Back from the dead

Train to Washington DC Friday, October 29, 2021

I thought I was done. Maybe I am done. But I’ve decided to give it another go.

It was good to be back. Despite all my trepidations, it was clearly the right thing to do. Thanks to all of you for the supportive comments, calls, and letters. I got one more day in the mile-high city with my terrific hostess, we saw the Molly Brown mansion and a couple of awesome art galleries, before we scored a great sushi dinner; she drove me to the airport the next day. Shipping the bike and gear home was crazy expensive but easy. By Sunday night, I was back in lovely Vermont, just in time for a primo September and that famous foliage. We took a bunch of hikes, saw a bunch of friends, and I did my wigged-out Boston to Provincetown ride for the 36th (and I think last) time.

But what happens to a dream deferred? I’m not too fond of raisins and God knows Vermont doesn’t get much sun. I didn’t explode, but I felt adrift. Without the press of having to go another 40-50 miles every day, it was too easy to just veg. As the Thane of Cawdor said, I had no spur to prick the sides of my intent. OK, enough with the hackneyed literary tie-ins.

The grim truth was, I had no other plans for my retirement. All last year was spent planning the ride, preening my steed, and waiting out the pandemic. Back home, I didn’t feel safe resuming until I could get a stress test (equivocal, but without worrisome signs) and my booster. I was first in line when Moderna #3 got approved last Friday; piggybacked with the high-dose flu shot we seniors are supposed to get, it was a few days before I felt up to snuff. Now I’m ready to bolt.

Between the short hikes and rides I was doing, I spent too much time in the Barcalounger (the “death chair”, my family calls it). My poor eating habits continued, so you can imagine the results. Of course the smart move is to take my diet by the horns, and work on a sustainable retirement plan. Of course.

Hope made me a lovely poster for my sendoff last April. It’s still taped to the garage entry door. Great to see it then, now not so much.

So there’s this big hole in the next few months where my trip was supposed to be. Never in favor of it, Jane was resigned to have me gone until next spring. She has her own trips planned with family and friends, and the bathroom/kitchen renovations loom, with their attendant disruption. Now’s my chance. One of the lessons of my golden years is to be flexible. Maybe I can salvage much of it.

As Hope’s rough map shows, the plan was to cross the northern states in the summer, drop down the west coast in the fall, and return across the southern states in the winter. Now winter is hard upon us, and as we speak I’m on a train from Vermont to my hometown of Washington DC. You can bring your bike, unboxed, for $20. I can “zero out” again at the sea-level Potomac, follow the towpath of the C&O Canal Historical Park, where I cut my teeth on bike touring, to the highpoints of the Alleghenies/Blue Ridge. I drove up these 50 years ago, but in my twisted logic, that “doesn’t count.” Breaking for the holidays, I’ll aim to follow the Appalachians south to Florida, then head west.

We’ll see if the weather cooperates. It’s raining heavily now, the towpath could be a muddy mess for a few days. A little snow is predicted in the Alleghenies. The days are getting shorter. With my winter gear, the bike is heavier than ever. This could be a fiasco. But hey, I’ve got to try.

Distance 4.9 miles, 5,454 total (I guess it’s OK to keep adding to the total) Elevation gain 212 feet