The time has come. Lea is finally starting a blog. Shudder.1) For those of you who don’t know me - I pity you. For those of you who do, I congratulate you.2) The main drive behind this piece of utter narcissism3) is that I’m going to Lesotho for my peace corps assignment and certain family members insist that I keep in touch4). However, I will certainly not limit my scope to family members, so be warned - no self-censoring.5) Of course, one doesn't have to be family to read this. I'll be sending out the link to anyone whom I've felt at all close to over the past few years. And maybe when you're really bored, you'll end up here.I'll update this every now and then to let everyone know I'm still alive and kicking, and share my immense wisdom of 23 years, and to try to be funny.6) Note that this does NOT mean don't send me emails asking how I am or whatnot7), but really just that I'm fairly free expressing myself in writing, at a distance, and that would not transfer well to actual conversations.

So, recent events of the summer. Attempted to ride my bike to Wilmington, NC - failed miserably.8) I set out a lovely afternoon around 4 in the afternoon, rode happily for a couple of hours, then rode with increasing misery for a couple more. I was navigating with an atlas and a coordinate GPS9), so I managed to quickly get myself lost by assuming I knew the roads around my house. Lost probably about an hour with that. At about 8 I had my first real pit stop, at one of those cheese biscuit southern institutions gas stations.10) There, I bought a lot of energy bars (I had brought some, but not nearly enough, I had by then realized), and water, and gatorade. I had already gone through of water, which I guess isn't too surprising considering I was hauling about on the bike, in the lovely North Carolinian humidity.

Uhhhh….Where was I?

The store, right. I had a couple of elderly 'gentlemen'11) ask me about my ride - they were suitably impressed.

“Is that your bike?” “It sure is.” “Damn.” “Where're you goin'?” “Wilmington, from Washington.” “Damn.” “How many miles?” “About a hundred and thirty.” “DAMN!”

And so on.

By the time I left it was dark, with only the lingering twilight left to navigate by.12) I was pretty exhausted by this time, so I was looking for a couple of trees to hang my hammock up on. I eventually passed a house with a row of pines separated from the house by some bushes, which looked perfect. I stopped. A minor mental storm ensued, debating the pros and cons of asking if I could sleep in the trees. Eventually I did knock, multiple times, and though a light came on no one ever answered. Ah well. One does what one can. I proceeded to do what any sane person would have done, and set up my hammock in a strangers yard without their knowledge.13) It worked out pretty well, considering it was pitch black by this time, and every time a car went by I froze, thinking it might be the residents. I managed to get all settled,14) and tossed and turned 'till about midnight. I then slept fitfully until 2am, when I decided I couldn't sleep anymore and packed up and went on my way.15))

Turns out, riding at night isn't so bad.16) There's little traffic, no sun, it's cooler, and you can still see the road.17) Around sunrise, the humidity really started picking up, and by the time the sun came up, I was in a dense fog, completely soaked and dripping water everywhere. It had to have been 100% RH, I mean, my fingers were pruny for heavens sake. Around this time I was really starting to get saddle-sore18), and was moving at about 10mph, down from my usual 12-14. Every shift of my body was an agony, and pedaling standing was short-lived relief. At 6-ish I hit a detour. I decided to ignore the signs and trust my luck19), and came up on a bridge that was completely out. Hurray. I cursed a bit, turned around, got out the atlas and found another route. A half-mile left into town turned into an agonizing, tortuous, 3 mile, half-hour detour.20) By the time I get into town21), I realize I still have AT LEAST another 7 hours, at which point I throw in the towel and ask my friend to come and pick me up, because I'm a wimp.22) If I hadn't been in a hurry, I would have just found a motel and collapsed for the day, but I hate to make excuses.23)

And that was my trip to Wilmington.

How I wished I would never have to say those words.
By which I mean I'm so sorry. I hear there's a support group.
Other than being an utter narcissist, of course.
Oh how the demands of society weigh on me.
Just kidding, I'm going to censor the everlasting @#*$5@ out of myself.
I might use a few footnotes - just every now and then. Not like I would overuse them or anything. If there's something you don't like on here, or something you would like to discuss with me about what I wrote, please don't.((So awkward.
Though that's the purpose of the blog…
A good failure though, the kind one learns from.
Not the turn-by-turn kind.
You know, the ones that don't accept credit cards out side, and that have a restaurant inside, of questionable sanitation, and is a bit of a general store. Which makes sense, because it was probably the only store in the town.
I use that term in the loosest sense possible.
And my flashlight, I guess.
Man, sane people sure are strange.
After having sprayed bug spray in my mouth…mmmm delicious.
Oh I forgot to mention, at about 1, a truck finally drove in, and went into the house. I broke out into a sweat (ok fine, I continued to sweat), laid there and prayed that he hadn't noticed me. After about 15 minutes of nothing, I 'relaxed' and 'continued sleeping'.
I much prefer driving at night, so I shouldn't be too surprised - it's the same reasons.
My butt hurt.
I had hit another before, but been able to go through it.
It sounds bad, but trust me, with the fatigue, it was much worse.
First step is recognizing, right?
Just kidding, I love excuses, but I call them reasons.
wiki/lifeandtimes.txt · Last modified: 2020/07/24 17:16 (external edit)
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