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354 pages, Paperback
Published August 11, 2020
As for the day, Vernal, Utah was my goal, just seventy-one more miles. None of it really mattered. I didn’t care. I wanted to throw my rear wheel as far into the desert as possible, followed by the whole damn bike. Then I would just lay there on the side of the road waiting for somebody — no idea who — to pick me up and drive me directly to Truckee.
One could prepare for many things. One could prepare for climbing hills by doing hill repeats or for wind by riding in it. One could even build up a resistance to rain and snow. I, of course, spent no time training or preparing for any of these things. However, what I was completely unprepared for was the overwhelming sense of loneliness.
I was exposed, helpless, naked, an innocent lamb in search of my shepherd. The dogs — maybe five, maybe ten, it was hard to tell in a quick, terrified glance over my shoulder — were fast and agile. Hellhounds, their hot breath straight from the fiery pits. Your hero was slow, weighed down, unprepared. The beasts could smell my fear, no doubt. My only hope for survival was the adrenaline now surging through my body — nature’s nitrous oxide. I sprinted. I reached twenty-eight miles per hour, heart racing, lungs wheezing, drool hanging from my lower lip, snot pouring from my nostrils, legs burning from lactic acid. In just twenty seconds — though it felt much longer — it was over. The dogs suspended their chase and stood in the street barking, the littlest one out front.
The road freed me from the daily chaos and doldrums of life. It freed me from everything. I had spent the last few weeks recreating who I was, without knowing it was happening. I realized now I could be anywhere and anyone or nowhere and no one.