and the bus pulled up just as she picked up a box. She told her friends, "wait, let me just help this girl," and that was, like, so nice of her. And in this moment I was just like DUDE THANK YOU EVERYBODY WHAT IS THIS. I guess I'm just not used to people being so helpful and stuff. Also I can't tell if it's creepy I took pics of the people helping me carry my shit. I don't think so, right? It's fine.

And um, okay this is the end of this here now so yes okay bye talk to y'all in Seattle!

seven days and counting

I round up. 8.5 to 9. 4:53 to 5:00. Thursday to Sunday. Nap to tour--which, yes, kicks off in exactly one week. I'm laying in bed now, just finishing a popsicle and about to ease into a nice afternoon nap. I guess I should probably be doing squats or something, though. I don't know. 

I just got back from New York after checking out a bunch of apartments, dropping my luggage off at my friend's, surprising Maureen for her birthday, and of course having the most incredible dinner at none other than abc cocina. 

Laptopless in an apartment without AC,  I'll be spending many of the next couple days' hours in the Cambridge Public Library. List making, map dotting, time keeping; It's all coming together. 

Now, back in Cambridge, I have next to nothing and am just spending my final days polishing off bike tour planning, reading and relaxing. Today I started a campaign for my ride. It lives here: www.gofundme.com/biudyo and I'm running it until my last day in Seattle, July 30th. It's basically a last effort for me to rally up some extra dollars to push me through the tour: foodstuff, shelterstuff, unforeseen-circumstantial-difficulty-stuff. The move to Cambridge (+then to ny) and the urban design program here have been more financially demanding of me than I anticipated, unfortunately. It's mainly just been difficult saving money on food while I was at Harvard 'cause I was just in studio like 8am-12am every day and never had time to grab groceries + cook. Should've seen that coming. But, anyway whatever, still making the bike tour happen and I'm super stoked. Flying out to Seattle Sunday and marking my first mile Thursday. If you've got a spare dollar, I appreciate every bit of support! Otherwise (and always), appreciate y'all's love + good vibes. Cheers to the final days, and to the beginning!

to rockport

A lot of incredible things have happened in the past twenty-four hours. One of these incredible things is the breeze chilling my wet hair as I sit in bed and type this right now. Pajamas are luxurious -- now, forever and always, but especially now. 

I just got back from short trip up the coastline to Rockport, Massachusetts. One of my friends in the urban design program, Brian, and I decided to pedal up there and pass a Saturday exploring the place. It's about 50 miles north of Boston. 

Oh and real quick before I move on, gonna lay down a couple disclaimers:

1. Some parts of this story have been omitted or slightly altered for internet sharing purposes. The wholly true version unfolds under definitely funnier and overall more epic circumstances, and I'd be happy to share the real deal with you in person. Just bring it up. Keyword: legalities.

2. Brian and I are simply friends -- nothing romantic going on whatsoever. I feel the need to clarify this ahead of time because a lot of the things we did on this trip are just so cool and beautiful (in the sense that the existence of life itself is purely beautiful) that they may otherwise be misconstrued as "romantic," or whatever. And I feel that whenever a story involving a man and a woman is shared, there's an unfounded impression that there is ~something more~ and silly stuff like that. No -- it's simply two people sharing experiences that both deem fun and enjoyable (this is just the tip of a glacial rant that I would also love to continue in person. Just bring it up. Keyword: bologna.)

Great. Onward. We decided to go to Rockport because, like, look at a map. It just looks like a place of promising goodness. And it's not so far away. Perfect escape for a day; pedal there, picnic, pedal back. 

Brian is from San Francisco, so he's well acclimated to the hill business. I'm, you know, from Florida. So, no. 

The ride overall was pretty smooth though. Only two hills that really really took it out of me. I did, however, buy some cycling shoes Friday (Serfas Astro MTB shoe), and they definitely helped on this ride. I think they're essential for any long distance trips with climbs, especially if you're hauling all your own stuff. It's nice to feel more in sync with your bike and have your momentum be reciprocated. Incredibly helpful with incline.

The guy at the bike shop helping me choose a shoe, fit it correctly, etc. told me everyone starting off with these shoes falls at an intersection at some point in the learning phase. He recommended I practice riding with them in an empty parking lot beforehand. I rode up and down the street next to my apartment (1x each way), like, 15 minutes prior to starting the trip. Meh, felt stable and fluid and stuff. I'm fiiine.

On the way to Rockport, we stopped at a little market tempting us with "fresh local strawberries" doodled onto a chalkboard sign. We were building our picnic along the way; Brian had grabbed a bottle of sherry and some marcona almonds on the way out of Cambridge. A lady at the market recommended we stop at black and white beach and gave us rough directions how to get there. A pleasant detour indeed. You could just barely spot Boston, markedly The Prudential, on the horizon.

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black + white beach // manchester-by-the-sea, mass.

brian, america and the sea // gloucester, mass.

Last stop on the picnic collection front was a great wine + cheese shop in Gloucester, Savour Wine and Cheese. We tasted some wines, picked up a bottle, some cheese and other snacks, and forged northward with our eyes set on Halibut Point State Park. Brian's backpack was ridiculously heavy at this point: two liters of water, fruit, olives, a bottle of sherry, a bottle of wine, and the 5 lb. bag of ice because he insisted wine be served at the right temperature. My little daypack's drawstring top was busting with a box of arugula and a baguette. And in the distance between point of baguette acquisition and point of picnic, the baguette was poking out so far that I had to  curve my head around it and cramp up my neck. As we were nearing Halibut Point State Park and the climbs were getting a little more trying, I thought, "wow I have actually sustained physical injury via baguette."

Approaching the park, we see a big yellow sign: PARK FULL. They must mean the parking lot, nah for sure. Nope, the park was closed and not reopening for another two hours because they were at capacity because everyone and their mother (and cousin and dog and aunt) decided, yo it's a fucking gorgeous day outside let's go do some beautiful things. And I mean, good, that's what you should think on days like this but GAW DAMN WE JUST BIKED FROM CAMBRIDGE TO SIT IN THIS FREAKING PARK. This did not seem to register with the park ranger. She had no heart. She told us about the impossibility of fitting in a full parking lot. We met her with a glance downward to our bikes and further felt the need to state the obvious. To which she told us any more people in the park would take away from the mothers, cousins, dogs, and aunts' enjoyment of the park and its natural resources. I gave her the we-are-two-environmentalists-who-just-biked-from-cambridge-to-enjoy-your-damn-nature eyes. Nope. Onward up the hill. 

And, you know, I'm really thankful for that woman, the park's capacity, and her doggedness. Instead of sitting among however many dozens of people and trying to sneak sips of our wine + sherry, we got this:

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rockport, mass.

rockport, mass.

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i guess

We posted up on those rocks and enjoyed our epicnic. The sherry was perfect with the sea breeze; the wine was one of the best reds I've had (from Valle d'Aosta region -- if you ever see anything from here, grab it). The baguette was worth the cramp. 

Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew we had to eventually get back to Cambridge, but I was so entirely in the present moment, that I didn't really care how that all would unfold. I haven't been 100% in the present in a while. It felt good. I wasn't reminiscing; I wasn't worried or preoccupied or planning or anticipating. It was incredible. I was visually consuming everything. (And literally consuming everything. We were starving.)  

