Day 34 - Saturday, June 13

Start - Marshfield, MO

End - Ash Grove, MO

Miles (on the route) - 48.0

Miles (total) - 52.65

Avg Spd - 11.9mph

Max Spd - 39.0mph

Total ride time - 4:26

The day started with a sore ass. Painful! It's been slowly getting worse and this morning I couldn't even sit on the seat correctly. I had to sit pretty far front, and that's not going to work very long. I spare everybody and not go into this too much, but it's a bad thing. Saddle sores are no good. And I'm especially worried after the recent story of the fellow transamer's infected saddle sore. No Bueno!

I grabbed some breakfast and set out with the hopes of big mileage and getting into Kansas. The people in Missouri have been nice, but I've been struggling here and I'm anxious to make it to the next state and get to the flat territory of Kansas. I can't really put a finger on exactly what it is that I'm not enjoying about Missouri, but I've been in a funk here. And maybe it's not Missouri's fault at all. Maybe it's just that spot in the trip where I hit a mental wall, had to happen sooner or later. Maybe it's just the weather. The traffic has not been kind to me here, and I haven't enjoyed the terrain. At least not the Ozarks. I don't mean to be offensive, but I just don't think Missouri is the place for me. Could just be bad timing and context though.

While leaving Marshfield, I heard the unmistakable "PONG!" I haven't heard it before but I was immediately confident in what it was: broken spoke on the back wheel. I was crossing over interstate 44 when it happened so I pulled into a park and ride lot and looked into what I could do. I don't have a chain whip to remove the gear set, but it was on the other side and I thought maybe I could find a way to get the spoke into place. I spent time trying to do some creative thinking and improvising with the tools I had, but it wasn't going to happen. The immediate reaction is the feeling of doom and discouragement, but I've been in these situations a few times and I've come to appreciate the process of the mechanical hiccup; the bump in the road. These things happen. There is always a solution, and it will be found. Sometimes it takes time. Sometimes it takes money. But every moment is a passing moment. And I simply remind myself of that when the moment is not so great. It's never long until you are looking back and appreciating something about that experience.

After about an hour of playing with tools and getting nowhere, I resigned to finding a way to a bike shop. I was able to txt google and find a bike shop about 30 miles south on 44 in Springfield. Now to find a way there. As soon as I started to roll the bike out of the lot a car pulled in with a few bikes on the back. The gentleman asked me if I needed some help and I explained my situation. Despite having an appointment to get to, he offered to give me a lift to Springfield. Again, saved by the kindness of others. And it happens so quickly. Every time I'm impressed by this immediate, seemingly unquestioned, helpful attitude. Roger was a fellow cyclist, retired Army Ranger, and used to be part of the Army's triathlon team. That's 8 miles swimming, followed by 100 miles biking, and then finishing with a marathon. No joke! He now takes it easy by doing centuries through the Ozarks. Ha! Real nice guy, I enjoyed talking with him on the way down to Springfield. He knew the shop and definitely recommended it. Thanks Roger for the help and the conversation.

It wasn't long at all until the shop replaced the spoke and helped me improvise a way out of Springfield and back to the transam route without jumping ahead and skipping miles. I ended up taking highway 65 with its wide shoulder to Fair Grove, and witnessed a police escorted convoy of at least 150 Harleys blowing by me.

I made my way towards Ash Grove and found myself in a groove. I was feeling confident and content with the bike being fixed, and rode on listening to my ipod and thinking about things falling back into place. The sun was setting and that golden sheen fell across the fields as I rode past the continuous farmland. One of those rare moments set in, set to music, where all the difficulties seem to fade away and you find a strange pronounced appreciation for where you are, and the moment that you are in. I've had a few of these before on long solo road trips, but you can't ever produce them, seek them, or replicate them. Sometimes they just happen. It felt like a beautiful recovery.About a mile before arriving in Ash Grove, I hit a hard crack at the bottom of a hill and lost some pressure to the tire. I figured it to be a pinch flat, but it never flattened out. There was a sudden loss of pressure but I was able to comfortably roll into town and get aquainted. I picked up some food at a local convenince store, the only thing open at 8 on a Saturday night, and made my way to the city park. Despite the flat, I was still feeling good as I set up my tent under the pavilion. I filled the tire to check it in the morning and see if it needed to be changed.

I awoke at about 4am to the sound of thunder and strong winds pushing on the tent. The craziest lightning I've ever witnessed moved in and I laid there under the pavilion, watching the flashes of light fill my closed tent like constant strobes. It went on for almost an hour and I repeatedly waited for the pavilion to burst into flames as the lightning strikes were certainly coming down over me. They were accompanied with that immediate chest quaking thunder that just pounds your nerves. I remember once experiencing a lightning strike like this in Chicago. I was pumping gas when a blinding light flashed and thunder hit that sent me diving to the ground along with the cabbie next to me. We both got up and stared at each other with jaws dropped like we needed to go change our pants. I remember shaking for an hour after that. It was intense and had me pretty scared again this time. Never experienced anything like that before.