Saturday, June 20, 2009

4-5: Home Sweet Home

Initially I thought we'd be hitting Frederick too early in the trip; why would we need a break after only three days? Turns out there are lots of reasons we needed a break. We used the time to make changes to our packing scheme, including replacing the backpack with a duffel bag and buying a Trek Interchange Trunk that snaps on behind Kyle's seat. It cost $100, which seems rather steep for a small piece of storage equipment, but the compartments are perfect for the camera, Garmin, and other items we need to be able to access quickly, and the sides fold out to become very useful paniers.

Our bodies also needed time off. Ever since I started riding the recumbent part of the tandem I've had what are known as hot spots. Essentially the pad of my foot heats up and tingles painfully, and if I keep riding eventually it feels like stabbing needles and the pain spreads into my middle toes and occasionally up my shin. Really not pleasant. Usually the problem solves itself as soon as I take my feet off the pedals, but after a really long ride I might have some residual numbness. According to the experts -- meaning the random forums that I googled -- a certain percentage of recumbent riders get hot spots, probably from pinched nerves, and most of them just learn to deal; there are suggestions for decreasing the pain but no universal or complete solutions. I suspect that changing to a larger pedal could help somewhat, but that would be so expensive and inconvenient (because Kyle and I could no longer switch positions) that I'm trying all other strategies first. I got the open-toed Shimano sandals to try to help the problem, and they did succeed in delaying the onset of hot spots by an hour or so each ride. Unfortunately they caused another problem: incredible achilles pain. Apparently the back strap is too tight or otherwise poorly fit to my foot because by the end of our second day every pedal downstroke was intensely painful and now there are bumps on my achilles that seem more than blisters. The guy at the bike shop thought it was a foot position problem and suggested I move closer to the pedals, but I was pretty sure the problem was the sandals. Some experimenting around Frederick proved me right so I decided to go back to my old shoes, the lesser evil. Hot spots at least come and go while the achilles pain hits me every pedal stroke and continues to hurt whenever I walk down stairs or do a dozen other things off of the bicycle. I'm becoming increasingly worried about my feet and whether they'll hold up for the whole trip, or even for the next few days. I expected blisters, ankle tightness, or arch pain -- familiar adversaries -- not strange pinching and possible nerve damage.

My achilles pain was one reason that we decided to take two days off instead of one; this plan also allowed us to spend more time with friends. On our first night off we grilled dinner with Emily, Lee, and Dave, and thoroughly enjoyed the summer evening. Kyle was crowned the racer scooter champion (though Dave did beat him by abandoning his wheels and sprinting) and then we broke out the Rock Band.

It was a wonderful night, and also a glimpse at the summer we could have had, the summer we could still have if we quit right now. I can't say it wasn't tempting. We've had a rough start. Visiting so many friends and family members was fantastic, but what with the rain and the pain and the long, late days our time on the bike has very rarely been enjoyable. After watching me limp around the apartment getting disproportionately stressed out about packing today Kyle sat me down and asked if I really wanted to continue the trip. Was it worth the pain and all of the expected and unexpected challenges? Could we handle many more sunrise to sunset hauls? Would we be happier staying in Frederick and forgetting this whole crazy venture? I understood why he was asking those questions, and why he thought my feet and I might be close to quitting, but I just couldn't see myself giving up on the adventure, especially not this early. And I actually thought that much of my stress was because I was off of the bike, not because I was dreading getting back on it. When we're riding the purpose of each day is clear: to make it through the hard hours and reach our planned destination. It makes for a brief to-do list; I don't need to worry about what I'm going to wear or what I'm going to cook for dinner or how my schedule is going to fall into place. I like the straight-forwardness of it all, and knowing that each day we ride is a significant accomplishment in and of itself. During these days off we've done a lot of running around like crazy people, and I've also had a lot of time to think. I suppose that could be a good thing, but it's really thrown me off. I'm not sure about many aspects of the trip anymore, but at the same time I'm sure I don't want to stop. Regardless of how difficult it's been, I feel deeply committed to the trip now. In part it's because we discussed and publicized it so much (too much?) but I also just hate quitting once I've immersed myself. I don't feel like I've taken on enough legitimate challenges in my life, and I'm not going to give up on this one without a fight. I have a lot of pondering and discussing to do over the next few days, but the best I can do right now is take one day at a time, and tomorrow we ride again.

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