After fighting food coma with some rock climbing and more exploring, we had to finally come to terms with the whole 6:00 pm thing. And the whole 4-hour-ride-back thing. We're clearly not going to bike back in the dark (even though complete darkness doesn't set in until ~9pm here). I was considering biking to the T commuter train in the nearest town it linked up with and taking that back in, but who knows how late that runs on the weekend. My back up plan was to check it out anyway. Brian said we should just get a hotel here. My response was a big NO WAY. I absolutely cannot afford a hotel in Rockport, Massachusetts. A peak season weekend in a beautiful, wealthy tourist town? Big giant incredibly massive no. He insisted on getting one anyway and he'd take care of it. Okay, fine. I guess I wouldn't mind staying for sunset and sleeping a bit before the ride back. Neither of us had cell signal out on the point, so Brian biked back into downtown Rockport to find a room. I just chilled on the rocks, sketched some, breathed some, and eventually fell asleep here:

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sketch spot, nap spot

I felt kinda bad he was hauling himself all the way back into town and I was just straight chilling here. Eeep. He came back about an hour and half later and woke me up with a bottle of wine and a lobster roll in hand. 

He told me his ridiculous story of one innkeeper calling all her local innkeeper friends begging for a room before finally finding one vacancy: the family suite at Linden Tree Inn.

How absurd. This is so absurd what are we even doing. These were my thoughts. 

And in his shelter search, Brian was also searching for wine. But Rockport is dry. No wine, no beer, no whiskey, no nothing. I'm sorry, but WHAT YEAR IS IT. The bed + breakfast owner offered him a bottle of wine out of sympathy, and though he offered to pay, the owner could only gift it to him since selling alcohol in Rockport is illegal. Restaurants were permitted to serve alcohol only nine years ago. The pity pinot noir ended up being surprisingly good.

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sandy feet at sunset

So, that's how the sun went down: lobster roll, wine and an appx. 180° view of the Atlantic. It was one of the most beautiful sunsets I've seen and I think I probably incinerated my eyeballs watching it. S'all good. 

I hadn't watched a whole sunset in a while (vs. stopping for a moment to admire a glance of sunset). I forgot it did that little thing right on the horizon -- that sinking thing. It takes its time getting there, but once it's right on the brim of the horizon, it drops straight down. 

Once the sky fell completely dark, we left the point and headed downtown. I was so excited for the night's sleep; I wanted to take all four suite beds, line em up, roll around and pass out starfish style. 

Brian wanted chocolate cake though. So began The Search.

After dropping our bikes and etcetera in the room, we meander down the main drag of Rockport. I'd hardly call it that though. Everything in that town closes at, like, 8pm. The town was dead minus the show that had just let out at the Shalin Liu Performance Center. We go inside to find someone who can help us find alcohol and cake. That's all we wanted. 

The hosts working the reception desk kept apologizing for their town, saying they were embarrassed and that they, too, are [mildly] frustrated by its sobriety. They all pointed us to Gloucester -- to the only restaurant that was still open -- and followed their recommendation with a reassuring "it's only ten minutes away!" By car, sure. We were not tryna get on our bikes though. As the Shanghai Quartet met with some of the audience and signed some CDs, we left the hall and posted up outside. After a while, Brian just chucked his thumb out to the street because he still wanted cake and, shoot, why not. A car pulls up, bicycle on roof rack, and we figure out we're headed the same way. We get in the car, and the dude's name is Nick. He's the cellist in the Shanghai Quartet, and also a cyclist. Unfortunately, he recently stepped on a rock in his backyard and his foot hurts too much to ride. He still tries from time to time.

He loves being a cellist, but says the travel is exhausting, and hard on the family. Just the other week he was in Beijing and Australia, one right after the other. Hong Kong, New York, Shanghai for a while. He says he doesn't get to experience places much outside of airports, hotel, concert halls, dinner afterward. 

Thanks for the ride and perspective, Nick. 

The chocolate souffle and vanilla ice cream were an appropriately indulgent close to the day. 

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new cycling shoes  // linden tree inn

linden tree inn // rockport, mass.

The ride back was quick and rewarding. I'm really glad we didn't end up settling for the commuter train back into town. Would've felt way wrong. We made a couple stops along the way for coconut water and I was thrilled to have spent another of these beautiful and perfectly crisp day entirely outside.

Figure 1. Pedal-provoked vertical to horizontal transition.

Oh but also I fell over at an intersection. On the final leg of the trip, too, dang it! I had adjusted to the shoes pretty well otherwise. My left foot was getting all pinched up, so I pulled over to loosen the tension on the bottom of the shoe. A couple intersections after the adjustment, I went to go flick my heel out of the pedal clips but it got stuck. And in the picoseconds between me realizing this and me losing balance, I just thought of what the bike shop guy told me: everyone falls at an intersection once. Okay, here it is. This is it. And I flopped over (see Figure 1). 

I'll wrap it up here with a couple notes to self and other cyclists, and other people in general:

1. Stay hydrated. Very well. 
2. Stay hydrated. Very well. All the time.

wait holy crap this tour starts in forty-one days

i just wrote that in a facebook post 

and then exited out of the tab

and realized 

that

yeah

forty-one

okay

sure

gearing up

So I've been up here for two weeks now and I'm sososo glad I brought my bike. Boston's tiny, yo. And towny. It's very walkable, fun to get lost pedaling around in, too, and very easy to get acquainted with. Also there's a great 20-mile round-trip bikeway just a 10 min. ride away from my apartment. 

But before I could hop on that, I still had to assemble my bike. And last I left off, I believe I was just finished an epic breakfast en route to a bike shop. So, picking up right there, the rest of that day was freaking awesome. Couldn't have had a better welcome to Boston. 

I popped into Eastern Mountain Sports to check out their bike stuff/sale stuff/student discount stuff. I started talking to the bike mechanic there about clipless pedals, my trip, etc. and he showed me these neat aluminum clipless hybrid pedals. Shimano PD-M324. They had clips for cycling shoes on one side while the other was just a plain flat pedal face for commuting. Very ideal for my situation, not so ideal for my wallet. $84.99 -- fack. I gave the mechanic a resigned "thank you," plodded over to the sale rack and started squishing the butt paddings on all the bike shorts. 

"How were the pedals looking?" I heard just over my shoulder. I turned around to meet Diane. She's into mountain biking big time and we started chatting about pedals and things. As it turned out, she had just recently bought these same Shimano pedals, only used 'em a couple times, and was looking to sell them. She offered them to me for $40. They were in her car, which was in the shop around the corner, but I said I'd be in the neighborhood so I grabbed her email and got in touch a little later in the day. We agreed to meet at Trader Joe's around a certain time and right as I was about to call her and let her know I was there, I turned into the next aisle and practically walked right into her. She offered to help me put the pedals on my bike, which was incredibly nice of her; considering my pedal wrench was in Seattle and I'd otherwise be wrestling with a pair of pliers, I took her up on it. So we drove to Elliott's place and popped em onto my bike. And she even lubed up my chain and errthang so my bike was in ultra primo shape. Serendipitous morning. 

I spent the next two, three hours reassembling my bike in the company of one of Elliott's neighbors, Jean-Christian, an old man who took curiosity in the clanking, occasional grunting and indecipherable sing-humming going on outside his door. (Didn't realize I'd set up right outside someone's living room.) We talked about a lot of things. Cycling led to Seattle led to Harvard led to urban design led to his childhood led to this: 

It was his twelfth birthday present; I'm guessing he's 70-something today. TWELVE. He got this from his mother when he was twelve. This bike was three times older than me.

He had an overall very placid, easygoing demeanor, but I could tell he was getting excited talking about his bicycle. Before bringing it out to show me, he told me about how excited he was when he got it, and about how he's kept it in tip-top shape with regular maintenance and maybe a paint job or two. I didn't imagine it to look this stellar though. When he rolled it out into the courtyard I imagined Xzibit escorting it, with a 360 shot highlighting all its souped up features, hot new paint job, espresso machine poppin out the back, lights, a couch and a roof deck with Bose surround sound because why not.

I kept working on my bike and he started pumping up his tires a bit, and then set the bike aside. We continued to chat as I tinkered with my bike more, but a lot of the time was just passed silently, actually. The city sounded nice, and I enjoyed the mild company. I think he did, too. 

