Breaking Away to Bloomington

If I could have my way, I would do nothing all day but sit around commit to writing my memories of this most epic of trips. But, things being the way they are, I have been forced to get a job and acquire and furnish an apartment, and these, along with the relentless pursuit of my New Year's resolution, have been taking up the bulk of my time lately. But much like the climb into Mt. Pocono, I have no intention of giving up this endeavor.

The truth is, I still think about the trip a lot. I've been working for about two months now, and the work is satisfying, the pay significant, and the people nice. But there have been so many times that I have been sitting at my computer, reading documentation for some random component of our software product, and I will think to myself, "This is soooo boring." And slowly I find that I become lost in my thoughts until I find myself seeing Vegas with Dani or riding sweep with Butters or making PB&J out of the back of the trailer or reliving any one of a million other priceless memories that I have of that summer. But a reminder for a meeting pops up on my monitor and I am back in my office. A hint of sadness lingers as I start to get my things together. But there are worse tragedies in the world.

I digress. I was flipping through my little black journal, looking for the next epic to tell, when I decided, Bike & Build wasn't just about epic adventures. It was also the smaller happenings that took place every day that kept things interesting. And maybe such enterprises didn't seem too unusual within the context of Bike & Build, but having rejoined civilian life for almost a year now, I can say with absolute certainty that every day on the road was an adventure. And the day into Bloomington was typical of that, I feel.

I should begin by saying that most of the food that was provided to us by the places we stayed over the summer was pretty good, but the breakfast in Rushville was legendary. We wouldn't have eaten as well if we had gone to a restaurant. What must have been half the congregation turned out at 5 in the morning to make us breakfast: oatmeal, pancakes, quiche, bacon, sausage, fresh fruit, OJ. We ate like kings and queens. To the parishioners of St. Paul's United Methodist Church of Rushville, IN: you have our eternal gratitude.

Amol and I were sweep that day, so we rode easy. It was a pretty standard day of sweeping, I believe we encountered a flat or two during the day, but nothing any more serious than that. So sweep has the added responsibility of cleaning up and loading the trailer after lunch. This I didn't mind so much, but just as we were about to head out, one of the leaders (Kyle Magida, I believe) said, "Someone needs to finish this milk or we're gonna throw it out." There was easily a quart left.

There aren't a lot of things in this world that I hate, but I hate hate hate seeing food go to waste. I was a busboy at a Chinese restaurant for a little bit, and every time I took away someone's half-full plate and tossed it in the garbage my blood would boil. I will eat food well past its prime before I will let it go to waste. One of these days that's gonna get the best of me, but today I'm still standing.

So of course no one else wanted to drink all that milk, no one even wanted to help me, so even though I already eaten a full lunch, I drank about a quart of milk right before hopping back on the bike. It's a good thing I was sweep that day, because if I wasn't then whoever was probably would have caught me. Naturally I felt horrible as my body struggled to digest that Thankgiving dinner inside me and fuel my working muscles. I just kept telling myself to survive the next few hours. Little by little I felt better until Amol and I stopped at a McDonald's to lay some cable, and with that I was 100% again.

Amol and I were riding with Jane and Emma when Butters and Kester passed us. Apparently they had stopped at a charming little antique store and went antiquing for a few hours while Amol and I passed them. I cannot even begin to tell you how typical this was of Butters and Kester. (Butters says she called out to Amol and I as we rode by, but I'm not sure I believe that.)

So Amol and I are about 3 miles from the host. It's been a long day, but I figured, whatever, everyone's gotta sweep, it's no big deal. But I was definitely ready to get to the host. And what do Butters and Kester do, they stop at an ice cream place. I honestly did not understand everyone's obsession with ice cream. I can say from experience that riding with large amounts of dairy in one's belly is not fun. But Butters and Kester didn't care. They were gonna order some big-ass ice cream cones and take their sweet time eating them, and there was nothing I could do about it. I tried to hurry them along but Butters just laughed at me. Tenfold, Butterfield.

The next day being a build day, a few of us decided to go out to a bar. A good time was had, we pretty much had the place to ourselves. I guess the usual Wednesday night crowd isn't there at 8 o'clock. We sat out on the patio, drinking beers and shooting the breeze. Right then and there I was perfectly content, but I was also very... tired. I fell asleep sitting up at the table and was only awakened by the flash from Erin's camera. Tenfold, Rice.