August 5. The 2023 NoTier Team Arrives in Seattle.

After getting home Friday from the beach in NJ, I repacked for a 2.5 day trip to surprise the Bike the US for MS Northern Tier team as they finished their 70-day, 4,295-mile cross country bike trip in Seattle.  I landed at 1am Saturday, but managed to get in a run in downtown Seattle in the morning and met up with the van and trailer outside the hotel upon my return.

I helped set up the finish line and waited with anticipation for the team to arrive at 1pm, along with the friends and family of the other riders.  There were lots of hugs and tears upon arrival and throughout the celebration.  They dipped their tires (and I was wishing I'd ridden in with them, so I could dip a tire and be in the photo, too) and sprayed champagne.

We ate and told stories and, eventually, walked to the hotel.  Everyone dispersed for a few hours and met up again at Flying Bike Brewery in the evening with other alumni who were in town to start the next leg of the trip, which is a one-week trip around the Olympic Peninsula before the start of the Pacific Coast Tour that will go from Seattle to San Diego.

Even as a segment rider, I knew how much this trip had impacted the riders.  This group seemed particularly close.  Perhaps it was because it was a smaller group.  Perhaps it was because everyone came in not knowing anyone else.  Perhaps this group just had a certain level of heart and depth that allowed them to connect on a more meaningful level than I had experienced on previous trips.  Even on my one week with the group, I grew to love each person in some way and I witnessed their deep bonds.  The anticipation of the end and knowing they wouldn't all be together again in this same way brought some level of apprehension for it to all be over.  These rides are truly life-changing, both for those living with multiple sclerosis because of the funds raised for the lives it'll impact, but also for the challenges overcome and deep relationships forged over 10 weeks.  Even though it was kind of crazy for me to fly out and surprise everyone, I followed the team from the start of the trip and even more so after I rode my segment mid-way through the trip.  I wish, with all my heart, that I could have done the entire trip, but I'm so thankful for what I did ride and for the relationships I formed.  I look forward to keeping in touch with my 11 new friends and seeing where we see each other again - perhaps at graduation and retirement parties, potential weddings, or simply meeting up on other rides locally or on other Bike the US for MS tours.  Regardless of when or how we see each other again, it'll never quite be the same as it was this summer for the cyclists.  Nearly everyone is going through a life transition and starting a new chapter.  This portion of their lives will forever be memorialized as the Bike the US for MS Northern Tier 2023 Team.  It can be very difficult for people who haven't had this experience to not only not understand the inside jokes, but also not understand the emotional changes and life experiences that occurred.  So, if you know someone who has a similar experience as this, please try to be understanding about their post-trip blues and missing life on the road.  It's not that they're ungrateful to be home, but perhaps the nostalgia of what they experienced and transitioning back into "normal" life can be overwhelming.

Thank you so much to everyone for following my short journey this summer and for being interested in this cause and experience.

If you'd like to make a donation to Bike the US for MS, it will be gratefully received here:

https://ride.biketheusforms.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=donorDrive.participant&participantID=1436&_gl=1*1nusr5b*_ga*MTcwNDY5NjMyNS4xNjc5OTYwNTQx*_ga_CFGFP5CY1Z*MTY5MTM3NDU0Ni44Ny4wLjE2OTEzNzQ1NTYuMC4wLjA.

Day 8. Bismarck, ND to Alexandria, VA.

Day 8.  Sunday, July 9.  Bismarck, ND to Alexandria, VA.

It was a warm, but quiet Sunday morning in Bismarck, North Dakota.  It was pretty sunny when I awoke sometime before 7am.  Honestly, time is blurry and I'm not quite sure when I got up.  However, of utmost importance, was getting to the Caribou Coffee that was 1.1 miles away.  I did not have nearly enough Caribou Coffee on this trip, since I can't get it back home.  Jeremy was all in for the walk, which we both needed after the multiple back-to-back centuries.  Holy heck, my quads were sore and screaming at me!  My face was also the most puffy it's been all week.  I think it was mostly a build-up of cortisol that occurs with high amounts of exercise back-to-back with little time for muscle repair.  With exercise, your muscles are literally tearing, which causes a stress response, hence, the release of cortisol.  On top of that, I had been eating gluten and dairy, both of which cause me to retain water and I'm certain I wasn't balancing my electrolytes as perfectly as I could have been throughout the rides.  Needless to say, it was a bit scary to be so puffy.  While I didn't want to go home, my body probably needed the break.  I am very curious, though, if my body could have eventually leveled out to the chronic exercise stress.  I'd love to try again and see!