I finished and was admittedly pretty proud of myself. One of those "HA pulled it off" prides. This was my first time disassembling + reassembling my bike and I'm just happy it shipped safely and securely. And now it's actually more comfortable to ride than when I was pedaling around on it in Gainesville. 

Jean-Christian shared a brief celebration with me through some laughter and a high five. He offered his bike to let me ride it down the little road behind the apartment. Man, riding that thing was cool. It was like riding a couch around. So incredibly comfortable. I loafed around up and down the street a few times, returned the bike, and we said goodbye and wished each other well with whatever was ahead.  

break down, move out, build up

I'm trying to write this post and I keep getting distracted by this awesome crepe that's in front of me. And I can't tell if I'm bastardizing this crepe by smothering it in cholula but it's filled with eggs, kale, tomato and garlic aioli so it's practically asking for it.

I'm in boston now. I'd been in New York for the month of May and just got to Boston last night. My graduation was May 4th and my flight to New York was May 7th. At 5 a.m. The flight departed at 5 a.m. It was nutso. 

Taking apart and packing my bike was also nutso. I did this on May 5th; started at 11 a.m. and didn't finish till about 6 p.m. My friend Kris gave me an old bike and wheel box he had, which I'm super thankful for since otherwise I'd have had to buy one. I went to the bike shop around the corner from my house to grab a pedal wrench and talked to the dudes there for awhile, told 'em what I was doing, etc. They told me the shop could pack my bike for me--boxes included--for $40. I considered that for a sec (it would free up a big ol' chunk of my day, leaving me grease-free and magnitudes less frustrated), but it wouldn't be such a smart investment on my part. 

I followed some basic video tutorials for guidance and did everything slowly and carefully. It's my bike so I'll learn how to take care of it myself. Plus, I'm going to have to take it apart and put it back together at least twice more after this first go. Plus plus, I'm kind of stubborn and I told myself I'd do this all myself in the beginning, so I should still be doing it all myself now. And I did. And I just unpacked it here in Boston and it's fine!

Except I--ugh, okay--I shipped my bike tools and a pedal (one pedal?!) to Seattle. So this is what brings me to this crepe/coffee shop, writing this and waiting for this nearby bike shop to open. I'd been meaning to buy new pedals for the tour anyways, so I guess this all worked out anyway?

​And before I go much further, let me just further detail how my move out/ship off day went. Right, all day I was messing with my bike. I finally got the frame and wheels secured in their respective boxes with lots and lots of assorted padding materials. Old bubble wrap, paper bags, slivers of cardboard...all in the mix. 

Then comes the part where I cram myself and all my boxes into my roommate's bug (Thank you, Kat, for putting up with my absurdity and lack of move-out foresight). Good thing it was a convertible. I should've taken a picture, but let this provide some guidance to the imagination: 

That medium Lowe's box is full of my bike panniers, rear rack, tools, helmet, more ecetera and I guess my other pedal (otherwise I have no freaking idea where it went). Shipped that to Seattle where it'll live with my friend till I'm out there late July. (Thanks, Matt!) The more disheveled looking box on the ground was shipped to my pop's place in DC where it'll live with my other two giant suitcases from The Move until I come pick it up in September. (Thanks, Dad!) And, yep, those last two mongo boxes on the right are my wheel and frame boxes. Shipped those to my friend here in Boston. (Thanks, Elliott!)

Shipping shit is, like, real dang expensive. I have forced the FedEx prices out of my immediate conscious, but I do remember that I shipped my wheel + frame boxes through BikeFlights. It was super affordable. $50 total. I highly recommend. 

 But anyways, shipping's done and so is my month in New York. It was great I could pick up work back at abc cocina again (restaurant I worked at last summer) for a month to save up more for my tour and cover some of my moving expenses. Plus, wouldn't have rather spent my interim month any other way; I love that place too much. 

And now in off to grab new pedals, enjoy the sun and finish assembling my bike. Hope it all comes out in one piece.

._.

Uh, right. 2014. Ok.

Let me call myself out on the three-month gap right quick: Lily, you haven't written anything in three months are you ok are you even doing the bike tour anymore do you still have an unhealthy obsession with waffles

Yes. To all, yes.

I'm very, so, so, so ok. I think some time last week I involuntarily cashed in all my good karma points (accrued from what I estimate to be my last two lifetimes) and as a result had the absolute best sequence of days ever. In fact, I think it may very well have been my favorite consecutive 96-hour block of time I've experienced. The 96 hours began Friday midday when I found out I was accepted to Harvard's urban design summer program; I'd been waiting to hear back about for over a week past when they said they'd have decisions out. Finally, I just called them and I was like hey guys what's up and they were like oh yeah hey cool come up here and I was like yes. 

So, that happened. I flung my excited self back home from campus and my friend Jonathan shows up at my door with a bottle of champagne and a congrats card. And he proceeds to get me drunk off champagne and bourbon renewals as I scramble to get everything prepared for the Prairie release party that night (Prairie is The Fine Print's annual creative writing + arts journal). He sobers my appropriately celebratory self up with an epic eggs benedict creation and then we head to the F.L.A. Gallery for the release party. And the party was absolutely amazing and despite the biblical downpour, turnout was super solid. 

Then the next day two of my friends, Diana + Jeremiah, got married, so I weddinged all day. Purely fantastic, but words wouldn't do the day justice, so I'll just leave it at that. 

And then the celebrations continue with news that my good friend and co-editor, Sam, landed an internship with n+1 (super sweet brooklyn-based mag). Some serious vicarious excitement going on there. 

And now that everyone's up to speed on my life as of late, let's talk bike. Bike. So, I had originally pinned my bike tour for May. I'd fly out to Seattle on May 7, do my bike thang till San Francisco/June, then proceed with my summer. This plan, however, was contingent upon some pending summer program decisions, so I kept my options open. Sometime late February, I heard back from Berkeley regarding my [IN]ARCH application (similar urban design studio program as Harvard's Career Discovery). I got in, was super excited about it, and decided I'd hold off to hear back from Harvard before cementing my decision. If I didn't get into Harvard, I'd plan on just doing my bike trip after the Berkeley program ended in August (no use in zig-zagging across the U.S. since it'd be like: bike trip in May, wedding(s) on the East coast in June/July, jet back over to Berkeley for the program...hasslefest '08).

Anyway, so now that I know that I'm going to Harvard for sure, I've decided to start my bike tour in August. This'll give me a week to explore Cambridge/Boston once the program ends, and then I'll be off to Seattle. But it's also very likely that I'll just sleep straight through that entire week given the intensity this studio bidniss is looking like it'll be. Yikes. 

Dang, that was a lot. Okay, next post is going to be all bike. Promise. It'll also be up sooner than three months from now. Promise. 

P.S. I finally switched platforms for the blog! This design is much better for on-the-go posting, as I'll be doing on tour. Plus squarespace is pretty dang great, I'm coming to realize. I was using IM Creator before and it wasn't really doing much for me; plus, I essentially had to redesign my site each time I wanted to add a single new post. Got real old real fast.

gainesville to sarasota

Okay, so it really wasn't that bad at all. It was actually pretty damn awesome. And empowering. That's what I love about biking, though -- you can go anywhere. As long as your legs are willing to pedal and your mind is down for the ride, you can go anywhere.

Prep for the ride was a little less than ideal. (By a little I mean a lot, and by a lot I mean four-hours-of-Freaks-and-Geeks-three-hours-of-sleep a lot.) Thursday (departure: Friday) was absolutely insane with three final exams and packing. And Wednesday some Fine Print stuff blew up, which absolutely drained me of energy and good feels. My awesome co-editor Sam knew it was killin' me and was so sweet to surprise me at my house with flowers and a bar of excellent dark chocolate, and a proposal to repair everything. I knew I would've just let that fester inside me through my ride, and I wasn't sure what I could do to fix it immediately, but Sam saved the day and well, yeah, thank you incredibly girlfran.

