Hitting the DT (Dusty Trail)

As compared to my later biking ventures, these first three days feel like an ugly grunt, in which I limped my way to Chicago, not really knowing what I was doing, not really feeling at home on the road or on my bike.

(The following is paraphrased from my first journal entry, August 22, 2010)
*direct quotes from the journal will appear in quotation marks ""

Day 1: Decatur to Weldon Springs, IL

Curt pulled the car into a grocery store in Decatur, and I made the final preparations for the biking leg of the trip to Chicago. I got suited up in my padded ass shorts and Triple Bypass jersey (so graciously donated by Matt), gave my skin a generous coating of sunscreen, and double + triple checked that nothing would be left behind. With my panniers loaded, sleeping bag and tarp secured, handsome chili pepper bell from Nelly perched atop my handlebars, and most importantly: my (Kory's) helmet fastened tightly on to my noggin, I was ready to hit the DT.

The first couple of miles through Decatur were scary. There was not much of a shoulder on the road that took me out of town and there was lots of traffic. Not to mention the fact that I was not yet too comfortable on a fully loaded bike.

"Once I got a little bit out of town, I realized that I was actually doing it, and that there was no turning back now. My heart soared. I let out a very hearty, very typically 'Jeff' laugh. An elephant laugh, as some like to call it. HA!"

"I was completely enthralled by what some would call 'a whole lot of nothing' or 'noman's land' (NoPERSON's land...) With corn to the left of me, soy to the right of me, my bike beneath me and below that, the road, I was in my element. It was an element I never would have known to be my own, as I had never gone on a long distance bike ride before."

It was a short day because I had left the grocery store in the early afternoon, so I think I only went about 25 or 30 miles this day (I don't have a computer on my bike, nor did I have a quality map at this point, so I was never quite sure how far I actually went). I arrived at Weldon springs and set up camp. I made a shelter with the tarp and a backpacking hammock that my dad had lent me. I went for a nice swim out to the middle of the lake and swam past some kayakers who were having a debate about whether the drinking age should be lowered or not. After drying off with my car shammy, "The Absorber" and having a bit of dinner (vegetable sandwich on a bagel that Christine swiped for me from the motel's continental breakfast earlier that day), I went down to the lake and contemplated the immensity of the world, and how surrounded I felt. I was so far away from anything I knew, and yet I felt comforted by this, almost like I was wrapped in a big squishy blanket.