After a brisk walk to and from Caribou Coffee for mochas, we returned to the team chowing on a fabulous assortment of breakfast foods back at Nettie's and Jack's, to which we, gleefully, joined in.  I still needed to pack up a few things before we headed out for the morning's service project nearby, which I did begrudgingly.  I really wanted to be able to participate in the service project prior to my 1:30pm flight from Bismarck through Denver to BWI.  As the team gathered to take a group photo of our crazy bike short tan lines and one with Nettie and Jack, I told Route Leader Emma that I wanted to "speechify."  She started and I was so choked up that it's all fuzzy as to what was actually said, but I know it was meaningful.  They also gave me a super sweet card that they all wrote personal notes on, which I saved to read at the airport.  (The card was awesome and made me super happy.)  I felt like I was almost mentally blacked out with all of the emotions of having to say goodbye.  Before I was even able to get a word out, I started to cry and thanked everyone for welcoming me in to the group, especially after the relationships had already been established, and for all the support throughout the week.  I probably wouldn't have done with the trip had I not had the extra nudge from Jeremy to sign up, after I had visited the Atlantic Coast group when they came through Alexandria back in May.  Every year, I always want to do a segment, but it's hard to find a week that works logistically.  I had already been pondering the trip and I'm so glad I did it.

Around 9:30am, everyone loaded up into the vans and we headed to the lovely home of Susan, who has MS.  She needed exterior work done, such as weeding and mulching, power-washing the house, tree-trimming, and other general landscaping.  She was really sweet and welcoming, providing us with water and bathroom, if needed.  It was a really hot day, so the cold water was very much appreciated!  She used to do the gardening herself and I could tell she was really sad to not be able to do it anymore, as her MS symptoms have made her a little unsteady.  She was quite thankful we were there to help.  She has a beautiful property, but it was nice to be able to get it looking the way she really wanted it to look.

When my "airport alarm" went off at 11:30am, I procrastinated on starting my farewells, but I knew I had to face the music and go give my hugs.  I was a blubbering mess, sobbing bittersweet farewell tears with each person I hugged.  I was truly shocked and touched when a few shed tears along with me.  I'm not sure this group of cyclists really understands how much they made me feel welcomed and loved.  I have so much awe, respect, adoration, and love for my fellow teammates.  Perhaps it was because the team was smaller and it was slightly easier to connect with more of them, but I truly believe it had to do with who they each are as a person.  Each person on this team would look at me and talk to me like they were really listening and interested in getting to know me.  They are genuine souls and I'm so thankful to have met each and every one of them.  My only regret is not staying longer to be able to build those relationships even more so.  I feel like I broke my own heart by leaving the team.  Maybe that sounds dramatic, but even as 9 full days have passed since I left the team, I still feel like I was meant to stay.  Don't get me wrong, I missed my animals, family, and friends, but there is a part of me that honestly feels like I am meant for living on the road somewhat.  I've not really done it long enough to know what my breaking point is, but I never seem to tire of that lifestyle.  Perhaps, someday, I can give it a go until I tire of it.

Jeremy dropped me at the airport, but his unrelenting generosity didn't stop at a curb drop-off.  Knowing how ungodly heavy my bike box and duffel were, he helped me lug them into the airport for check-in.  I had forgotten to put zip ties on the bike case, so he, quite smartly, zipped 4 into a bundle on one of the hinges, figuring TSA would know they were there to re-zip tie all of the latches on the bike box.  On my way out to Minnesota at the start of the trip, I had left a note that explained there were extra zip ties, but I had forgotten such a note for the return trip.  TSA read the tea leaves from Jeremy and used that bundle of zip ties to secure the bike box latches.  Smart thinking, Jer!  We took a moment to explore the dinosaur displays at the airport and I bought him a slice of pizza for his troubles, then we said our goodbyes.  It took every bone in my body to walk through Security and not turn back and say I was going to continue on the trip!  I flew out over the Missouri River and Fort Lincoln State Park, where our century ride had taken us the day before.  My travels home were smooth, but I really longed to be with the team.