After all my exams were done Thursday, I darted to Earth Origins (nearby natural foods store) five minutes before closing because I needed some nuts. I was just having a conversation with a friend about grocery checkout lines, and he was saying it's funny to see what people buy in the last few minutes before closing because you know these are essentials to them. Like, they need these things otherwise why would they be darting to the store? Well, tonight I needed one pound of almonds and cashews. Desperately. I was convinced they were essentials for the ride. (Spoiler alert: I hauled those all the way to Sarasota not eating but maybe seven of 'em.)

Then Bre + I went over to our friends' place and straight up vegetated and Freaked-and-Geeked. It was good. But then all of a sudden it was 1:21 am and I reminded both myself and Bre that I was indeed to start my 200-mile bike ride tomorrow. True. Okay. Home. Then I managed to spend two hours getting together my life for the next few weeks of break, and then finally hit the hay around 3:00 am.

PACKING LIST

• exercise tights/pants (1)

• biking shorts (2)

• lightweight long underwear + tshirt for sleeping

• underwear (1)

• socks (3)

• protein bars (an excessive 6)

• nuts (an excessive 1 lb.)

• lightweight 1-person tent

• sleeping bag in stuff sack

• taser; pepper spray

• printed maps

• mini first aid ki

• disposable camera

• phone, charger, earbuds

• duct tape

• BC powder

• aspirin

• air-activated heat pads

• mini bike repair kit + spare tubes (2)

I woke up to deluge of texts from friends alerting me of Beyoncé's new album that she surprised the world with overnight. HOW COULD SHE DO THIS TO ME? I HAD NO TIME TO DOWNLOAD IT BEFORE MY TOUR AND I WAS TO SPEND THE NEXT LORD-KNOWS-HOW-MANY MILES RIDING IN INSATIABLE CURIOSITY. I had no choice but to distract myself from this sad reality with an epic breakfast instead. Bre champed it out with me for at 8:00 am feast at Bagels&Noodles, which essentially was just tempeh, eggs and Cholula set to the soundtrack of my apprehensive rambles. "I should've definitely slept more last night." "Shit, am I even ready for this?" "Should I be stretching right now?" "What if it rains?" "I should've gotten that solar phone charger, huh?" (I should've gotten the solar phone charger.)

The Breakfast to End All Breakfasts

​To be honest, though, I think all the flusteredness I was verbally and physically (via arm flailing and frequent contractions into the fetal position) expressing was out of obligation. I almost felt as if I was too calm about this whole thing and maybe it's actually a bigger deal that I was telling myself it is. Like, the days and weeks and however-longs leading up to the tour, I'd felt entirely collected. I'm pretty confident in my ability to do things and I know my body's capability and my mind's capability, so I was like, yo I got this. Plus, 200 miles is really not that long at all and I'm in Florida and it's unseasonably warm for winter. I GOT THIS. 

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The essence of day one's scenery

Way into the country roads I shifted over to some good ol' Avett Brothers. In particular, Gleam I and II, and Emotionalism. And I think those albums were meant to be listened to with a mountainscape, a babbling brook of some configuration, or a herd of cows staring at you like this:

After awhile my phone battery drained to an unstable low, so the rest of my ride that day (4ish hours) was in silence. As was the next day's. Silence was perfectly enjoyable, too. (Although mind you I was still going nuts about Bey.) And more than perfectly enjoyable was the Pub sub that was my first day's lunch.

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Heaven, out of focus.

My first night I spent at Fort Cooper State Park after a 77-mile day. I was super excited to get all cocooned up in my sleeping bag and pass out, but it wasn't so easy. A couple weeks ago my mother called me all concerned about the trip and my safety -- the usual things one might worry about if her daughter were biking through rural Florida. After quickly convincing her that coming with me was every shade of a bad idea ("Mom, it would take literally a week longer" seemed to drive my point home), we settled on her meeting me at Ft. Cooper for that first night. She was stuck in traffic on the way up (Bike:1, Car: 0), so I just set up camp and waited for her. The ranger at the main entrance gave me convoluted directions to the primitive campsite, which was "down the road about a mile, take a right, then you'll see the Invasive Plant Management office and a gate; the gate'll say RESTRICTED ACCESS, but just reach around and unlock it anyway. Go past the mobile home on your left -- that's mine -- and take a left before the end of the road. But don't go all the way to the end to that house. You'll see a sign pointing you to the camping. Follow that." After veering a left at the sign, I walked a little while trying to distinguish each naturally tree-free space from a possible designated camping area. Finally, I got so lazy and so tired, I just decided to interpret "primitive" very liberally and set up camp in a random area just off the main path. Huddled in my tiny tent, writing by flashlight, I had been texting my mom on and off for fifteen-ish minutes. My phone had been at 1% for at least the past hour, so I knew it was gonna be dead soon; I tried to be very direct and specific with my instructions. I knew she was in the vicinity, but she was having trouble finding the right gate. "Lost" was the last text I received from her before my phone was completely out.

Well, shit, now I've got to go find her lest she think I died or whatever else mothers worry about. So I left my tent, phone and flashlight in hand, to search her out. I get to the main gate and passing road and I see a very slow moving car to my left. It looks like it's stop-and-go, so I thought, hey maybe this is someone looking for a certain address; hey maybe this is Nina. The car drives slowly by me as I recognize it as my mother's Subaru. I yell "Nina! Nina! NINA." I flicker and wave my flashlight like a lunatic. Nope, she forges onward. (For those of you reading who know my dear mother, you're probably laughing because this is very Nina of her to do.) From a distance her brake lights looked as if she'd maybe recognized me and paused to think, or perhaps she was still searching for gate entrances. Whatever she was doing, I'd convinced myself I could catch up with her so I began sprinting. I must've run a mile before realizing regardless of how frequently she braked, I wouldn't be able to catch her. So I plodded back to the Invasive Plant Management building, shining my light at the occasional oncoming car just in case Nina'd finally realized the maniacal flickering ten minutes ago was indeed her daughter. 

Passing the Invasive Plant Management building on my way to the gate, I thought, hey I bet there's an outlet on the outside of that. I crawled under the wire fence and beelined for a tiny green LED light I noticed in the middle of the wall facing me.

AN OUTLET = ELECTRICITY = PHONE ON = MOTHER = SLEEP.

Excited, I darted back to my tent, grabbed my charger, and did an about-face back to Invasive Plant Mgmt. And on the way there I run into a pair of headlights aimlessly bobbing down the campsite dirt road. Heyyyy, Nina. I hop in her car, inhale the stir fry she brought me, explain to her why I'm so sweaty, hop back out, crawl into tent, go to sleep.

And that was the most trouble I ran into during my entire trip.

The next morning I only had to ride on country roads for a short while before hitting the Florida Trail -- awesome, smooth, shaded, traffic-free, worry-free cyclist/pedestrian trail.

Florida Trail

After a few miles I passed Ruth's Country Kitchen right off the trail. Why yes I did want to chow down on epic eggs, toast and coffee while charging my phone. Thanks, Ruth.

It was a small but packed little place, and very horse-clad. Waiting for my food I counted about 42 horses in my 360 view. The decor ranged from sticker decals to small statues to rustic wooden plaques that read "In our house we just HORSE around," HORSE typographically embellished to ensure no one missed the pun.

The Breakfast to End the Breakfast that Ended All Breakfasts

After prolonging my breakfast and coffee refills to nearly an hour's stay with still zero charge picked up by my phone, I hit the trail again. I had all my directions on printed maps, so all I really wanted my phone for was for emergencies and keeping folks updated along the way. But no worries -- a couple miles later it decided to revive itself.

