journal #2 12/27/16

12/27/16, 10:55pm, warmshowers guest room

day one done! starting off felt oddly mundane, especially since we’d done the exact same path the day before to WB’s. it didn’t quite hit that we were leaving on a longish bike trip and traveling hundreds of miles from home, working every inch of those miles. I think it still hasn’t hit.

had a small fiasco with google maps, as it directed us again and again to ride on the shoulder of the freeway — slightly logistically problematic, as we were staring directly at multiple neon orange signs screaming in block letters information to the contrary. plan b through —- worked fine, but ended up adding a solid 1.5 hours of biking comprised of 18% extra mileage, 27% killer hills, and 55% my refusal to go faster than 10 miles an hour, because the you win the tour de france by being a turtle, or something like that. @JH – —-. nopenopenope

 we hit the pacific coast, and from there on it was smooth roads, no cars, and a fucking postcard of a beautifully polluted sunset on our left. the sunset in particular was mesmerizing to watch — the colors deepening and developing from a light ombre blue sky to an intense, cloudless painter’s smear of pink, yellow, orange, all reflecting on a deep blue. as I told JH: while there are breathtakingly immersive nature scenes over on the east coast — the peak of a hike, with green on all sides and mountains extending into the distance, or a snowy dusting on a branch — there’s not an expansive, open, awe-inspiringly homogeneous phenomenon quite like the pacific ocean. it just stretches out, strikingly flat, all the way to nothing. we were running a bit late, but of course took the 15 minutes to stop and watch the sun slip below the horizon, imperceptibly slowly and too fast all at once; we snacked on a bagel and asian snacks and pistachios. it’s a solid moment of the day, and a solid moment of camaraderie.

a final defining tidbit of the day: rode to the —- to say goodbye to my mom; a happy farewell evolved into tears dropping from her eyes, small tears in the trip. “was I too harsh on her?” I ask JH. I want a third view. his answer is unsatisfactory, roundabout. I think about my mother and my intolerance for her intolerance as we ride through the flats of camp pendleton, past the eerily homogeneous houses with identical shiny windows, past the odd country club looking building in the midst of nothing, like an oasis; there are no people; it is as if there never were people and the town is nothing but an enormous dollhouse.

I think about why I chose JH to do this with me and I realize it is because we can be miserable together and still have fun. I worry about when WB joins us. Will I be too slow? I am embarrassed. what does this say about our friendship?

my butt is so squished I can’t even fart

we’re going to tan only on the left side


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