I take pride in a blithe approach to both life and writing. This trip has forced me into smiling through rough times, laughing while miserable, and “grin-and-bearing” with suboptimal conditions. But if I could take a superlative, I’d say this last week was the most physically and emotionally challenging week of my life.

A few days ago I got one of the worst phone calls you could ever fear to get. My beloved dog, Rudi, passed away. No one should ever have to hear a sentence from their parents prefaced with “We’ve got some bad news,” but when I heard my mom say it, time stood still as I wished for anything but what ended up coming next. But I sat there, totally bankrupt of any previous feelings and tried to keep the lump in my throat from growing and the tears in my eyes from creeping out. All I’ve known since I was 13 was having Rudi around, and I hardly feel ready to deal with this.

Chris told me, “losing a dog is like losing a family member and a best friend all in one,” and he’s exactly right. It’s hard for me imagine life without my dumb little beagle running around, especially when I’m thousands of miles away in the middle of Montana. It had been an immense day: climbing and descending through Glacier National Park as I passed some of the most surreal landscapes I’ll ever see. But all I’ll remember from that day is it was the day I found out my dog died. Thanks to all my friends, family and team members who’ve lent support these last few days.

But I can’t dwell on this otherwise it’ll eat me alive. You know what else can eat me alive? Bears, and we’ve been camping in their vicinity. They’re the thorns to Glacier National Park’s rose.

I had been tacit about it in earlier posts, but I’ll be clear now: the overwhelming majority of Montana is dreadful. It’s flat, hot, windy, smoky and an awful place to ride a bike for a week. But we’re out of the crap part of Montana (or as western Montanans call it, “West Dakota”), have traversed Glacier and are enjoying a merited day off in Whitefish. For the first time in a month, I’m wearing pants which have belt loops, and I plan to be in this coffee-shop/froyo stand for the next 12 or so hours.

But, my goodness, Glacier!

The descent from 6,600+ feet was unnerving as it was freezing at the top, the road was littered with tourists’ cars, my brakes were squealing and my equilibrium was out of whack from dropping thousands of feet within minutes. So I didn’t get any photos of the fall, but Drew’s GoPro captured the lot of it, and he just might churn out another video if I ever finishing writing this and cede my laptop to him.

So now we’re in Whitefish, a town a few miles outside of Glacier that is littered with things to do. And I’m going to do none of them. My mind is telling me to go zip-lining, paddle-boarding or swimming, but I only plan to move myself to go pour more coffee/frozen yogurt down my throat.

12 is the magic number of riding days left. 751 miles remain, and 83 percent of the ride is on the books. I’ll be riding with some serious emotional weight on my shoulders from here on out, but I’ll make it.

 

“Be strong when you are weak.”

 

North Dakota sent us off with a bang. After the greatest mail-drop to ever drop mail, we finally hit the Badlands, which brought my favorite scenery yet.

Upon riding into Montana, the state in which we’ll be spending the most time, it seemed like it was rejecting us like a body rejecting a poor organ post-transplant. For two days straight, Montana’s winds were literally trying to blow us back into North Dakota. We camped one night in Makoshika State Park, a very popular place for dinosaur bone excavations! The entire town of Glendive milks their prehistoric knack, and despite having no amenities, it was a really, really rad place to camp.

Yesterday we rode our longest distance yet of 107 miles, all into 30+ mph headwinds. Here are some direct quotes from some of us after finishing a particular 30 mile leg: “That was literally hell,” “Well that was the worst part of the Northern Tier,” “I hate everything about life,” and, “F*** everything about Montana.” Our collective grump was off the charts, but it feels damn good to have our last century done with. Today’s ride was short, therapeutic, and we finally have shelter and showers available! We’re all warming up to Montana a bit.

As I eluded to earlier, Hardywood Brewery in Richmond were kind enough to donate a brand new jersey to me for the trip! I absolutely adore it, and might even wear it around in normal social settings post-trip.

At the time of writing this, we are just three weeks and about 1,200 miles away from Seattle, and one week until our next rest day!

Today, after riding through scenic North Dakota (not an oxymoron, actually!) the lot of us were greeted by a massive mail-drop here in Hebron.

