For the last ten miles this afternoon I turned on my iPod. I have it set to play all the stuff that's on it in alphabetical order. This can give a great lift especially some of the music from the Three Tenors album. I believe that Pavarotti's trade mark aria was something called Nessum Dorma. It ends with what I think are the words, we will win, repeated several times, each time more dramatically. It was on as I was racing to the end of my ride, I was feeling like Juan Antonio Flecha, having been out in front of the peleton for 120 kilometers, with the finish line in sight and the group closing fast. But I have Pavarotti in my head with Placido Domingo and Jose Contreras coming in on the harmony, singing in a way I cannot convey, "We will win, we will win, we will win". And the timmpany player is going crazy in the final crescendo, and I will not be denied. I was flying. This was a good day of riding.
For any readers who don't get the above description fully, it is based on a common place ending of the Tour de France, which almost always ends with the pack overtaking the solo rider just before the finish line.
I now think the fuzzy animals of unknown species yesterday were ground hogs.
There is a paragraph to be written sometime about Christians I have met and it may as well be now. So far there have been three notable encounters. The first was back in Montana. I was biking along and for a moment had my head down looking at the odometer or something. When I looked up there was a car going my way, except that it was parked on the shoulder. It had a bike on a rack on the back. Egocentric fellow that I am, I immediately assumed the driver had seen me biking along and stopped to chat me up. When I got to the car the woman in the driver's seat rolled down the window, but in stead of asking all about me, she began to describe her traveling companion, a woman amputee who was walking the perimeter of the US as an act of faith. She felt called to do this by God. At each mile marker she was leaving a smallish wooden cross. The car and driver were there to support her. She started in Florida several years ago and now hopes to continue to the west coast and on around without further winter stops. Presently the witness came plugging up the road. When she reached the car she plopped herself into the passenger seat and hurriedly removed her prosthesis and began massaging her stump. It was clear that her act of faith was not an easy task. I declined the proffered literature.
As I calculate my own miles remaining and weigh them against my wish to be home my appreciation of her dedication rises.
In Delaware a man passed me in his car and then pulled off the road. As I approached he got out and came to me. He said he had seen me, old geezer that I am I guess, and he just wanted to tell me how much he respected what I was doing. As he continued to talk, it became clear that he thought I must be doing something akin to the lady described above, or if not for God then for some other worthy cause. He offered me some money to support it, whatever it was. He was from Arizona.
Yesterday as I was coming along that tow path trail, I arrived at a spot where I had been planning to eat my lunch only to find the picnic table occupied by three unusual looking youngish people. I shouted something about sharing the table and one replied by asking would I want to go swimming before or after lunch. This was a clear invitation. I demurred and sat down and opened my food bag. Though they had a hippie kind of look, upon getting close to them they were clearly well groomed and clean. Over lunch they explained that they are devoting their lives to Christian evangelism, but that they were very inclusive in theology, strictly refraining from judging any kind of Christian view point. Their particular take was that one should live simply, patterned, I think on the apostles of biblical times. So they travel about, unhurriedly, on bicycles, proselytizing as the occasion allows, and moving when the spirit directs. One of the bikes was a pretty new looking Cannondale with a trailer. All the bikes were heavily loaded so that for a bike trip it didn't look terribly simple, still if that is all of their possessions, though it was a lot for a cyclist, it would not be much for a home owner. The group has no name and no website. There are apparently other individuals like these forming an amorphous body. There was no effort to recruit me.
This is my first time to stay in a B&B. I quit a bit early today and had time to clean up my bike and oil the chain after the slop of the C&O tow path.
Tomorrow I will pass and try to visit Falling Waters, but apparently reservations are needed so I may not get in.
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1 comment:
Hi Paul,
July 16 is your day 61 so this entry is a palindrome of sorts! Your entries keep me motivated on my much shorter rides. Hope that you head north sometime soon.
Cheers,
Shoes On
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