The post-trip depression the next few days were tough, but I was thankful for seeing Facebook posts from my new friends and for the ability to keep in touch via text.  It took all week to unpack, but once I did laundry, I discovered one of my trusty PayDay candy bars had survived the washer AND the dryer, ha!   I also discovered that dried road mud (from riding 60 miles in the rain without fenders) in your chamois doesn't wash out!  My bee sting was itchy all week, but now it just looks like a burn mark.  I'll spare you the photos of my chamois and bee sting!

In all seriousness, I've taken a bit of time to write this last blog about the trip because 1) I wanted to avoid wrapping it all up and having to face the end, but 2) I wanted to give myself time to process the emotions.  I was riding so high on the trip and the relationships when I left that I knew I wasn't totally thinking clearly.  As the last 9 days have passed, however, I'm seeing everyone's posts on Facebook from the trip and it's both giving me terrible FOMO (fear of missing out), but I also am able to still feel connected to what they are all experiencing.  As much as the purpose of this trip is to raise funds and awareness for MS, it certainly has many side benefits, as well.  You realize you can overcome pain and discomfort, and you do so knowing those living with MS have to deal with discomfort and uncertainty daily.  You forge deep friendships.  I know this team will come away with truly lifelong friendships, as they can only know and describe the things they experienced together - wind storms, torrential rains, scary highway riding, so much laughter, inside jokes, camping, miles upon miles in the saddle, and so much more.

About myself, I've come to realize how much I really throw all of my attention and emotional energy into these experiences.  We all talked/joked on the trip about having ADHD because of the never-ending energy of the group (some even go for runs before/after putting in 7 hours on the bike!), but I think it also speaks to the ability of everyone to very intensely be engaged with each other.  My family and a few close friends seem to understand how I get hyper-focused when I'm on these trips and lose touch a bit, but I also very much want to savor the limited time I have on such a trip.  I'm fairly touchy-feely in that I like to come away with having had deep and meaningful conversations with each person at some point, as that is what forges a true bond for me.  I couldn't be sharing bathrooms and seeing everyone in their true lights with only having surface-level conversations.  This means that I come home feeling very attached to all of my new friends.  I know it dies down some over time, but my memories of these people will be of the laughter we shared and their support for me when I really wasn't feeling so great on the bike.  I just wish I'd had more time with them, as we'll never all be together again in quite the same way.  I suppose one can equate it to a summer camp experience and the friendships and memories that get forged in that environment, but my therapist actually also equated it to war because it's not necessarily all fun and it's an intense, encapsulated environment.  There are some days that are hard, but you lean on each other to pull through.  This group had an amazing upbeat attitude and spirit, finding joy in every day; it was truly one of the most positive experiences I've ever had.  I'm so thankful for it.

To all the donors, I'm ever-thankful for your contributions to this organization.  I have so much respect for the work they do through service projects and financial contributions to MS research, as well as to MS centers where patients are treated.  The founder's mother had MS and he desperately wanted to find a way to help.  Hundreds or maybe thousands, by now, of Bike the US for MS cyclists have been pedaling all over the US and the UK for this cause and I'm so grateful when I get to be a part of a ride.  Hopefully, one day, a cure can be found, but, in the meantime, I will keep on pedaling and spreading the word about how awesome Bike the US for MS is and what they are doing.  Hopefully sooner than later, I will be able to do a coast-to-coast trip or at least something longer than just 1 week.  It's never enough for my hungry soul-searching self!  Emma told me if I keep my bike packed, then the universe will present me with another bike trip. :)

Thank you so much for following the journey!

If you would like to give to this organization, please do so here:

https://ride.biketheusforms.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=donorDrive.participant&participantID=1436&_gl=1*1ksezxz*_ga*NjAzMjAzNTQ0LjE2ODk3MjA3OTU.*_ga_CFGFP5CY1Z*MTY4OTcyMDc5NC4xLjEuMTY4OTcyMDgxMS4wLjAuMA..

You can also sign up to join a future ride, if you feel called to the road, like I did!

Day 7. Napoleon, ND to Bismarck, ND.

July 8. Napoleon, ND to Bismarck, ND.

My last day of riding. Where has the week gone?!  To think I had only signed up for this ride 7 weeks ago and also changed/extended the trip to include 2 extra days of riding that included a century, but now it has already come and gone feels like a dream state to me.  The fact that I made it through my first century yesterday after a wicked migraine, but had no more body pain after the pain released (likely due to the simple lowering of my seat 1/4 inch) is still unfathomable to me.  So, today, I made sure to savor and enjoy every moment, whether hot or windy or with pain, if it returned.  I entered the day with the intent to soak up every last moment with these 11 new friends.