I'd have to say this second day was my favorite. Though it was the hilliest and windiest, I spent a significant stretch of my 63-mile ride on the Florida/Withlacoochee trail, which was beautiful. Down a ways, an older guy on a recumbent rode up next to me with an abrupt "Where ya goin'? Where ya comin' from?" I later came to know him as Kim and we rode together for about 7 miles. He was burning some serious rubber and was even pushing my pace, an average 11.5-12 mph, up to 13-14 mph. He's an avid cyclist himself; the most he's ever done in a day (albeit on recumbent) was 270 miles. Two-hundred and seventy miles.

TWO. HUNDRED. AND. SEVENTY. MILES. IN. ONE. DAY.

This dwarfed my entire trip and gave me motivation well beyond the seven miles we rode together. It was nice to have someone to talk to. His job is basically to travel around Florida and film bike trails and review them. He also owns some laser engraving shop that moves huge orders through Amazon. You know, like things that say your name, "MOM," "DAD," "I ♥ something-or-other." I asked him what the strangest order he's gotten was and he recalled for a period of time there being tons and tons of "I ♥ Jenni" orders. Tons. And then he said in the earlier years of business, he used to get a lot of "I ♥ Bob, Katherine, etc." orders. Now he's seeing stuff like "I ♥ Dick." "Filled a couple the other day for 'I ♥ Nipples.'" He concluded that conversation with his observation of the changing times. Yes, indeed. He asked me about my life, what I'm studying, what I want to do, etc. When I'd told him a decent dosage of what all I'm interested in, things I want to do, places I want to go, he told me, "Hey, don't get married. And don't have any kids. And just do it all." Duly noted, with a few grains of salt. But, YEAH GO BEING SINGLE.

Here's more from the Withlacoochee Trail:

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Other tempting signs along the trail included "Homemade Preserves" and "Fresh Strawberry Milkshakes"

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Dinner, day two: the second half of my pub sub + this view

And the rest of the way to Tampa looked a little like this:

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The discomfort this hill inflicted upon my thighs and gluteus maximus is not depicted well via photograph.

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Cypress trees along the road

My friend Elizabeth picked me up in north Tampa so I wouldn't have to weave my way through the ugly city to her house in South Tampa. We ended up meeting in the parking lot of a Boston Market, and about a mile out from there, I was so excited I wasn't even tired. I was biking so fast. And while legs of the trip were otherwise filled with wildly miscellaneous thought, entertaining hypothetical situations, things future, and things past, I swear for that last leg my brain was just rattling around an infinitely scrolling marquee of:ELIZABETHELIZABETHELIZABETHELIZABETHELIZABETH.

And then as soon as we met up and she mentioned something about pumpkin sage mac+cheese leftovers at her house I was all:

MACNCHEESEMACNCHEESEMACNCHEESEMACNCHEESE.

The original plan was for me to sleep at her place and bolt down to Sarasota first thing in the morning, but then my mother told me she was in South Tampa for a workshop and she wanted to pick me up to bring me to my godmother's Christmas party that night. A sort of family tradition, this was the last year I'd be able to attend, so I obliged and waited for her at Elizabeth's. The couple hours I was at her house, though, I'm pretty sure we just ate, ate and ate, and then proceeded to lay prostrate on her cool tile floor. That was the best. Morales Family, thank you for welcoming me into your cozy home and your impeccably stocked fridge. Highlight of the feast was the portabella we sautéed -- it was literally larger than my face.

Though I will always consider Sarasota home, my mother moved to a tiny lil' town called Wimauma (between Sarasota and Tampa) after I'd headed off to college. This is where the party was, too, so we drove down there, which cut about 20 miles from my next day's ride. Worked out just as well because I'd gotten a call on Friday so politely reminding me my "2:00 hair appointment on Sunday. See you then!" Sure, Aveda, see you then. This was a hair appointment Nina had apparently made me. Very considerate of her, but that meant I was going to have to haul ass down there to make it in time. I was originally planning on arriving around 4:00 pm. But anyways, everything worked out a-ok in the end, so not going to dive into detail there.

It was actually hugely luxurious to be able to stop at home on the way down to Sarasota. I was able to free myself of my tent and sleeping bag, and with that weight gone I felt like I was flying. Starting from Wimauma, I only had 50 miles to the end. Oh! And also hugely luxurious was being able to download the new Beyoncé ; I waited till I hit the road to start listening. It was hard to control myself. I was already two days behind the rest of the world. *melodramatic sigh*

So, okay: Sunday morning now. Day Three. Last day. A family friend at the Christmas party recommended those PowerGel energy pack things, which I'd always been skeptical of, but she swore by them and gave me two to try out. It had been raining all morning but finally stopped around 9 and I was on my way around 9:30 am. Scooted off just past the edge of the road's shoulder, I plugged in my earbuds and teased the gel pack. As I expected, the viscous clear slime oozed out and suctioned back in. It was what I imagined cellulite would look like if it were outside the body, just like chillin on a table or something.

Ew. Ok sorry that was absolutely disgusting.

Anyway, gulped that down and started Beyoncé . I was going so, so fast and feeling so, so good. My average speed for that day's ride was around 16 mph and I attribute that to a few things: 1) Bey 2) The fact that I had to be in Sarasota by 2:00 3) PowerGel 4) lightened load having ditched my sleeping bag and tent, and 5) pure excitement.

Going over the bridge into Bradenton was thrilling. (Yes, "Bradenton" and "thrilling" were just used in the same sentence.)

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Crossing the 8th Ave bridge into Bradenton

Going through Bradenton, however, not so much. I spent 4-5 miles on sidewalk dodging odd puddles of street sludge, utility poles, and meandering pedestrians who actually belonged on the sidewalk. Plus Bradenton itself is a scenic atrocity. It's dilapidated strip mall after strip mall, car dealerships piled atop Bob Evans...it's depressing.

Sarasota County welcomed me with a generous bike lane on US-41 and I had lanes for the rest of the ride after that. Luxury. A+.

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SEEING THIS MADE ME SO EXCITED. STARTED GOING 20 MPH FOR A WHILE. SEEING THIS STILL MAKES ME EXCITED.

Biking through downtown -- an area very familiar and nostalgic to me -- was amazing. I knew exactly where I was and wouldn't have rather been anywhere else. But as it happened, my hair appointment was in 15 minutes so I put on a hustle and biked a little faster. And dang am I proud to say I made it just in time. Five minutes early, actually.

I sat down in the salon chair and I was just real straight up with Jaqueline: "Hey, I'm really sorry my hair might be sweaty. I mean, it is sweaty. Sorry. I was just biking a long way and I had to come directly here."

She was super chill about it and found my story pretty amusing once I explained everything to her. I let down my hair from the bun it was in and got really self-conscious when I realized it was still wet from this morning's shower. She probably assumed it was sweat; I made sure she knew it wasn't. But ok, having someone lather up your hair and give your scalp a solid massage is definitely one of the best ways to end a ride.

And the next hour was awesome. One of my best friends, T.T., was leaving for vacation in China that day and according to my original itinerary, I'd miss her. But now that I'd gotten into town earlier, hey, maybe she was still around. I texted her and told her to come to the salon if she hadn't left town yet. She and her family were just on their way out, as it turned out, and she said she'd swing by. A couple minutes later, her face poked its way into my mirror's view. HOW COOL. We hugged a few times, I smooched her face hard, and I think I was too overwhelmed with emotions to actually form any sentences, but there were words said. I don't recall any of 'em though. An I-love-you, maybe? Oh yeah, and I reminded her to stretch on the plane. Good, good.

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Hey look, it's my newly engaged best friend (congrats grrl).

