I blew the idea off and went downstairs where Richard had coffee waiting for me. He was heading out but told me of a couple good places to go in town.
What a cute little town it was with a little coffee shop where everyone knew each other facing the historic district where you could see a handful of people walking in and out--of varied ages. I sat down had a nice cup of coffee, wrote a few letters, and watched the town passed as I planned the route for the rest of the day.
At lunchtime I was able to play with the kids with no less energy, and no less questions. They made me feel present, and challenged me with good and interesting questions, however, I was anxious to move to the next town across, what people had warmed me, the mountains were bigger than the ones I had already crossed the previous day.
The day was cold, and I put on my thermal wear, a littler nervous about what to expect.
Pedal after pedal up the mountain I biked...it felt as if I was going absolutely nowhere as the winds kept pushing me over and the cold 40 degree air blew across me. I knew I looked crazy on the side of there road--sometimes riding my bike and other times pushing it, but was convinced I must get this last part of hills behind me because they weren't going anywhere.
Four hours later, and only seven miles down the road, or rather up the road, and glad I was still alive, and that civilization existed. I gave up on making progress stopped a the nearest town, got myself a nice dinner and threw up a little campsite in the woods, completely and utterly exhausted.
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