At camp in the morning in Napoleon, the group wasn't in a huge rush to get to Bismarck.  We had a relatively "short" day at a mere 72 miles, which was a lot to me at the beginning of the week, since my training rides hadn't been longer than 55 miles, at most.  I wasn't the last out of camp, but Jeremy and I wanted to hit up Mabel's Bakery on the way out.  Thankfully, it was open and we both enjoyed the most scrumptious Bavarian cream donut with a maple glaze.  I also picked up some dog biscuits as a gift for my sister (or possibly for my pup Mya that she was watching, if I found something else I wanted to give her dog).  Moseying on out of town, we left Napoleon sometime after 8:15am, which was decently late for this group.

Retracing our steps from the day before (the same extended route we had used to get to our century the day prior), the winds had changed and were no longer at our backs.  The traffic was quite light for a Saturday, but we were contending with a solid headwind on the rolling route to our first rest stop.  We reached Rest Stop 1 at a well-stocked gas station where we, smartly, picked up 6" subs for lunch... I'll tell you why that was so smart in a minute.

While relaxing at the rest stop, we'd heard that one of the strongest riders (both in physical strength, but also in mental fortitude), Kevin, had taken a spill on train tracks back near the start of the ride.  He decided to keep riding, but dropped back to ride solo.  Arriving at the rest stop, he said his ego was more bruised than anything else, to which we could all relate.  Falling off a bike is a scary experience, but doing it in the middle of nowhere on a cross country trip on busy country roads, shakes someone to their core.  The jolt of adrenaline insists you're okay, but its' anxiety-inducing power makes you doubt getting back on the bike, not to mention it seems like something so silly to have happened, but it does happen to the best of us!  However, he "got back on the horse" and persevered through the day; a smile eventually returning to his face.

I can hardly remember what the roads were like between Rest Stops 1 and 2, other than a busy road that wasn't great for having side-by-side riding conversations.  Though, I do remember a decent tailwind, a fun downhill that we hit 31.4 mph on, and plenty of fields.  We turned onto a calm, rural road for the last stretch to Rest Stop 2.  It was just Jeremy and I riding together, so we'd pull over and have water and snack breaks aplenty.  No rush.  It was a short day.  At one point, another rider, Joe E., rode back to us from Rest Stop 2, which was only a couple miles ahead.

Next thing we knew, Emily and Kevin were riding up to us, as well.  We chatted, took photos, and rode together to the rest stop, which was on the side of the road.  For the first time on my portion of the trip, all of the riders were together at the rest stop.  We sipped on amazing root beers that Ken and Janet had picked up.  While hanging out, I mentioned that I was mildly disappointed that I had realized I was going to be slightly shy of 500 miles for the week, but that was an arbitrary goal.  It's not like I really NEEDED to ride 500 miles.  Jeremy looked up the distances and confirmed I only needed 14 more miles to hit 500 for the week.  He, then, realized we both only needed another 14 more miles after that to hit 100 miles for the day, which would be his 3rd century in a row over the last 3 days and it would be my 2nd century in a row and my 2nd century ever.  He looked at me with a knowing look that I'd probably say, "yes", and said the day's famous last words, "I'm in, if you're in."  So, I got up and said, "LET'S GO!", knowing full-well that we still had nearly 50 miles to go for the day (since we had something like 19 miles still from that rest stop) and there was no time to waste.  What on God's Green Earth were we thinking?!  It was already after Noon and we were going to attempt an unplanned century??

