Читать книгу I Tried Not To Cry - Michael Beattie - Страница 10

Chapter 4

It’s Now or Never

It’s March 26, 2016, and the weather looks like a three-day clearing of no snow along my planned route, so I decide to chance it and ride while still on medication. My gear is packed and repacked several times, as I try to not forget anything and to familiarize myself as to where everything is packed. From past experiences, I learned that the rain gear needs to be packed on the very top for fast access in a downpour. Keeping my butt and seat dry is critical to avoiding butt sores, not to mention trying to not get chilled in a cold rain. I carry a seat cover in my front access handlebar bag for quick access. I practice over and over in my mind how to quickly put on the gear, and in what order, in case of a sudden downpour. I’m nervous about starting, yet anxious to begin what I’ve spent so much time preparing for. Still unsure how I’ll handle being alone for such an extended period, I make my goodbyes to both family members and friends, never knowing if I’ll ever see them again. My coffee shop friends think that I’ve lost my mind! Many of them keep saying, “It won’t be long before we see you again,” laughing as if thinking I’d not get very far. Maybe they’re right. Time will tell. For me, it’s almost as though I’m leaving for my first duty assignment after boot camp all over again. Unknown, unsure, nervous!

It’s March 27, an early Sunday morning, still dark before sunrise, when I go to the shed to take out my fully loaded bike. She’s waiting for me anxiously to begin our trip. Did I forget anything? Over and over in my mind, I keep worrying, as I mount the seat and begin my ride in a thirty-degree morning start. I’m dressed warm enough and have a face protector over my mouth to help keep the cold air out of my still-infected lungs. I try not to look back at Sue when I ride away, as I know she’s a mess thinking she may never see me again. I feel so selfish leaving her here alone like this, and I know it will haunt me for some time to come. Sue lost her last man to cancer not long after being introduced to me by John. John is a good friend of mine that frequented my shop every day to share a coffee with me while I worked. This is how I came to meet Sue, and how we eventually started dating about a year after John passed away. It was a tough time for her, as well as me, to lose such a wonderful friend. Now Sue worries about me so much more than I do about myself.

As I leave, and prior to me leaving, I have the attitude that if anything happens to me, I’m grateful for having lived a good full life. A life filled with many years of a great marriage, and for a son that grew to be a good father to his three children. I worked hard my entire life, trying to provide for them, as well as for myself. Although I never made a great deal of money in my business, at least, I was my own boss with the opportunity to provide for my family. My dedication to my business and to my customers was always a first priority, and by so doing, I retained the majority of my same customers for forty-two years. Operating a twenty-four-hour, seven-day-a-week emergency type of service business can wear on one over time, but I tried my best right to the end to leave my business on the best note I could, despite my medical issues. So, I can begin my ride with a pretty clear conscience. All my legal paperwork is in order, including a living will, a will and living trust with last request paperwork. It sounds a bit morbid, but just in case anything happens to me, I want to have everything lined up for my son.

After I exit the mobile home park that Sue and I reside in, I basically head west-northwest toward New York State. My destination today is to reach a small town called Amenia, which is just over the New York / Connecticut border. This means riding through the rest of Connecticut, including climbing through the Berkshire Mountains. It’s a cold thirty-degree start as I have my lightweight gloves on along with head and ear protection to help keep me warm. It isn’t long before I take off the gloves as I warm up from the riding and hill climbing. Not long into my ride, I realize my downtime from being on medication, and not being able to train, has taken its toll on me. Having ridden this same route on my training ride to Pennsylvania, I’m aware of almost every large climb that lies ahead of me. I force myself to get off the bike and walk several times up the steeper hills, rather than chance destroying my lungs or legs.

