The long and lonely hill

We started our last week of this adventure this morning leaving Lewiston after breakfast provided by our hosts. It was a good rest day Sunday. First we attended churches of our choice, had a picnic lunch in the park along the Snake River, and later that day a number of us were invited to dinner at a private home. Our hosts for dinner were Chris and Angela; Chris is a deacon of the All Saints Catholic Church. This always makes a visit particularly memorable, for the generosity of such people is inspiring. We all had a great time.

We started our 60+ mile day and I had a noise in my rear wheel. I stopped to check, and thought perhaps my wheel cleaning the day before was too thorough, washing the grease out of my hub. I had just repacked them two weeks ago, and reviewing how I cleaned my bike yesterday thought that just couldn't be the issue. Another mile down the road I had a flat, so presumed the noise was instead caused by road debris hung in my tread. After fixing the flat I proceeded and had noise again. I opted to have Tom pick me up an take me to the 20 mile rest stop where the support van/trailer was, and there I repacked my bearings. They didn't look particularly good, but they are all I have, and are noisy. We aren't anywhere near a parts supplier, so this is what I'll ride for the next few days. I'm afraid the damage is done, though. No big deal; I have a lot of miles on this bike and it is just wearing out.

I proceeded from there across the arid east of Washington. Starting fresh down long rolling hills and flats made progress from there average over 20 mph to the next break. The later part of the day was uphill and hot. Uphill, gradual grades, for miles.

It is the hill that separates us. Yes, we all ride up together, but each is on his own. Progress is between 5 and 10 miles an hour, the difference measured in tenths that quickly decline as the ache increases. Muscles are used up, so we stand to use up the others, then fall back to the saddle exhausted, dropping to the lowest gears to spin. Speed decreases and your riding partners pull ahead or fall behind slowly. My mind is all I have at this point to make the hill with. I think; I've given my body water and food. I'm not struggling for air, my joints are not too painful so no damage is occurring- I have to ignore the pain and push forth, with new resolve that gains me sometimes a top speed of 10, maybe 11 for a burst, that fades quickly for the pain wins the argument between mind and body. I fall behind. I don't like the distance growing between the rider ahead, the distance shrinking between the rider behind. They can do this, at least at that moment, so I reason I can too. Another burst of resolve dissolves almost as soon as it is applied to the machine. It gets lonely, for each of us is in our own battle with ourselves climbing this hill.

Then I reach the top, or what I thought was the top, and beyond- another climb. Okay, well for a moment there is a relief as we are able to regroup and share misery. We encourage one another once the bile is out, and continue. Hit the hill as fast as I can, maintain standing as long as I can, and then slump to my saddle and lower gears for the long grind. Some days there is but one, others there are more. Not little hills, mind you, but seemingly endless hills as we approach our destination.

There is relief, though, for the towns are in the valleys that typically follow. We are welcomed and rewarded with a downhill that makes the climb and pain retire to memory, and the anticipation of rest and shower fills us. I napped today, so am up late finishing this post, but must rise at 4 am to do this again, and again fail to give proper treatment to tonight's hosts, Dayton United Church of Christ, who house and did a wonderful job feeding us.