Kirksville Missouri to Quincy, Illinois 76 miles and 1700 feet of climbing

 As I sat in the McDonald's in Quincy, Illinois, right after finishing today's ride, I'm sure I was a site to behold for the 10 or so people who were also in the restaurant. Still in all my bike clothes, wearing a brightly colored "California" jersey, and spandex cycling shorts, my cycling shoes sounded like I was tap-dancing as I clip-clopped my way to the soda dispenser. I couldn't get there fast enough; I was so thirsty. The heat, combined with the distance of today's ride, made it challenging. One of the reasons you sign up for something as crazy as this is that you understand it will be a challenge on some days, and you hope you can answer that challenge and live to ride the next day. 

I sat down with my McDouble, french fries, and Diet Coke, and I could feel that my body needed not only fluids but food. Because of my stomach problems yesterday, I ate very little at today's first SAG stop in an attempt to stave off any stomach issues later in the day. Having done long, hot rides like this before, I have some sense of how my body is doing as the ride progresses and the miles accumulate. The heat always adds another level of complexity to this. Today I finished the ride in good time, and I was the third or fourth rider to sign in at the hotel, but I knew I needed to eat and drink right away. I felt spent. (Many of the riders, I am sure, stopped to eat before checking in at the hotel but with my crazy stomach, I like to get there ASAP.)

Slowly the burger and Diet Coke made me feel more normal. As I sat there, a guy in an orange tee shirt and doo rag asked me, 

"How far you going? It's pretty hot out there to be pedalin'."

I told him that we had just come from Kirksville.

He nodded and said, 

"Well, I'm ridin' my motorcycle to Arkansas. My girlfriend told me I should leave, so I said, 'OK,' hopped on my bike, and headed on down the road. My sister lives in Arkansas." 

I asked him how long that would take him, and he said seven or eight hours. He then explained his route, which sounded interesting, but in my tired state, I couldn't really follow it. He did have a plan to camp at a state park about a 5-hour motorcycle ride away. 

Right about that time, fellow rider Gene from New England walked into the McDonald's, looking worn out. This is a different Gene, not "Gene Gene the Pedlling machine," the 74-year-old retired physical therapist from Scranton, PA. This Gene is a charming lady who, in her introduction to us on the first orientation day, explained that she knew this would be a very challenging ride for her, and she was prepared to hop into the SAG wagon when things got to be too much. I believe she has picked her spots on this trip. Some days I don't think she rides at all. I passed her yesterday right before the 2 nd SAG stop, and she was walking her bike up the hill. I give her credit for giving it a go. Yesterday evening as I and another rider were walking to dinner, Gene joined us for the walk but then stopped and said she didn't feel up to it; she was so exhausted. We got to the restaurant, and the rider I walked with immediately went to a Crossroads staff member and said Gene didn't feel up to walking to dinner. Right away, the Crossroads van was dispatched to pick her up. I am so glad my fellow rider spoke up and got Gene the ride to dinner she deserved. I'll confess that when it comes to dealing with this tour staff, I engage as little as possible, I think for obvious reasons. It was good my fellow rider stepped up.  

The scenery on today's ride was much the same as it was for the last three days. Fields, farms, cows, small towns with one gas station, John Deere and Kubota farm equipment dealerships, Dollar General stores, beautiful big farmhouses, older weathered farmhouses, RVs, and manufactured homes. 

We are now entering what I call the land of the riding mower. Many of the homes and some of the businesses in this part of the country have massive, well-kept lawns. If fact, I have yet to see one dandelion on any of these lawns. Can you say Scotts Turf Builder? On these rides, it never fails; I always see a guy on an industrial strength riding lawnmower going at what seems like breakneck speed, mowing his expansive spread. Today I saw that scene playing out at a cemetery. With the speed this guy was whipping around those gravestones, it could have been a formula one race for riding lawnmowers. In fact, I'll bet that's what he's thinking about when he's at the controls of that bad boy. For all I know, he's considered the Mario Andretti of the riding mower in Knox County, Missouri. He was not messing around. 

Today we crossed the Mississippi River and entered Illinois. We are staying in the town of Qunicy, which sits right on the river and has a population of about 39,500

 

I have always known what the word steerage meant ever since I watched the movie Titanic. I looked it up today. The Merriam-Webster definition of the word steerage is:

 "The part of a ship providing accommodations for passengers with the cheapest tickets."

Example: "poor emigrants in steerage"

"You and I are steerage Dave.", my fellow rider said tersely the other night at dinner. 

"I think I'm getting the short end of the stick hangin' out with you."

He started laughing, and I did too. I told him that if he did not want to be associated with me for the remainder of the trip, I would completely understand and not take offense.

This is the same rider who has, over the last three weeks, become disillusioned with the crack team of professionals that make up the Crossroads Adventure Cycling staff. He senses favoritism toward certain riders.

"Shocking!" I exclaimed before bursting out laughing again.  

I can see the anger building in this guy as he does his best to keep a lid on his emotions. 

"Dave, I try to be a Christian man, but some days it just don't work out that way. But I try."

I asked him the other night to give me a heads-up if he feels an eruption is imminent. I plan to grab my bike helmet, take cover and thoroughly enjoy the show.  

Today we had to wait for almost two and a half hours for our rooms to be ready. This hotel, like many others, can't find enough help since the pandemic. The housekeepers were apologetic as I walked to my room, but I assured them that we all understood they were doing their best under tough circumstances. 

Oh joy, 105 miles to look forward to tomorrow.