I held my grandmother’s hand as we climbed the steep hill up to the corner bus stop, which was housed in a stone waiting area complete with a roof, enabling one to stay out of the elements. Being deaf and unable to talk, Grandma Caroline never attempted to obtain a driver’s license. The Blue Line bus service came through Eagleville on a regular basis, so there really wasn’t a need for a car. Having a car was a luxury then, and only a few in this village had one. The once-a-week grocery shopping excursion into the nearby city of Willimantic could be done by bus. Other than the small Champlions general store in the village for needed items, the city was the only option for a larger variety of items. It was a wonderful time going to town with my grandmother. The world seemed like such a friendly place to me, with everyone greeting everyone else. You always wore your better clothes into town because you needed to try and make a statement about yourself. It was a bit of a faster-paced lifestyle in the city, compared to that of the village. Sometimes a shop owner who was familiar with my grandmother would hand me a treat, penny candy possibly. Being nice to others in that time meant loyal customers, as we would shop for meats in one store and vegetables in another. Each shop owner would almost know exactly what Gram would need. Gram always carried a small notepad and pencil to write on in case others couldn’t understand what she was trying to say. She seemed to know exactly which small shops to buy from, as they all seemed to greet her as she walked in. “Hi, Caroline, how is Bill?” they would ask as she smiled a big smile. Gram would write down exactly what she wanted at each shop and hand the note to the clerk. They all knew her and treated her with a great show of appreciation for her business. The butcher cut and wrapped the meats in paper neatly, writing the contents on the paper wrapper, before thanking her. They all seemed to know money was very tight for my grandparents, as with many during the fifties in these mill towns, and they were happy for the business. The larger grocery store called the A&P had moved into town, and was slowly putting an end to the individual produce and butcher stores with their lower prices. “He’s getting big,” the butcher said of me, as he greeted my grandmother, she smiling back. “Have a good day, Caroline,” he said as we departed down the front step. “Come back again.” We pushed the load of food in a small cart which folded up for travel back home to the village. Country folks going to the city!

I shed layers and put layers back on as I struggle up and down the hills of this northwestern part of Connecticut. Traffic is light on the mostly backcountry roads after passing through the town of Granby, as I head along the Farmington River section of Pleasant Valley past the Barkhamsted Reservoir. Riverton and Colebrook are some of the quaint small New England towns which pass me by, with their beautiful stone walls and manicured farm estates. I stop several times at the friendly small general stores, enabling me to pick up snacks and fluids. The uphill climbs get harder as I enter areas of Norfolk and Canaan, then into Salisbury along Route 44. This is an area that I’m very familiar with, as I’ve made my way here to hike Bear Mountain (the highest peak in Connecticut) many times, including winter hikes. This is a most beautiful area of the state to visit, but a very expensive area to live in, at least from what I’ve heard from others. Resembling a picture-perfect postcard of New England, Salisbury is home to many dignitaries as well as movie celebrities such as Meryl Streep and the former Margaret Hamilton, to name only a couple. I pass by the Scoville Library, which was the first free public library in the United States. Its beautiful stone construction is a tribute to the craftsmanship of old. The oldest Methodist church in New England is also on my route, being established in 1789. The Lakeville Methodist Church still stands proud on the main street that I ride along. The temperature has climbed into the fifties as I continue to shed and add layers as I climb then descend back down. The trees look lonely as they’ve shed their leaves for the winter, making way for new buds that will soon appear. My hopes are that the March winds will slowly give way to April, but not so today, as I have a constant westerly headwind. I’m somewhat sheltered by the trees on the back roads, not being too exposed to the wind until I reached Canaan where I’m put on Route 44, which runs along much open farm areas, hence more wind blowing down off the surrounding mountains. After I pass through the most beautiful main areas of Salisbury, I drop down into Lakeville. This is yet another magical picture-perfect town, which looks as though it was meant for a Norman Rockwell painting. Quaint would be a word to describe this area, where many of its citizens commute by train to New York City for work. I feel as though I’ve traveled into a different part of the world, from a trailer in the over fifty-five park which I just left this morning, to this wealthy area of beautiful homes and shops, all in one day on a bike. I pass by the Lime Rock auto racetrack where Paul Newman had once raced, before I cross into New York State by way of a small town called Millerton.