So ten minutes after T.T. peaced, I was spun around in the chair to see one of my absolute favorite teachers from high school checking out at the counter. I quickly morphed out of Grudge mode, clearing all the hair from my face so Roma might recognize me. Yup. There she was the beautiful, most wonderful Roma Jagdish. She was so surprised, came over and we chatted a bit. And because I was only in town for a day, we decided to grab coffee right after my hair was done. We tried our best to catch each other up on the past three years in the hour or so we talked. I missed her so much. When things like this happen (and when I run into my other favorite high school in the middle of Maine during a spontaneous weekend getaway from NYC, Summer 2013), I can't help but think there's some kind of orbit effect in place with the people you care about. I believe if you really care about someone and genuinely want to keep them close to you, you will. There's a magnetic attraction that pulls you back together somehow. Sounds New-Agey, I know. But hey.

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Pretty great conclusion to my first tour

Ok also check out how hilarious this picture is (hilarious in the way girls who wear make-up to the gym are hilarious). I stopped by my mom's friends' place and they snapped the pic:

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50 miles? NAH.

As if I weren't feeling on top of the world enough already, I stopped by Sunni Bunni (local frozen yogurt place I used to way-too-frequent in high school) for some refueling and as soon as I sat down with my yogurt, "Love On Top" came on. DANG. That day couldn't have gotten any better, until it did.

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Crossing the north bridge to Siesta Key (nostalgia like no other)

Jillian herself wasn't home for break yet, but her family was all there. Original plans were to surprise my mother for her birthday that day by taking her out to a nice dinner, but she requested to reschedule for the following day. She my momma and my birthday girl, so that was all fine by me. And again, let me clarify why I insisted on riding to Sarasota even though my home is now technically in Wimauma. I rode to Sarasota because I wanted to ride home. And I will always consider Sarasota my home. My memories live here and they will never relocate.

It was awesome to see Jill's family again. I get really excitable when I'm around her, her mom, dad, brother, and sister. And dog (shout out to Hunter living the real blind dachshund struggle). They're all super. That evening I kept trying to relax, lay down, do something so mundane as check my email, but I just couldn't! I could not stay still. I'd sit for thirty seconds then find myself up and pacing around again. Maybe I just had excess energy/happy. Something like that. I didn't mind.

The next morning Mike, Jill's brother, and I went for a bike ride on the absolutely gorgeous day that the 16th was. I was incredibly fortunate to have such benevolent weather my entire trip, come to think of it. We're in a super mild winter as it is, but I didn't even get caught in a drop of rain. Also no flats or bike trouble. Lucked out hard.

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This is what Mike looks like in yellow.

And that pretty much wraps it up. My first tour, short as it was, went as smoothly as it possibly could've. I'm still hanging out with residual good feels from it. It was incredible and so easy; honestly, every time I hear something along the lines of "Whoa I can't believe you did that!" I'm like, yo it's not hard you can do it, too. More mental strength than physical, I'd say. Maybe you want to try it out sometime? Or, shoot, just hop on your bike and pedal around anyways. Endorphins. Good stuff.

And hang with me just a sec 'cause I want to thank/re-thank a few folks before ending this novella of a post. Thank you ma for not worrying too much. Mayer family -- y'all rock. Elizabeth + fam, thank you much. Maureen, David, John -- thanks again for your gifts. I definitely could not have done this or any trip without the panniers, handlebar bag or toolkit. Thanks Eric for the dollas to buy myself a helmet. Thanks to my girl Bre for the send-off and love for the road, and to everyone else for their support. And to Ali, a new friend who sat with me and gave me some solid advice for the ride, and touring in general; Good luck biking The Great Divide this summer, girlfran. Also thank you everyone who drove by me and gave me a little extra wiggle room. Pretty sure I dedicated a personal thank-you-thought to every car that did throughout the ride. 

Shout out to my left pinky finger, too. Pinched a nerve while riding and it's been numb 'n tingly ever since. 7 days and still going strong, baby.

morale check (biking to sarasota)

I don't think I've mentioned this but I'm starting my winter break off with a bike ride to Sarasota. And once upon a time, this was happening in the ambiguous and comfortably far-off future. Now, I find myself less than a month away from it. Less. Than. One. Month.

I'm departing Gainesville December 13th, the day following my last day of exams. My bike'll be outfitted just as it will be for the summer tour and I'm gonna use this ride to, uh, break in my morale. And to see if anything goes absolutely, terribly wrong before I'm 3,000 miles away from home with nothing but my bike, [ideally] 25 lbs of belongings and no back-up plan.

I'll arrive in Sarasota on December 15th, just in time for my mom's birthday. Actually, just in time for her birthday dinner if the timing of the whole tour works out as planned. She doesn't know she has a birthday dinner planned yet, but oh Nina just you wait.

Then, I fly up to Washington, D.C. the 17th to visit my dad and my brother and I'll be bussing up to New York for New Year's. And all of the stuff I'm packing for winter break will have to fit in my bike panniers. Packing should be interesting. I'm planning on shipping up a box to D.C. and I gave my duffel bag and winter coat to my mom last time she came through town, so hopefully I can manage.

Alright, game plan:

View GNV - SRQ Bike Route in a larger map

DAY 1: GAINESVILLE - FORT COOPER STATE PARK 65 miles; 6 hrs.

I'll leave early morning December 13th and bike 65 miles to Fort Cooper State Park, where I'll spend my first night. This is also where I'll hook up with the Withlacoochee State Trail, recommended to me by the girl who sold me my bike; this is the route she took on her tour to Sarasota. Google tells me it'll take 5 hours and 14 minutes. I'm planning on stopping for a Pub sub for sure, so between that and panting/sweating/water breaks, I'll just round that up to 6 hours. Still not so bad. Camping at Ft. Cooper is $5/night and the entrance fee is $2.

DAY 2: FORT COOPER - SOUTH TAMPA 75.7 miles; 7 hrs.

Starting the day early -- this'll be the long stretch. I also have a weird premonition that I'm severely underestimating the hilliness of mid-west Florida. Whatever -- I'll be dealing with much worse on the summer ride so I'll have to be able to handle these. (I'm just really bad at inclines of any sort. Stairs suck. Ramps are fine.)

From a cursory tour of the paths once I diverge from the Withlacoochee, Google street view's showing me there isn't much in the way of bike trails or even shoulders on some of these country roads. But I don't imagine they'll be heavily trafficked; I'll just be extra careful and also wear *gulp* a neon yellow shirt. I find neon colors extremely unpleasant, but alas black is not a good color to bike in. So it goes.

I'll be staying with my friend Elizabeth in South Tampa this night. She's a boss for letting me stay the night and also for driving my laptop + charger down from Gainesville so I won't have to lug it that extra 140 miles. Shout out to muh girl.

DAY 3: SOUTH TAMPA - SARASOTA 61.5 miles; 5.5 hrs

The Victory Stretch. I anticipate this stretch to be filled largely with shopping centers and strip malls. But, I'm so excited to bike over the North Bridge on Siesta Key. That's where I've decided to pin as my finish line because a) it's beautiful, b) many a memory in and around that area, and c) proximity to ma's birthday dinner restaurant.

In total, it'll be 202 miles. I'm just tryna see if I can handle it, if I'm missing anything or if there's any way I could optimize my ride so summer's will be more bearable. I'm still waiting on some of my gear to come in, but once it has, I'll post up a full packing list.

The Sarasota ride is scary soon, but what's more frightening is the amount of stuff that has to be done between now and then: 3 exams, 2 projects, 3 papers, and the winter issue of Fine Print. There are ten more days of class left; let's not do the math.

helmets 4lyf (thx, eric)

I finally own a helmet! 

