Road Trip

I'm exhausted, but at least I smell nice. That wasn't the case an hour ago, when my sister and I dragged our unwilling, sore, aching legs up the three flights of stairs to our flat. My muscles are letting me know that they're done for the week, even though they aren't in much pain. By contrast, but butt is in pain.

Me, Kez, Kevin and Mark set out on a motley assortment of bicycles on Tuesday at noon with a bunch of maps, not enough clothing, and some food money. By the time our train pulled in at South Station today under the watchful eye of our friend Jim T., we had lost a man, spent all the money, and all the clothes were pungent like woodsmoke (except our riding gear, which was pungent with sweat and exhaust). In between leaving and coming home, there was an awful lot of pedaling, to the tune of 180 miles. I won't bore you with the details but it went basically: Providence-Bristol-Newport-Portsmouth, Portsmouth-Fall River-Middleboro-Wareham-Sagamore-Sandwich-Barnstable-Brewster, Brewster-Yarmouth-Hyannis- Sandwich-Sagamore-Plymouth. The last stretch to Plymouth we did at a dead sprint in order to catch the 2:25 train - 17 miles in one hour, with full baggage and very tired. We pulled into Plymouth Station just as the 2:25 left the platform.

On the upside, it's cheering to hear that during our absence the Red Sox not only won two games, but they didn't even allow a run.