Cheese and Cracker

I woke up on a cold basement floor after my second fitful night’s sleep. Facing 97 miles didn't appeal to me. I got up, stowed my gear and loaded it. There wasn't any coffee left when I showed up for breakfast. We were met with misty rain as we went outside. The temperature was 67 degrees, with prediction it would go up to…67 degrees. My gear was packed so I didn't have adequate clothing. At least the headwind was predicted at 2-10 miles an hour in our face instead of a repeat of yesterday’s 17-25+. I seriously was thinking of opting out at this point but decided to at least d the first 20. Wisconsin, known for its cheese, was being cold to this Florida Cracker.

I did have the leggings and arm warmers Kert had provided for everyone. Thank you Kert, for I couldn't find mine to pack before leaving home. I took my safety vest and stuffed it up inside my shirt to insulate me from the wind. I hit the road hard, trying to get my body core temperature up and they were pretty good miles, too. I usually start from the rear, just before the sweeps. That is because I am fiddling around mounting my camera and getting it going. Okay, I’m just chronically late. I made up for it during that run, feeling a burst of energy provided by the pecan cinnamon cake I ate for breakfast. Before that energy ran out I was within a half mile of the leading group but faded quickly. I stopped and let them ride on, telling myself I really need to take more pictures anyway. I was able to get one shot with my camera I had forgotten to change the battery in, and then made friends with the dog who was supposed to be protecting the place.

We were on our way to Iowa, but had to cross the Mississippi first. In Prairie du Chien we had a detour, and riding alone I didn't have others to rely on to continue the route, and I was afraid I had missed the chalk mark the lead riders placed. We are given “cue sheets” every morning with detailed mileage and road instructions, and I went to refer to mine when I couldn't find it. I stopped, took off my backpack, dropping it to the ground, along with all the contents of all my other pockets in an exasperated search. A young woman stopped to watch and just standing there. Then she asked “are you riding for the Special Olympics?” in a concerned voice, apparently familiar of the event. “No, not today, but sometimes I volunteer with them when they are in my town” I replied patiently. “I’m riding for another group today. Have you ever participated in the Special Olympics?” I asked, making small talk. “Oh yeah, it’s lots of fun” she replied. I needed help, and she was all there was available, so I asked “I’m trying to get to the Mississippi, because I’m going to Iowa. Do you know which way that is?” She rubbed her chin looking right and left and started pointing from where I came, saying “Maybe it’s this way?” “Oh, I just came from there so I don’t think so” I answered. “then it’s that way for sure” she said, and then just turned away, saying, “Have fun, and be careful!”  I took her advice and quickly found a chalk mark for my turn. God can put us all to service. This special young lady was instrumental in my successful arrival to write about the experience.

I don’t know what miles were here and there for I hadn't properly set my cycle computer at the start, but I’d estimate we’re about 60 miles from the river here in Cresco. Furthermore I lost my Strava data, so that is a link of Greg’s. We’re guests of Emmanuel Lutheran Church who opened their doors and filled our plates. The best part for me is to just talk to the locals, and this is a town of 4000 midst the rolling hills of corn and dairy farms. We don’t have internet available, and quite frankly I am a bit relieved for I have an excuse to just finish here and go to bed without posting my blog or making a video. I am whipped. Eighty five miles tomorrow.