Also among the packages was a bag from Hardywood Brewery, and inside was a beautiful new jersey and keychain! Pictures will be up on here or my Instagram pronto. I don’t even care for the 83 miles awaiting me tomorrow because I’ll get to ride them in my brand new jersey! A HUGE thank you to the entire Hardywood team for their donation and support!

Today made me a little homesick after feeling all the love coming at us from Virginia, be it from my parents, friends, or favorite brewery. Other than this, there isn’t much else to report on. We passed through Bismarck, the state’s capitol which was a neat little city, and we’ll be into Montana in about 48 hours! That also means I’ll be changing timezones again, which really just means I’ll be accidentally calling my parents even later than I already am.

North Dakota hasn’t proven to be the barren terrain I was expecting. It certainly has it’s share of crops and fields, but peppered in are lakes, buttes, and rolling hills. We might even see parts of the Badlands, which would be pretty incredible. But I must make haste and end this, as it’s now 11 PM and way past my bedtime!

We’ve made the final major shift in route, and are headed purely west through North Dakota! This opens up another tough stretch of flat land, strong winds, and another two weeks without a rest day. But we didn’t take off without some time off in the state’s biggest city: Fargo! Bookending those great days of riding with stays in Minneapolis and Fargo made it feel like we’ve had a whole rest week, and I’ll speak for everyone in saying we’re bummed to see it go.

North Dakota is the third-least populous state in the country, and we’re certainly feeling that now as I’m writing this from Kathryn, a town of 52 people per the census. We literally increased the town’s population by 50 percent when we rolled in.

But Fargo was an interesting little city, and a nice way to be welcomed in. We couldn’t quite tell if it was a full-on college town (as North Dakota State’s colors dominate the town), or if it was leaning on becoming a bigger metropolis. However Fargo may swing, it wasn’t devoid of great food and nice people. I was thrilled to have my first fish taco in over a month, and a local pub brought me a chocolate stout which could’ve been a meal in itself. Our service project required using a jackhammer and moving a shed, neither of which any of us were qualified to do. But we found a way to get it all done, and Aaron, the MS patient we were helping, seemed thrilled about his new backyard digs.

With the Tour de France starting, the number of weird looks we get strolling into pubs have gone through the roof. People stare enough when there’s 20+ of us strutting around smelly and spandex-clad, but when we run up to the barkeep asking to change the channel to the Tour, the locals look at us like we’ve lost our marbles. Which may be true, but that’s a story for another day.

Minnesota saw us off on the Fourth of July in Fergus Falls. Our favorite bike path and tailwinds brought us up to town like a jet-stream, and we had a small cookout on the lake in celebration.

Now, we’re all hunkering down with our sights set on Bismarck, a glimpse of the Badlands, a mail-drop, and of course, Glacier! Being so well rested and stronger has made the tough headwinds of North Dakota more tenable, but they’ve been a challenge nonetheless. Going forward, WiFi and resources in general may be scarce, so wish us luck as we close in on 3,000 miles.

We’re at a point in the trip at which we’re counting down the days left, opposed to just counting them. Over half of the time and mileage is behind us, and only four states stand between us and the Pacific Ocean. By now, we have a group dynamic of a huge, multicultural, eclectic family and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I never thought I’d have heart-to-heart chats with an Irishman in the middle of the night, ride 100 miles through the Indiana countryside with a German anesthesiologist, or camp out amongst the bears in New Hampshire, but Bike the US for MS has enabled me to do all that. There are already so many stories which sound like they came from a Mad Libs book, and the back end of the trip is shaping up to be just as uncouth.

I feel like I’m in a honeymoon state with the trip. The winds are at our backs, the daily mileage right around the average, and a desolate, yet beautifully paved bike path has been carrying us through Minnesota up toward North Dakota. Most of June was spent looking forward to the Great Lakes, Cleveland and Minneapolis. Now I’m really psyched about Fargo, N.D., Glacier National Park and, well, running into the Pacific!