As we set out on the next section of the road, it was along the Lewis and Clark Trail, but the road was under construction and very, very hot.  I felt baked by the sun and the rolling hills that were ahead were zapping my energy.  We quickly started to make excuses and justifications that it would be okay if we decided to bail and just ride the 72 miles for the day.  As quickly as we doubted our life choices, we reverted and knew that our egos would be disappointed if we didn't complete the ride.  He reasoned with me that the other riders would be impressed if I did a 2nd century in a row; I bought whatever he was selling to convince myself to follow-through. When else was I really going to ride two centuries in a row again?  I had plenty of reasons to not do it, but just as many to.  The FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) of not spending more time in the evening with the other riders ate at me the entire ride.  We would take side roads to try to add miles, but it was usually insignificant enough to make a dent.  I felt like we should have been farther along in ticking off the miles than we were by the time we hit the outskirts of Bismarck.  We met up again with some of the other riders who had caught up with us and I was feeling the pull of camp, dinner, and a shower.  Alas, my ego nagged at me, too.  We found a trail map and calculated that we could do 6 laps around a golf course to get us our remaining 30 miles. 30 MILES!  I wasn't sure I had it in me.  It was already 4pm or so; this would take HOURS.  Nevertheless, we persisted.  We explored the west side of Bismarck, staying just far away enough from camp to not give into its draw.  Once we hit the Missouri River, I proclaimed I wanted to cross it and I knew from then on, there was no turning back.  Jeremy discovered a nice trail that went into Fort [Abraham] Lincoln State Park, but it still wasn't quite enough.  We were running low on water and energy, and I felt the pull of the FOMO to get to camp.  We headed back towards camp, doing constant math, and trying to remain sane.  I can't even remember all the songs we sang, triggered by a single word that was said, or the loony conversations we had.  It was a bizarre experience, but one only the parties in attendance can understand.  When you spend 8 hours on a bike alongside another human, you naturally bond.  It's a unique experience, one in which I can only mildly compare to a Ragnar Relay race (a 200-mile overnight running relay race shared amongst 6-12 people in a van, except this isn't a relay, so you share all the miles and you do get to sleep at night).  Having done three 1-week segments with Bike the US for MS before, I knew I would come away with having forged new friendships around unique circumstances, which certainly happened on this trip.

Anyway, getting closer to camp, we had to double-back on a nicely shaded trail to get our last 4 miles.  We rolled into the driveway at 8pm at the house of our amazingly generous hosts, Nettie and Jack.  We felt a sense of accomplishment.  Though, it was also twinged with a bit of sadness that it was time to say goodbye.  We took a moment to obsess over our stats before heading in to chat with the other riders.

I could barely move.  The lactic acid flushed my muscles and fogged my brain.  Thankfully, Nettie, who has MS, had prepared a fabulous smorgasbord for dinner.  Nettie and Jack have been hosting Bike the US for MS cyclists for nearly a decade (minus a gap for covid) and it was all due to a chance meeting with a cyclist in the local grocery store.  We are so thankful for the lovely accommodations and continued friendship with Nettie and Jack year after year.  It truly means so much to us to have someone we've never met welcome us into their house to have somewhere comfortable to relax after so many days on the road, as well as to share connecting conversations that we will never forget.  We feasted on tacos, various salads, fresh fruit and veggies, amazing molasses cookies Jack's 97 year-old mother had made, and more.  My body was replenished.  I asked Nettie about her experience living with MS and how she discovered she had it almost 20 years ago, which sounded like a horrifying experience.  In my short time with her, it seems as though it is fairly well-managed with medication, thankfully, but I also realize it's unpredictable and I am only seeing a small window into her life with MS.  I had a great conversation with Jack about drumming, as he is a fellow drummer.  What fun it was to spend the evening with them and their adorable doggies, too.

I set up my tent in the backyard for one last camp out on the beautiful Bismarck night.  It was just Jeremy, the two Joe's, and myself out back.  The others chose beds, couches, or cool floor locations inside.  I knew the morning would be rushed to pack, so after a shower that nearly put me to sleep, I started to organize my gear.  I hadn't spread my stuff out too much, but I was certain I'd still leave something behind (which I did - my brand new wind vest!).  While I packed, Jeremy, who is also the team mechanic, broke down my bike to put into my bike box.  It's not a terribly complicated process, but it does take some time to make sure it's packed safely.

The sunset is deceiving up in the north country, as you think you have hours to hang out, but I was still up packing as the team was heading to bed - after 10pm!  I took a few moments to relax and enjoyed a celebratory beer before bed and reflected on the week.  As I was going to sleep, I listened to some neighborhood fireworks that someone was setting off (and another round a few hours later - after midnight!), thinking how the week had started with roadside fireworks on the drive from Minneapolis to Dalbo exactly one week prior.  My, how time flies.

It's crazy how simple words, like, "I'm in if you're in," can change the entire trajectory of a day!  I couldn't be more thankful to have such a supportive (and equally crazy) friend as Jeremy on the trip.  Despite missing out on a couple extra hours with the team, I'm still happy and proud of our accomplishment today.  Honestly, it doesn't get much better than savoring the pain and suffering of back-to-back centuries along the truly beautiful landscape of North Dakota.  I say that with utmost sincerity.

