They say each day begins with good intentions and a rough roadmap of how things should go. Today, however, the universe had other plans.

The 5:00 AM False Start

We set our alarms for “O’Dark:30″—better known as 5:00 AM—with visions of a steaming Waffle House breakfast dancing in our heads. We marched over in the dark, ready to feast, only to find a locked door. Apparently, the legend of the “24-hour Waffle House” isn’t universal; this one didn’t wake up until 6:00 AM. After a brief, sleepy debate about trekking to Mickey D’s, we retreated to the hotel lobby to caffeinate and wait it out.

Once the doors finally opened, we devoured our breakfast, fueled up on more coffee, and prepped the gear. We were ready to roll—or so we thought.

Mechanical Mayhem

Just as Jeff and I were clicking in, Dr. Frank hit tire trouble. Jeff, being the master mechanic he is, stayed back to help while Karl and I rolled out slowly to warm up the legs. It was a peaceful, quiet morning—until the “zoom.” About eight miles in, Frank and Jeff came flying up behind us, and the pace intensified.

Then, the “snap.”

I went to shift my rear derailleur, and… nothing. A broken shifter cable. Just like that, my bike was paralyzed. Jeff tried a “MacGyver” fix to lock me into an easy gear, but it wouldn’t hold. We tied the cable out of the way, and I faced a daunting reality: I was stuck in my highest, hardest gear.

For the next eight miles, it was pure “grind.” I had to put every ounce of strength into the pedals just to move. My knees were screaming, but I had a water stop to reach.

The Loaner and the “Torture Device”

At the van, Dennis saved the day with a loaner bike. We swapped my pedals over, adjusted the seat, and I took off. While it was light and nimble, there was one glaring issue: the saddle. Within a half-mile, I was in agony. After a mile, I knew I couldn’t survive the day on it.

Jeff had a brilliant, if time-consuming, plan: reach the next stop 17 miles away and swap my trusty Brooks touring saddle onto the loaner. With the group miles ahead of us, Jeff started hammering, and I tucked in behind him, driven by the singular goal of getting off that “torture device” of a seat.

The Chase is On

The saddle swap took longer than we hoped. By the time we were ready, the rest of the crew was already approaching the lunch stop. Jeff, Frank, and I knew we had to ride like lightning to catch them. We cranked with everything we had left in our tanks.

It paid off. We rolled into lunch just as the gang was finishing up. I downed a cold brew, inhaled my lunch, and we hit the road again—this time, finally, at a pace where we could breathe.

Two Crazy Cousins (and a Loaner)

Back on the road, the stress melted away. We left the highway for a stunning bike trail, trading traffic noise for conversation and views. At one point, the absurdity of the day hit us.
Jeff shouted: “I’m riding my bike across the country!” I yelled back: “I’m riding a loaner across the country!”

We rolled into the final stretch with Kirsten and Rob, finishing the day together. To celebrate surviving the gear-snapping, knee-grinding, saddle-swapping drama, Jeff and I treated ourselves to the only appropriate reward: a chocolate chip cookie ice cream sandwich.

Back in the Saddle

Late in the afternoon, Jeff and Dennis worked their magic, installing a new cable and restoring my “dream bike” to her former glory. I missed her terribly today, but I’m grateful for the hustle, the help, and the fact that—despite it all—I got every single mile in.

Tomorrow, we ride again. And this time, I’m bringing my own gears.