It only took me 2300 miles, but I finally have my entire daily routine perfected. Waking up at a consistent time, eating just the right amount, riding at around the same pace, and keeping entertained while riding (be it music, podcasts or just chatting) are some of the ancillary details which are way more difficult to fine-tune than I’d ever have imagined.

Upon reflecting on it I’m realizing these last few days have been really ideal, so here’s to hoping this streak continues!

We’re in Dalbo, Minnesota, and earlier today our route leaders mentioned tonight may be a treat. We showed up at The Bicycle Bunkhouse, a barn-turned hostel for touring cyclists. Donn and Sherry Olsen are the couple responsible for building and maintaining it, and Bike the US for MS presented them this year’s Dymond Award for outstanding hospitality!

The Adventure Cyclists Bunkhouse harbors such an awesome feeling of community, and the Olsens have been so kind to us. It seems they don’t see the bunkhouse as something outstanding they went out of their way to do, but something they felt obligated to do. The bunkhouse is truly one-of-a-kind.

 

 

 

A week ago, we thought we’d be getting two days off in Minneapolis, but late in the route, we realized we could shave a whole day off of riding if we added miles on Friday and went straight into Minneapolis from Prescott, Wisconsin. And since it was off-route, our maps were useless and we had to rely on Google Maps on our phones to get us to the Twin Cities.

So the pot of variables were: not knowing where to go, phones’ batteries on the brink of dying, scattered thunderstorms, and 25 more miles than originally anticipated on Friday. That’s a pretty good recipe for a stressed out and crabby Mike. But we made it, and all immediately fell in love with Minneapolis.

We rolled out of bed and checked out one of Minneapolis’ many farmers markets. It was absolutely massive and just a really cool environment to be a part of. I washed down a few croissants with a cup of coffee from a vendor whose family grows, picks, grinds and brews the beans, and chatted with some locals about our trip.

The University of Minnesota put us up in some vacant dorms, and I went off own my own a few times to check out their campus which is huge and beautiful. Minneapolis is one of the most bike-friendly cities in the country and it doesn’t take long to learn why. There are more bike shops than we could check out, boatloads of trails to bring you virtually anywhere, and even entire blocks banned to car traffic.

Two service projects beckoned over the weekend, and they were each equally jaw-dropping. Sunday we went to help out Janet, a local who’s been living with MS for about 20 years. Her lawn and gardens were disheveled since she couldn’t get out often enough to tend to them, and she had been receiving ordinances from city hall about it despite her disability. So she’s been reaching out to Bike the US for MS the last few years, and we’ve been helping tidy it up. I never thought I’d enjoy yard work, but it was great to get my blood flowing doing something other than cycling. As we were leaving, I saw Janet sitting on her stoop, hand holding up her head, gazing across her refurbished lawn with a sense of relief I’ve never felt. To be a part of that, and to help make someone smile like that was just incredible.

Today, we rode over to the Fairview MS Achievement Center, a place where those with MS can go to interact, rehabilitate, socialize and more. The way they were all cheering for us as we rode in, you’d think we all just finished and won the Tour de France. We all introduced ourselves, told our stories and most of us got teary-eyed. Don, Bike the US for MS’s founder and president, handed over a check for $20,000 to the MSAC, comprised of the money we riders have raised! If you’re reading this and you donated, you helped make this happen!

I’ll always remember John at the MSAC. John was a professional musician early in his life before settling down, and 20 years ago he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s. He said he could deal with Parkinson’s all day, but it wasn’t until he was diagnosed with MS five years ago that it all started to take its toll on him. “I didn’t want to come here to see previews of my future attractions,” he joked, but he said it’s been all smiles at the MSAC and now he even has a band with his wife and a volunteer. He sang, played piano and strummed his guitar, and he has multiple sclerosis and Parkinson’s. And he did it all with a gigantic smile on his face.

Sure, I get tired, my legs tighten up and sometimes I don’t feel like waking up and riding. But if John can play in a band with no complaints, what can I possibly complain about? We riders are in pain pretty often, but I learned this weekend it’s a privilege to feel that pain. Meeting Janet, John and everyone else with MS this weekend really reseeded some much-needed inspiration within me and I cannot wait to get back on the saddle.