I will write one more blog for tomorrow on our service project and my travel home, including some reflections on the trip.

Thanks so much for following along, even on this especially long blog from today!  It was quite memorable!

If you'd like to make a donation to Bike the US for MS, please do so here:

https://ride.biketheusforms.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=donorDrive.participant&participantID=1436&_gl=1*79ax4o*_ga*MTcwNDY5NjMyNS4xNjc5OTYwNTQx*_ga_CFGFP5CY1Z*MTY4ODk5NTY3OS43MS4xLjE2ODg5OTYxOTkuMC4wLjA.

Day 6. Kathryn, ND to Napoleon, ND.

Friday, July 7. Kathryn, ND to Napoleon, ND.

During the night, I could hear a few snores from Jeremy (hehe, sorry, not sorry for the call-out, Jer!) in the next tent over, but I also heard an animal rusting around.  I thought I heard a mild, "Moo," but, surely, that was just the herd in the distance.  In the morning, Jeremy confirmed he watched a cow walk by our tents!  I think I saw the loner walking by the road when I left camp, too.

I awoke at 4:38am, riddled with anxiety.  I didn't want to get back onto the busy highway with all the trucks.  My body hurt tremendously and I felt extremely nauseated. My face was puffy and my body was sore. Regardless, I packed up, like usual, had some oatmeal, but I later realized I had skipped coffee, which would become a lesson learned.  I headed out for my first 100-mile day ever (it was supposed to be 97 miles, but with anything over 90, most go ahead and ride to 100).  Almost immediately, my chamois chafing started to hurt, sending piercing pain signals to my brain.  I really wasn't sure how I'd get through the day.  It was a long climb out of Kathryn and my body wasn't having it.  For the next 30 miles, my muscles were in a total seize.  My head hurt and I was having mental confusion.  I couldn't focus my eyes.  It felt like a combination of dehydration, lactic acid build-up, exhaustion, anxiety and/or a panic attack, and impending doom.  I was having a migraine, but I didn't yet realize it.  Due to our extra early departure (6:45am), the truck traffic wasn't quite as bad and it got even better after passing a major highway turn-off.  Shortly after getting back onto the main highway (Kathryn is about 4 miles off the main road), we crossed the Continental Divide.    My pain just kept getting worse.  I could barely pedal and struggled to ride for 5 minutes at a time.  I had never felt that badly and I knew something wasn't right.  The hardest part of these trips is being honest with yourself and others if you're not feeling well.  No one wants to have to quit and get in the van.  They all say there is no shame in doing it, but, yet, not a single person had to ride in the van yet over the month of the trip, so far.

Getting into Rest Stop 1, which was a buggy pull-off at the bottom of a hill on the side of the road, I announced I couldn't do it.  I hid behind the van and cried quietly.  I was so embarrassed to be quitting.  While I tried to soothe myself and be okay with the situation, I finally realized I was having a migraine.  I ended up taking a very long break in order to hydrate, take ibuprofen,  get some caffeine, and take a small dose of Xanax.  Lo and behold, the mental fog and anvil on my head started to lift.  My best bud Jeremy was driving the lead van that day and he intended to do a century by riding back to the rest stop to meet the group.  When I saw him, he was 38 miles in and I had only ridden 30 miles (so, I had to somehow still get through 70 miles), but I was feeling like I had been reborn and might be able to ride.  I was shocked, along with everyone else.  He helped me make some adjustments to my bike to see if I'd be more comfortable (dropping my saddle 1/4 inch and straightening my handle bars a tad.  I couldn't believe how much better I felt both physically and mentally.  It's hard to say exactly what was going on, whether it was anxiety and emotions driving my migraine or dehydration or hormones or what.  Regardless, I was relieved to be bouncing back.  I decided to give it a shot to continue riding.  He was determined to ride a century that day, which would be a 2nd one in a row for him since he had ridden one the day before.  He felt good and I felt great, somehow.

