3. redemption (or i rode my bike across a seven miles bridge surrounded by blues)

continuation

He woke up when it was still dark. Had some breakfast and got ready for the ride. He ate everyday the same. Chocolate milk, cereals, fruit, and peanuts for breakfast. Four Clif bars during the ride. Potato salad, fruit, and yogurt for dinner. That kept him always physically able to ride. There was always a store close enough. He finally had the chance to check if Gatorade is better than water. They claim it is. Some studies say it is not. He felt better after a gulp of Gatorade than after a gulp of water. It must be the taste. It must be the color. He felt yellow.

He left the Highlands county behind. Welcome to the Glades county. The scattered wealthy communities of mostly retired people turned into spread redneck communities. Long empty roads. Only then he felt lonely, wondering what he would do in case something happened to him. He felt in the middle of nowhere.

There are many kinds of pavements. There are pavements that fly. There are pavements that shine, and pavements that burn. There are pavements that bite, pavements that scratch, that caress, and that hurt.

Shoulders are full of litter, drive safely memorials, and dead animals. A mountain bike would have had fun in the Glades county.

He had a flat tire. He had a flat tire. He had a flat tire. Three in ten miles. His back tire was as thin as smoking paper. His right forearm was hurting. It is not trivial to achieve 100 psi with a mini pump. It is less trivial to achieve them three times within ten miles.

He arrived in Clewiston later than he would have desired, and decided to stay in a campground. Asked three different questions getting always the same answer: Super Walmart. Unfortunately, they did not have the tire he needed, the tube he needed, the food he needed. There are cities built around a river, a harbor, a lake. There are also cities built around a Super Walmart.

Without a new back tire he would not be able to ride. He had two options, and one of them became really tempting, quitting.

"Why am I doing this?" Still toying with the same question. "Why do I need to worry?"

The other option was going west to West Palm Beach instead of going South as he had planned. There are no bikes stores in the middle of nowhere. A one day delay.

As the sun went down he felt sad. He remembered why he was there. He cried and wondered why he was not able to feel the joy he felt on his bike while working. Why at work he was always feeling as if he was standing still, constantly pumping air, one tube after the other. It was not his forearm, but his heart which was damaged. Wounded motivation.

He fell sleep despite of the smell. Fields of manure. His legs were feeling good. It was his right forearm which was bothering him. He could not write. He wished he could fly, he wished Glósoli by Sigur Rós was able to teach him.

to be continued