I’m truly exhausted at this point as I search for the Harlem Valley Rail trail which my map indicates will take me to the small New York town of Amenia, where I have scheduled a motel prior to my start yesterday. The rail trail is a welcome sight as it takes me off the busy Route 44 onto a fairly level grade for the last nine miles of today’s ride. Darkness is nearly upon me, as it’s taken me the entire twelve hours of daylight to finally reach the small motel called the Willows, just a short distance off the rail trail. I’m exhausted as I reach the tiny roadside motel, but satisfied that I made it, and my lungs feel no worse for wear. My legs are very weary, having never ridden this far (ninety-two miles) with so much weight. I wobble as I dismount the bike to walk up to the office door of the 1940s-looking one-level roadside motel. A note on the door directs me to a phone number to call upon arrival, which I do. I’m not quite sure what to expect at this point, but this is the only lodging near my route. The person who answers the call instructs me to my assigned room, number two, and states the door is open. I’m told to leave the key locked inside the room when I leave. There’s no one else in this place as it’s vacant of any cars. I enter the room, taking my bike and gear inside, to find the interior to be like something out of the 1950s, small and dated, but clean and priced reasonably. All I want at this point is a clean bed and a hot shower, and I have both. My daily budget which I’ll try to stay at is one hundred dollars for both food and lodging, although I know it may be hard to meet in some areas of the country. Day one, I have fared well. I send Sue a message that I’ve arrived at the motel and will contact her after I get cleaned up. She has a complete set of my itinerary and map systems so she can monitor my route. She also has emergency contact information for each area to call if need be. I set this all up prior to my departure so she will have control of my whereabouts. Oh my God, the hot shower feels wonderful on my sore body as I close my eyes and hang my head down. How will I ever make it feeling this drained on day one of a six-month journey? I wonder. I know how fortunate I am to have the ability to attempt this mission, but now nearly sixty-seven years old, my broken body is fighting me every mile.

After a change of clothes, I walk into the little town where a Greek-style restaurant named the Amenia Steak House is located. I consume a large chicken and pasta meal along with a couple of beers and a small loaf of garlic bread. Although I ate often during my ride today, I can’t believe how hungry I still am. My butt is a bit sore from the day’s ride, and I hope that all the sweating I do under my clothes won’t develop into sores. As I’m eating my meal, I study my maps, trying to line up a riding distance and motel for tomorrow. The motel choices are few along my planned route which will require me doing another long ninety-mile ride. My second day target location is Port Jervis, New York. I’m experiencing some knee discomfort today, and hope I can make it that distance. I’ve done it before, but not carrying this much weight, plus the fact that I’m still on medication for my lungs. There’s no ice back at my room, so I just keep applying Icy Hot ointment on the knees and hope for the best. My hands and elbows are also sore on this first day, as I consume ibuprofen for the discomfort. I carry a good supply of it, just in case. Maybe I haven’t let them heal enough prior to this ride, but I’m not overly concerned. When back at my motel room, I’m able to book a motel room in Port Jervis, New York, at a cost above my budget, but I take it. My nervousness seemed to disappear quickly after I left this morning, being replaced with the reality of my mission and its length. This is only day one of a long journey, and my mind is fighting thoughts of crazy expectations all day long. My plan for tomorrow will be the same as today, rise early, eat well, and ride at a steady pace in order to make my destination. I know this isn’t a race, but rather, a long, continual marathon type of ride.

My fear of not being able to sleep on a different bed each night was erased away last night as I sleep like an exhausted baby. Relying on my research for a good diet, I try to consume the type of foods that will fuel me for the ride. I make oatmeal in my room prior to leaving, knowing there’s a convenience store only a few blocks down the road from the motel. In the dark, I ride to the store where I have a coffee and a hand breakfast sandwich before I head out to the road. I replenish my fluids and snacks before I ride off, just as the sun’s starting to rise to lighten my way. My rear strobe lights seem to be working well as I can hear cars slow down as they approach me from behind. This seems to be working well so far, but I have such a long way to go. I know I have to stop thinking of the overall picture and try to only think of what I have in store each day, or I won’t make it. My butt is sore when I first mount the seat today, but I take a couple of ibuprofens with my supplements. My hands and elbows are sore, as well as my legs. Am I crazy? Stay focused!

It is another thirty-degree start as the cold air slapping my face wakes me up and removes any cobwebs that are still in my head. This is real, and I’m not going to quit or turn back. Damn, it’s cold! Being a stubborn competitive person, the only way home is for me to finish what I started. It’s a cold uphill climb out of the small town of Amenia, as I sorely make my way up and through the Taconic Crest area of mountains, taking me past some of the most beautiful areas of farmlands in this mid area of New York State. The temperature slowly rises, allowing me to remove my gloves and headgear, as I search for a place to maybe stop for a hot coffee. There’s nothing available to stop at for a break, so I continue on until I reach an area just on the outskirts of Poughkeepsie.