Rolling into the last rest stop, Jeremy and I still had quite a ways to go - I'm forgetting what our distance was at that time.  Less than a quarter mile from the rest stop, we rode through a small swarm of bees and one stung me on my upper, somewhat inner thigh.  And it was STUCK in my leg!  I nearly hit Jeremy while trying to swat it away, but somehow managed to not wreck.  I swell up badly from bee and wasp stings, so I wasn't sure how the next few minutes would go.  Would I use my Epi Pen?  If so, then I'd have to go to the hospital.  Would I be able to continue riding?  Immediately, at the rest stop, Jeremy got out Benadryl and an ice pack for me.  The stinger wasn't stuck in my leg, thankfully, and I didn't have any breathing issues (I've never had any with stings, but I just swell up badly at the sting site).  The ice seemed to keep the swelling down and I didn't seem to be having any other reaction.  However, could I still ride the remaining 50 miles or whatever it was?  I decided to keep going.  Right before we blasted off, Janet told us that a Sheriff said a tornado had touched down a few miles away and to "get moving."  (Where???)  I guess we were riding in the correct direction to get away, even though the sky looked a little ominous.  As much as I'd love to see a tornado, I certainly didn't want to get caught trying to outpedal one or hoping I could just lay in a ditch and be safe.  Besides the semi trucks from the day before, tornado and lightning were my two biggest concerns about biking through the Midwest in summer.

For most of the ride, we had favorable wind conditions and the rolling hills didn't seem to bother us.  We met up with a few of the other riders for a photo opp at a random place called Dinosaurs of the Prairie, which was a bunch of old farm tractors and machines along a little ridge.  As cheesy as this sounds, it felt truly magical to be savoring the day in a totally new light.

By the time we got to the turn-off for town in Napoleon, Jer and I still had to complete another 30 miles for me to hit 100 miles for the day.  Jeremy would end up with 105 miles, but he didn't mind.  (Yes, the math added up, somehow).  We decided to do an out and back to get the mileage.  The way out was super fun and we had the wind at our backs.  We were amazed at how rolling the hills of North Dakota were and the number of lakes there were interspersed, but we knew it might mean a painful return ride because of the wind.  The North Dakota landscape has been pleasantly surprising, even though it's endless farm fields.

Jeremy and I played mental games, had goofy chats, sang songs, talked a little philosophy, but I mostly devised an action plan of how long I could go before I needed to stop and chug water.  We are the same age, so it's been easy to relate and have things to talk about.  My shoulder pain never returned and even my discomfort in the saddle seemed to improve, even though the chafing really should have felt worse by then.  We did my water stops, had snacks, and took photos.  Even if it was nearly 7pm, we knew we had 3 more hours of daylight, if truly needed.

I don't really understand how I not only bounced back, but it was the best I had felt on the trip.  Jer and I had a really great heart-to-heart about our friendship and the trip overall.  We had very little traffic, so we were able to ride side-by-side, which makes it so much easier and nicer to talk while riding.  The last 10 miles of the ride were really tough, riding straight into a headwind.  Usually, anything under 10 miles is typically a breeze mentally, but we were thirsty and tired and ready to be done.  I had never ridden anything farther than maybe 84 miles, which was on a previous Bike the US for MS trip in either 2014 or 2015.  Getting through 100 miles today after the rough start to the day was a feat in and of itself.

Though we arrived at the campground in Napoleon, ND nearly 2.5 hours later than the rest of the group, everyone was super happy for our century and proud of me.  They always say there is no shame if you have to get into the van, but this was something I wanted to do for myself.  I wanted to ride a century.  I wanted to overcome the anxiety and bodily dysfunction.  I am so freaking stubborn!  Maybe I really am a crazy cyclist after all.

As soon as we got to camp, we, smartly, set up our tents, knowing we would soon turn into zombies. The campground had showers and the warm water made me so sleepy, but it felt amazing to be clean - washing off the bugs, sunscreen, salt, and dirt; cleaning myself of all the day's grime, while keeping the great energy flow state. Everyone else had eaten already, but they recommended a diner in town called The White Maid.  It was a short walk, which felt good after the day's ride.  We both ordered cherry-chocolate milkshakes and split breaded mushrooms, as well as our crazy meals.  I got a bacon cheeseburger that had two grilled cheese sandwiches for the bun and he had the 3 Little Pigs, which was ham, bacon, pulled pork and cole slaw on a bun.  Maybe we were just ravenous, but the food was to die for.

By the time we got back to camp, I had just enough time to make a s'more over the fire (but using a Reece's peanut butter cup, per Jeremy's recommendation) before catching the sunset over a field.  The s'more was tasty, despite the initial mental confusion over the peanut butter addition. I love fluffer nutter sandwiches, though, so PB, chocolate, and marshmallow is a great combo to me.