As inconvenient, bulky, breeze-restricting and gooberish as they may be, it's just dumb for me not to be wearing one. After almost being hit three times since I starting training in September, I've been meaning to get one for a while. I like my brain and I prefer it unscrambled. Plus, I've had three close friends in serious bike accidents in the past couple of years and they're lucky to have gotten out as in-tact, functioning and beautiful as they are.

 Special thank you to an awesome friend of mine, Eric, who surprised me with a donation last month. I used it to buy my helmet, so thanks a ton, dude. Eric was originally going to do the tour with me, but we're still unsure about how the dates are working out with his school's schedule. Them northeast kids get out so much later than we do. He's really into biking, too and makes his own bikes...welds and all that jazz. I don't know how he does it, but he's pretty dang talented.

sweaty mornings

Remember I said I'd start training that Sunday a couple weeks ago? Surprise -- so far, so good. Legs feel like noodles. And rock. At the same time. Whatever they actually are, it sure feels good.

Longest ride I've done so far was two-weeks-ago's Thursday morning -- my friend + I cranked out 30 miles before class and it felt really great. Came home, ate my weight in watermelon, epic shower blasting my girl Beyonce, shaved my legs and zipped off to class. FRESH. And then peaced out for a solid nap in the afternoon.

Sometimes I'm too stressed to wake up at 6:45 for a morning ride, so I'll do it in the afternoon. Sunrise is infinitely better, though. The air's crisp, my mind's clearer than it'll be at any other point later in the day and not another soul's on the trail. And breakfast, an already perfect thing, is even better. And then I smile to myself when I slip back into my neighborhood and everyone's just rolling over to snooze their alarms. It is getting exhausting, though. Especially now during midterms and everything. But I've got to keep this promise to myself -- and through the next seven months, too.

Dang.

DANG.

(That second iteration is me realizing I graduate in seven months.)

Now that October's here I've started on with the 25 mi/day thing and the extra 2.5 miles each way really isn't that bad. To be honest, the hour-and-a-half-ish it takes to do the whole thing flies by. Recently, though, it's been taking me the first five or so miles to just get my mind to stop racing through lists and itineraries.

What's this afternoon look like? How many hours of sleep can I squeeze in tonight? Did I get around to those edits on that one story? Shit, I shouldn't be biking right now. No, stop it. This is for you. Ugh, I really ought to call my brother and finish helping him with those college essays. Nah, he's got it. I'm so hungry. Ugh waffles. It's so gorgeous out here.

That's a pretty accurate excerpt of first-five-mile thoughts for ya. I'm leaving town for Portland Wednesday morning, so the rest of this week will be laid back, but going to fit in one last ride tomorrow morning. The day's super packed so I'm heading out for this one around 6:30.

Bonne nuit.

gifter, reveal yourself

Alrighty, alrighty.

I'm on the hunt for the someone(s) who sent me some surprise bike stuffs.

WHO ARE YOU COME CLEAN. MOM IS IT YOU?

(nope, already asked. and asked my aunt and other aunt and etc. etc.)

Earlier last week, I fell asleep on the couch ogling at foodgawker...right after I'd eaten lunch (don't hate)...and was awaken by a few rapid-fire knocks on the front door. I'd recognized them to be the UPS dude's and sure enough, there he stood in his brown-clad, gift-bearing glory. I signed for a large box as my mind shuffled through all the things it could possibly be; I hadn't ordered anything recently, so I was stumped. Plus, I was still in my post-nap grog and hadn't quite yet fully assimilated back into real life thus creating an environment of most supreme confusion.

Anyway, I opened up the box to find a set of panniers! Just straight up ordered from Amazon, no gift note or anything else.

So, ok, who was this?! If you're reading this, message me or text me (if you know my address, I'd expect you know my phone number) so I know who to thank please. You're awesome.

And then a few days later I got another little mystery package: the toolkit I'd listed on the "halp" page on here! I was having a pretty crap day that day, too, so it was a pleasant surprise. But, again, who the frump sent this? EXPOSE YOURSELF. The kit's awesome and much needed, so thank you much. I just have to figure out how to use all these little tools and etcetera.  

Also want to shout out to my main man David Eardley for the awesome birthday gift: the waxed canvas + leather handlebar bar.

THANK YOU ありがとう DANKE 谢谢 MAHALO. I'll pack a picnic in it for us to enjoy, except since you're in New York, I'll just eat your share and tell you how it is.

But yeah, the bag's neat -- had to make some adjustments and poke a couple extra holes in the leather straps to make it fit just right, but it's holding up well now. Nice to be able to stow away my water, u-lock, phone, etc. in there instead of carrying it on my back. Perfect for those morning rides I just started up. Also found out about this app called STRAVA that keeps track of your rides and progress and all that snazzy jazz. You can peep my profile for that here. Or just check back here to keep tabs:

And I'll leave y'all with a pic from this morning's ride down the Hawthorne Trail.

I should add that I saw a giant (almost bovine-like) wild boar, 2 wild turkeys and about 6 deer -- I almost hit one of the lil' baby deer but at the exact moment we both noticed each other, it sprinted off to the grass in a flurry and bumped its head into its mother's butt. It was cute.

dis fitness bidniss

So, in daydreaming/planning/fantasizing about this trip I run into the same memory each time: the Oregon bike ride. Very few people reading this will know what I'm talking about.

Basically, summer after high school graduation, two of my best friends and I went out to Oregon and traveled around by bus. And one leg of the trip was from Cannon Beach to this smaller town south, which due to poor coordination of public transit, we had to take a taxi to. One of my friends left all her photo gear (lenses, camera body, etc. effects) on a picnic table in Cannon Beach. And we realized this after we'd finally made it to our next town. Luckily some good soul returned all her gear to a nearby bed+breakfast, all we had to do was come pick it up.

Our only option was to bike those 24 miles round-trip, so we rented some bikes the next morning and did. I was still rowing at that time, so I was in pretty good physical shape. That ride was still really dang tough. Almost sweating just thinking about it. But it was one of those things that sucked so much it was funny. And besides, punctuated by the beautiful cliffside views of the Pacific Coast, things could've been worse. Sure is easy to say that from the comfort of my pajamas and this mountain of pillows here on my bed.

Anyway, right. So that was 24 miles, and it took us about 7 hours (cyclists, save the scoff). This trip, I'm looking at 50-60 miles in that same amount of time.

Note: a decent portion of those 7 hours were spent waiting for, ehm, one particular friend to walk her bike up the inclines, so.....yes.

And I don't row anymore. If there were such thing as anti-rowing, I'd consider myself a varsity anti-rower right now. My life is landlocked and pitifully sedentary; I spend most of my time staring at a computer screen or books. I have the water consumption habits of a raisin and whenever I do go to the gym, I spend half an hour beforehand downloading "upbeat and fun" music to sweat to.

You get it: I have my work cut out for me.

I've been functionally non-human (zombie-illness status) since Thursday of last week and am slowly getting better. I came down with something really terrible last week that I'd best describe as, well, death. That's what a 24-hour migraine and 48 hours of no appetite feels like, anyway. I'm definitely on the up this week and will likely be the full 100% this weekend, so training can begin Sunday.

And I guess this is my training plan:

(athletes and more legit cyclists, please feel free to comment/suggest changes/give advice on this. please, 'cause I feel like I'm just sitting here flopping my hands all over the keyboard with great ambition and little grasp on reality.)

Sep: 20 mi every day except Mon + Wed.

Oct: 25 mi every day except Mon + Wed.

taking the second week off 'cause I'll be in Portland.

Nov: 20 mi Tues, Thurs + Sat.; 30 mi Fri + Sun.

taking last week in November off because of thanksgiving and finals, thus anticipated hell.

Dec: I don't know -- it'll be finals and I'll be megastressed and scared of everything and not sleeping, so we'll see how that goes.

