Day zero

    The last few days have been a whirlwind.   Clearly the effects of sleep deprivation have added a layer of dullness to my already lackluster thought processes.   Three days ago, I made the error of having two cups of espresso at 5:30 PM in celebration of Barry's new espresso machine.  By 1:30 AM I was still awake, working on flight reservations for our upcoming Alaska trip in August.  I then woke Kris up at 2AM to get her approval for the flights.  I did manage to get some sleep and then rode around 95 miles the next day.  Afterwards, there were last minute errands....Target, bank, Dairy Queen, Midwest Mountaineering for socks....and then on to more packing.  I became unusually obsessive about organizing my things in the duffel by putting every like-item into own labeled plastic baggy (using my new label maker) and then sorting those baggies into even larger baggies. I spent two days on this.  (Those that know me, that have seen my desk at work or closet at home will have trouble reconciling this neatnik view of me with what they have personally observed.)  It didn't all go smoothly.   My favorite shirt had gone AWOL although it later inexplicably turned up hanging in the closet.  I also wasted 2 hours looking for a lost sock.  I tried to let it go but just couldn't.  Finally, I managed to cut my finger opening up, of all things, a bandaid container.   An odd convenience. 
    Finally, late yesterday it was all done and the moment of truth was at hand.  Time to weigh in.  The bike trip requires that the duffel weigh no more than 35 pounds, the backpack no more than 15.  Based on the calculations I made when I was planning on using a suitcase, the final weight with this 9 pound lighter duffel should be just a shade under 35 pounds.  Why it weighed 42 pounds was a mystery.   Perhaps higher humidity  caused it to absorb more fluid.  Or maybe my pillow with its growing dust mite colony weighed more than I thought.  Regardless, I went back to square one and started to cull out item after item.  Away with the bag balm.  Goodbye to the electric toothbrush and charger.  I got it down to 38 pounds.  One of the final casualties was my Team Mayflower jersey.  Sorry team.  Removed.  Gone.  Final weight was 37 pounds including the two pound bottle of bourbon which I refuse to part with.  That and my pillow are my comfort items.  My packpack also weighed in at 2 pounds over, having added a dozen popcorn packets in a final last minute flurry.   If they're sticklers about the weight,  I might be throwing a popcorn and bourbon party in my room tonight.     
    The ticketing person at the airport thought there was an error with my ticket.  She asked how it was possible that I'd be flying into Santa Ana and flying out of Boston.  How was I planning on getting to Boston?  By bicycle, I replied.  She nodded at me and gave me the once over.   If she could have verbalized the expression on her face, it would have been, "No chance."
    My son, Nathan, was kind enough to drive me to the airport at 4:30 AM.   He asked me where I currently stood on the spectrum of excitement and anxiety.  I told him that at the moment it was more like 60% anxiety and 40% excitement.  But as I think about it now, as I'm about 1 hour from arriving into Santa Ana, it's just not that simple.   It's more like trying to describing the complexities of a wine.  In my case, mixed in with excitement and worry are hints of sadness, traces of loneliness, and overwhelming pangs of fear.   Yes fear.  I'm scared.   The ride ahead is completely unchartered territory.  Reading over the America by Bike material this AM, I was reminded by their "requirements" for training.  You should start your training 6-8 months ahead and plan to spend the last two months riding 300-350 miles a week.  I've  been on my bike for a total of three weeks now and two of those weeks I've ridden 300 and above.    I have not prepared for this in any ideal sense, with the Minnesota winter to blame.  Sure, I've done a lot of spinning this winter, but spinning indoors and riding outdoors are not the same.   Regardless, I will soon find out it I measure up or are sent home packing.  I'm just glad that I've got that bourbon. 
     Well, I've now spent the last 6 hours getting both oriented and terrified.  After arrival, I spent some time with Jim, the bike mechanic, who helped me reassemble the bike.  Very nice guy, very mellow.  Then it was 3 hours of introductions, bike safety talk, the route we will take tomorrow, signing of papers, the likelihood that your tire will get shredded along the route, that we will have stretches that we will be riding on the interstate, and that there is to be no booze in our luggage that will be transported, which is apparently against rules involving commercial transportation.    I fessed up about the bourbon and it was placed inside my empty bike case which will get transported to Amesbury waiting for me at the end of the ride.  As for the riders, they all look like they're in incredible shape and have been training for this for years, doing double centuries, some even triple centuries.  They were not impressed by my Lake Superior swim of two miles, nor my second place finish (out of 4) in my age group at the Square Lake Half Ironman.  Whether I'm completely over my head on this will be more clear in the days to come.  For now, I'm just happy to be able to sit quietly in my room and think how great its going to be to finish this ride 33 days from now and crack open that bourbon.  By the way,  it was my birthday today.  I'm 56 now.  

-Grinner