Everyone relaxed and celebrated their century day before going to bed later than usual around 11pm.

What an absolutely fantastic day!  It is a day I will remember forever.

Thank you for following along!

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Day 5. Fargo, ND to Kathryn, ND.

Thursday, July 6. Fargo, ND to Kathryn, ND.

Knowing today would be a 79 mile day, I tried to get up and out early.  I was somehow one of the first to leave, but a couple wrong turns caused some folks to get past me, not to mention I'm one of the slowest riders.  I feel like this group is either a bunch of early risers, but I feel like I never left camp until 8am on my previous trips.

Winding my way out of Fargo, the temp was in the low 50s and breezy, but it would be nearly 80°F by the end of the day, so wearing layers to shed at the rest stops was key.  I found my way out to University Street South, but ended up at the busy intersection for I-94, so I backtracked some to get back onto a bike path.  The bike path eventually ended and University Street became a country road.  I counted down the avenues until I got to 100 and made a right.  I thought I could take it all the way to 165 Street, which was the street our rest stop was on, but it turned out to be gravel eventually. So, again, I backtracked to Route 17, a semi-busy country road.  Eventually, after 25 miles or so, I made it to the rest stop.  I loaded up on snacks, almost overeating, but it held me through the next 30 miles.  On this stretch of road, though, my anxiety crept in and, at one point, two semi trucks nearly ran my off the road. I let myself have a quivering lip and get tears in my eyes for a few seconds, but I knew I couldn't cry the next 50 miles.  And, as much as I wanted to quit, my ego wouldn't let me.  This road had a 65 mph speed limit and was one of the few paved roads around.  Most every other road was gravel!  Tell all your gravel grinder friends that North Dakota is the place to be!  The highway had nearly no shoulder, so I'd ride in the lane and watch my helmet mirror for cars and trucks.  Whenever a semi truck would pass head on, the wind would nearly knock me off my bike, so I would tuck way down and hold on.  When one came from behind, I enjoyed the slight pull it gave after the initial wind gust. Not everyone moved over, which was absolutely terrifying.

At the 2nd rest stop, I stocked up on yummy treats in the gas station, including red licorice, Naked Juices, and some gluten-free beer ($10 for an Angry Orchard 6-pack, not bad!!).  Heading out for the last 22 or so miles, I decided to not feel rushed.  I would get off the road into the culvert, if I didn't feel safe with a truck passing.  Sure enough, one of the cyclists witnessed me doing this just as two semi's were passing right next to me and no shoulder for them, so there was no room for error or else I was a goner.  Truly terrifying. Most moved over, but I think a few drivers really felt like we shouldn't be on the road, even though it's the established American Cycling Association route.  Maybe the ACA should fund a bike path through this section!

A couple miles before the turn-off for camp, there was a long, steep downhill that resulted in an equally long and steep climb.  It was the only climbing so far for me on this trip and at 70+ miles for the day, I felt it!  When we turned off the highway towards Kathryn, it was a beautiful, rolling 4 miles to the town.  Population 54.  We camped outside the community center and met a really nice local man named Paul.  I took my first tent shower, which was an experience because it was hot in the sun and there was a strong breeze, so the tent was blowing around.  Regardless, it was a great shower, all things considered.  With no restaurants in town, we cooked.  Actually, Jeremy made his Funyon Onion soup, with beef jerky and cheese curds, so I had some of that.  Emma had too much of her instant mashed potato, Velveeta cheese, canned chicken mixture, so I also enjoyed that.  Easy night for me!

After dinner, I walked around the tiny town, reading the historical sign and checking out the buildings.  I am fascinated by this town and how people end up here, how they spend their time, and what their lives are like.  I had a really good conversation with a local named Paul about his life and some of what it's like to live here.  As I write this at 10:15pm, there is still some twilight (mindblowing!) and I'm listening to the babbling brook next to my tent, which is so peaceful.  However, I wonder how many ticks will be on my tent come morning.  I only have 2 more days of cycling, but I'll cover 172 miles, if I can hang! I feel like I'm finally getting into a groove and my shoulder pain was better today, so I know I'll be sad to leave on Sunday.  It'll be bittersweet, for sure, but I hope to keep in touch with this great group of people!

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