Definitely thinking of investing in an indoor bicycle trainer stand (something like this) to not only get accustomed to riding my bike long distances and breaking in that saddle (vs. cycling at the gym), but also just for the convenience of not necessarily having to leave my home/driveway if I'm really busy, tired, the weather's bad, etc. etc.

Kind of pricey, but maybe it's worth it?

the pimping of the ride

Bike's getting swagger (adjective, not noun; pretty sure the noun is spelled "swagga"). I'm still pretty much the same. Oh yeah, except I'm twenty-one now. As of today. So, that's a cool, new thing. But speaking of cool, new things, let's peep the swag:

CatEye Velo 9

CatEye Velo 9 Cyclocomputer:

Got this lil' guy for $20. Haven't tinkered around much with it, but so far, it seems to work pretty well. For its compact size, it's got an impressive range of functions: current/avg/max speed, elapsed time, calorie consumption, trip/total distance, a clock (surprisingly awesome thing to have attached to your bike), and carbon offset meter.

I don't really trust calorie consumption things much unless they're based on a heart rate monitor, but s'ok -- I'm just riding my bike to ride my bike. The carbon offset thing is pretty neat, though. Little bit of a morale booster. It gives you a read of your carbon offset in kg by multiplying your trip distance (km) by 0.15, which is some magic number determined by the Ministry of Land, Infrastructure and Transport and Tourism. ("Ministry" -- hehe.). It's the grams of CO₂ emitted from the average vehicle's 1km drive. I read somewhere a person exhales 0.9 kg CO₂  /day, so I'd have to ride at least 3.7 mi/day to offset my mere existence*.

*if my existence was comprised of simply me sitting naked in the middle of the woods not using any electricity or having any material possessions. In which case, I wouldn't even have this little bike computer, or a bike. Or if I did, I'd have to factor in the CO₂  emissions from the entire manufacturing+shipping process for both and then account for that appropriately by biking more to offset more...but then I'd probably be heaving and breathing more from biking so much, thus emitting even more carbon dioxide. And, you know, biking naked would be entirely uncomfortable, so I'd probably have to get some clothes. Oh my god now I've burdened myself with envirostential guilt; I wonder how much CO₂ emissions/day a single person is responsible for from the life-cycle analysis perspective.

Oh my god humans are parasites.

I'M A MONSTER.

Onward.

Brooks leather bar tape:

The bar tape has been broken in by its previous owner and so it comes to me supple and tanned. It's soft but sturdy + tough. Feels great to pull back on it when I'm riding. It wasn't too difficult to put on. The handlebars are plugged with cork, which is a classy little finishing touch. I snagged the bar tape + saddle off a bike that was originally advertised on Craiglist, but then the guy decided to just dismantle it + sell it for parts and offered me the bar tape, saddle + rain cover, and a tin of Proofide leather dressing all for $100. (Brand new would've cost about $225.00. COOL, RIGHT?!)

Brooks B17 Narrow saddle

I've been drooling over Brooks saddles for, um, a good while. They're just so sexy. And imagining breaking that leather in -- best not get me started. But of course, what's form without function? Why opt for a hard and [initially] unforgiving leather saddle when I could treat my cheeks to a nice gel cushion? The saddle, though I bought it technically secondhand, is brand new. Great because this means it'll be broken in to form to my shape and my shape only. Not so great 'cause of the whole breaking in process. I expect the first tens of miles to be painful and rigid. The leather really needs to mold to my bones. A gel saddle, on the other hand, would be super comfortable initially, but for long rides over a long lifespan, probably going to get some major butt pains. See, all you're really sitting on when you bike is your "sit bones." Sit on your hands real quick and you'll feel what I'm talking about. They're the reason cyclists' race bikes have those buttfloss-esque seats; the sit bones are supported and impress upon the saddle. The gel saddle squishes up and pushed on the tissue past your sit bones and that's what'll get ya in the long rides. Plus, the gel will move around, compress and get weird over time -- not exactly made to last.

 But(t), I mean, regardless, 50 miles a day is gonna feel like, well, 50 miles in one day.

 I just have to not remind myself of that over the next couple of months I'm breaking my new guy in. I am fully aware of (yet unprepared for) how painful this process will be.

But by god will it be rewarding.

And to wrap it all up, here's me feeling up the bar tape and being a perfectionist about its alignment, tautness, etc. It was fun.

Now, I snagged the saddle and the handlebar tape for a great deal via Craigslist ($100 for both, including a seat cover and leather upkeep oil), all of which would cost $316 new. ZING.

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whaaatcha doin', lils?

So, let's start off with some bio basics: I'm just finishing up undergrad here at UF [insert school-spirited chant here, I guess]. Majoring in environmental science, minoring in sustainability and the built environment and Chinese. I'm the editor of a neat-o lil' independent magazine called The Fine Print and I love it -- it's tough work and I don't get paid for it, but I consider my salary one of...uh, warm fuzzies. When I get to hear from our readers how much they love The Fine Print and they thank me and the other editors for everything we're doing, I know it's right. And it makes me incredibly happy. And I remember why it's worth the lost sleep and that sixth cup of coffee. If only our economy ran on warm fuzzies.

But yeah, long story short: I'm happy with these last four years of my life, proud of myself for all I've done, better off from the mistakes I have made, humbled by the people I've met. It's been a good run. As a graduation gift to myself, I'm going to take myself on a bike ride. Seattle to San Francisco, baby. It's been something I've been dreaming about for a while...probably took seed after an impromptu (and hellishly painful) 24-mile ride through the Oregon coast cliff tops almost four years ago. It's resurfaced in my mind-escapes here and there since, but really began consuming my thoughts around six months ago. What if I actually could do this? Nah, I def can, it's totally possible. Ok, with whom, though?

And I'm still kind of mulling that over, actually. I've been keeping up with one of my friends the past few months, and we're definitely entertaining the idea of doing it together, but I guess we'll see how things turn out down the line. For now, I'm just planning as I'm I'll be doing this thing solo. (To any family reading this: dude, it's all right. You know I'll be fine and safe. Please recall 2012 summer coupled with my current status of existence. No, no -- I know it's all out of love. I love y'all, too.) 

This trip'll be the first of its kind for me -- I'm a commuter-and-just-because cyclist: I ride my bike to classes, to the grocery store, to run errands, or I'll pedal around town, blithely weaving through Gainesville's pockets of historic neighborhoods to take advantage of a day's sunshine and breeze. Basically, I'm casual. I'm not, like, some insane-o cyclist who's just like, yeah, just another bike tour. Here, let me tell you about it all with bike lingo and other cool-sounding stuff. 

I'm straight up herpderpin' my way through this from ground zero. And here's the ground zero I'm working with:

It's an old Trek, steel frame. Bought it from a gal named Kentucky and she's taken it on two tours before, so good to know it holds up well. It's incredibly light compared to my old Cannondale hybrid, which I sold. It was weird...I'd been eyeing this bike on Craigslist for a while and finally decided to just throw my bike up there and see if I got any bites. It was test ridden and sold within 20 minutes of the posting. This was in the evening and I arranged to test ride/buy this Trek early the next morning, but from the moment I'd sold my old bike to the second I adopted this guy, I felt so...incomplete and naked and and helpless. Even though I knew I wasn't going to be using my bike in the interim, I was having some serious separation anxiety. Is this what people who don't own bikes feel like all the time? Christ.

Anyway, it's definitely a solid frame to build off of and upgrade. I'm thinking I'll definitely need to get a brake lever added to the handlebar tops, probably new wheels, and new handlebar tape for sure. Taking it to the dudes at this great local bike shop, 8th Ave Bike + Coffee House, to see what they think. They're real helpful and honest guys; I trust 'em with this stuff.

I'll keep y'all posted on the entire process of getting this new ride in shape. And, yeah, myself, too. I honestly don't even know if I'm physically equipped to do a legitimate hill at this point. Yeesh.