I Tried Not To Cry. Michael Beattie
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the Capitol Building, where he takes pictures of me for their Facebook page. He apologizes that the congressman is back in Connecticut, but states that he is aware of my journey and very interested in my work and cause. The lad is very nice, but I sort of have the feeling that they’re being nice to me just to move me along. I guess I’ll never know, but until now I have the feeling that no one really wants to talk with me about the problem, as if trying to hide it under the rug. I know that Congressman Courtney is a good man, who fights for veterans in Connecticut, so I’ll keep talking and handing out my cards, trying to not get discouraged.
By the time I leave the capital area and cross the Arlington Memorial Bridge, the wind is really picking up. After crossing the bridge, my route takes me along the Mount Vernon bike trail, which parallels the Potomac River. The cherry trees are in bloom as well as many scrubs, which make for a fragrant ride. Not knowing how far my day would be today due to the meetings in Washington, I decide to wait until today to book a room for tonight. I stop along the trail to check my notebook and my phone for possible motels. I book an inexpensive chain motel in the Mount Vernon area. As I continue along the trail, the wind is so strong, it physically blows me off the pathway three times, making me glad I’m not riding on the road. Man, the wind is making my sixty-five-mile day seem so much farther. When I booked the room, I didn’t realize it would take me an additional eight miles off my route, so now as it’s starting to get dark, I need to push more miles toward the motel. I arrive at the Quality Inn just at dark along a very busy road, making me again thankful for my bright strobe lights. I’ll be so glad when I get away from these metropolitan high-traffic areas.
My legs are feeling good today, partially from all the stopping I did along the way, but the butt is still so uncomfortable. There are many fast-food places near my motel room, so I’ll go for something quick as it’s getting late and I still need to do my blog post. The room is okay, although nothing to write home about. It has a shower and a bed, and that’s all I want at this point. We never heard from the TV station that promised to do a story of my ride, but I’m getting used to that. Once again, I did get many people who stopped me along the way to thank me and donate to the cause, so this information is relayed on to Sue. I truly believe that these people keep me going when my mind says to stop. For now, all I need is sleep, as I continue to ice my knees before turning in.
The breakfast offered at the motel is decent, so I load up before heading back the eight miles to connect to my route. Almost immediately after rejoining my route, it starts to rain. I don my gear and continue on in this almost hot seventy-degree start. The temperature seems to be climbing as I move further south. It feels hot to me already after the below-freezing temperatures I began with not long ago. The rain continues hard for two hours before the sun comes through in its full capacity, to warm it up to eighty-seven degrees, which helps dry me off quickly. Now the wind is helping to cool me down from the heat as I push along. My knees seem to be better today as I maneuver through the hills of Virginia. I’m hoping to make it into Fredericksburg, Virginia, which is about eighty miles from my morning start. I ride through the towns of Lorton, Dale City, and finally around the Quantico Marine Corps Base area. The traffic is heavy here, as the road has little to no shoulder to ride on, and I don’t feel very safe. Car drivers blow their horns at me as if in their disapproval of me riding along the roadside. At one point, a pickup truck passes by close to me and the passenger and driver both throw trash at me. Luckily the bottle they threw just misses me, but the trash doesn’t! I’m not sure what’s wrong with people, as I’m not on the travel portion of the road, and I stay as far right as possible. I fly the US flag high above me to the rear of the bike. I’m as brightly visible as possible to warn people of my presence, and if they don’t like the American flag, well, that’s too bad because it’ll stay flying high the entire trip. I just guess some people are ignorant, as I try to not let it discourage me, but my temper is pretty hot right now!
Once again, I stop along the roadside to search for and book a room for the night. The only thing close to my budget is a room in a bed-and-breakfast-type thing called the Old Silk Mill Inn. I take it, and once again, it’s dark before I find the old mill after getting lost, which forces me to find it via my Google Maps. As I ride through the city area, a First Friday Street celebration is happening and looks like fun, but not for me. Lots of nice eateries with music and street festivities are going on. It’s 8:00 p.m., as I finally find the Old Silk Mill Inn and get checked in. My room is on the second floor with no elevator to use, so I have to disassemble all my bags and carry them up the long circular staircase to my room. Down I go returning for my bike. I struggle to push the bike up the stairs as I’m exhausted. Another fellow sees me struggle and lends a hand to my efforts. I thank him. The shower feels so good! I hang my wet clothes to dry out and opt to cook noodles in the room, as I’m just too worn out to walk anywhere to eat. They offer a breakfast in the morning, so I’ll stay for that even though it begins much later than I would like to leave. The room is very nice, old, yet nicely appointed with antiques in and outside the rooms. The street is just below my window, and the traffic is noisy, yet, I don’t think I will have any trouble sleeping as I’m worn down. After my nightly post and contacts home, I collapse in the bed.
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