It’s midmorning when I arrive in Poughkeepsie and find a small convenience store that makes fresh breakfast sandwiches to order. So, along with a second coffee, I consume a second breakfast sandwich as I converse with some local men who seem like regulars to this establishment. We all sit at high table chairs by the window area so I can keep an eye on my bike and gear. The questions are fired at me from all sides, as we talk of hungry veterans and their fight for survival on the streets. “Where did you start from?” “How far are you going?” “How old are you?” “Are you a veteran?” Then the “Thank you for your efforts” came at me, along with the handshakes, as most of these fellows are veterans themselves and aren’t afraid to share their stories with me. They ask me of my gear, and how I came about doing this journey, as many of them try their luck at the lottery tickets. Suddenly my pains are slowly being erased as I feel good once again about my mission. I needed a good uplift, and these fellows assured me that my mission is needed. I hand them each a begging card as I say my goodbyes and exit out the door and down the road. They all give me their blessings and thank me again as I slowly mount my bike.

I’m anxious to cross over the Hudson River on a pedestrian bridge called the Walkway over the Hudson. This 1.28-mile-long, 212-foot-high elevated pedestrian bridge which spans over the Hudson River is the second longest in the United States. Completed in 2009 by using an old existing run-down railroad bridge, it was rebuilt and paved to connect Poughkeepsie and Lloyd, which is a hamlet of Highland. In addition to spectacular views of the river, there are snack areas as well as a restaurant along its span. This morning, there’s nothing open, as it’s a windy cold ride across its span. After the crossing, I’m put on a very nice rail trail for a good distance before I’m dumped back onto the road again. The map and its directions are quite confusing at this point, forcing me to stop often to get my bearings. My day from here consists of mostly flat riding past farms, many of which lie alongside the Wallkill River. Once arriving in the city of Wallkill, the road signs are extremely confusing as I ride an extra three miles out of my way before realizing I’m lost. I’m able to Google Maps my way back to the mapped route, but I’m not happy with having to do the extra miles, half of which are uphill. A series of secondary roads finally puts me into a much busier Port Jervis. My motel sits high on a hilltop overlooking the busy Interstate 84. I have to walk up the steep grade to the motel as I’m just too exhausted to ride another foot.

After checking into my room with my bike and gear, I struggle to strip off my clothes and head for the shower. I stand in the hot shower with my head down. Dear God, give me the strength to continue, as the hot water feels so good against my aching body. My knees are killing me, and my legs feel like mush. It seems hard to believe all the training I did prior to my departure isn’t helping me much. I can’t believe I feel this bad after just two days of riding, and I must put the blame on all the extra weight of the gear I’m pulling, along with the fact I’m still fighting a sickness. I had to eat ibuprofen during the day to help keep my mind off the soreness of my hands, elbows, knees, and my sore butt. Only two days out of six months, and already, I feel this worn out. The only positive thing is my lungs seem to be doing well as I continue to take my medications. This was my biggest concern prior to leaving, and I think the cool clean air is doing them good.

I hobble down to the ice machine in order to get ice for my knees. While icing my knees I order a pizza to be delivered to my room, as there’s no way I’m going anywhere to get food. If I had been thinking straight, I could have picked up something on my way to the motel, but I wasn’t. All I could think of was getting to a hot shower. Pizza is what it’ll be as I can’t move, and I don’t care about the cost or nutritional effects right now. I just want food. I’m hungry, sore, and tired, and still have to research how far I think I can travel tomorrow for lodging. As I ice my knees, I use my notebook and search for lodging. The closest thing I can find is approximately seventy miles away, so I call and book a room at a chain motel in Easton, Pennsylvania. That will be a bit shorter than today’s ride, and if I remember from my previous training ride, it’s a mostly flat ride. The food arrives, and I have no problem consuming a large pizza by myself. Prior to this, I consumed a bag of peanuts for the needed protein, which must be consumed as soon as possible after riding, in order to avoid muscle issues. Man, this is going to be a tough journey, without a shadow of a doubt! I’m developing small pimples on my butt now, which I’m afraid will turn into sores, so I apply ointment to that area. My not riding prior to my departure due to lung problems seems to have put me behind physically, but despite everything that hurts, I’m still excited to hit the road tomorrow again. Each day is a different journey with different scenery to observe as well as a variety of people to speak with each time I make a stop. I feel blessed to be able to attempt this ride. My bed waits for me.