The rest of the day I relaxed, had more Chipotle, gave my bike a bath, and closed out my stay here by going to the Mall of America. The mall was extravagant in every way and truly a spectacle. It has so many floors with so many nooks and crannies I couldn’t even take a picture which demonstrates its unreal size.

 

I felt such a range of emotions while here in Minneapolis that I’ll always have a place for it in my heart. I definitely plan on returning in some capacity someday as it’s just such a cool city and three days is not enough time to see all it has to offer.

We’re halfway done, and none of us can hardly believe it. I already don’t want it to end, but I also think about celebrating with everyone in the Pacific pretty often. Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, New York, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois and Wisconsin are on the books. North Dakota, Montana, Idaho, Washington, and two more time zones await!

It’s short, simple and pretty basic, but I finally uploaded some of Drew’s GoPro footage! This is Route 7 in Minnesota, and we each hit around 40 mph. Drew is filming, Joe’s in the black/charcoal helmet, Skylar’s is red, Steph’s is white/blue, Jen’s is also black, and mine is white with the red stripe. But enough chatter — here it is!

We’ve escaped the wearisome fields of Illinois and are now in Minneapolis! But before we got here, we made way through Iowa and even dipped into Wisconsin.

Iowa was refreshing thanks to its rolling hills and visual stimuli along the Mississippi River. We were all so gutted by our previous 10 days and their lack of excitement, so Iowa was especially nice to ride through.

A 100 mile ride initially brought us into Iowa, and Drew, Steph and I talked about how we hardly have time to digest everything that’s happened heretofore. We leave just as quick as we come every night, and we hardly ever have time to reflect on everything.

And just like that, a day after that conversation we rode into our tenth state, Minnesota. The Land of 10,000 Lakes has been kind to us so far. I really can’t complain about the occasional rainfall and detour when the majority of our ride’s been along the Mississippi, the wind’s been at our backs and the destinations have been lively. Wabasha will go down as one of the more rambunctious nights on the trip, and we even cut mileage along the way to get a whole extra rest day in the Twin Cities! I cannot emphasize enough how stoked I am to not wear a chamois for 72 hours.

I’m writing this from an Aloft Hotel in Minneapolis, and I already have so many thoughts and pictures of this incredible city, but I’m going to let my time here saturate a bit more before going into detail! I’ll also deliver on my promise of video footage of us riding!

After having spent a few thousand words talking about where we’ve gone and what we’ve done, it probably seems all I do is drink beer and ride bikes. And there’s some truth to that, but a lot more does happen.

After powering through Ohio, Indiana, we’re now well into Illinois, and frankly it’s been uneventful. This part of the Midwest is loaded with not much more than crops, silos and tiny towns. I’ll put it this way: when the 25 of us left Iroquois, Illinois, the town’s population instantly shrunk 20 percent. The open fields were scenic for a bit, but the vicious headwinds which follow suit have made riding really challenging.

Ipso facto, the Midwest is friendly and very hospitable, but the rides themselves have been pretty forgettable. So here’s what a day in the life is like as a Northern Tier rider.

We wake up when the sun rises, which a few months ago would’ve sounded like hell to me, but it’s actually really opportune. I adore mornings, and waking up slow even more so. I spent the better part of my last 1,000 mornings laying in bed for a while, eating a bagel and catching an episode of Sportscenter over the course of an hour. Nowadays, I pack up my tent, sleeping bag, pillow and sleeping pad, cook oatmeal, throw on bike apparel, double-check my tire pressure and derailleur, and take off in about an hour.

Most of the day, operating is pretty simple. Keep hydrated, ride swiftly and eat whenever possible. Like I said in an earlier post, I just concentrate on getting to the next rest stop, wherever it may be. Riding has gotten easier each day, and I’ve actually graduated from the Caboose Squad! I’ve been running with the lead pack lately, and showing up to camp early has been just delightful. Maybe Richmond’s conditioned me to thrive in heat and humidity, but the more the sun beams down, the better pace I’ve been riding with.

Variables which can instantly change a ride, in order of how much I loathe them: 1. Flat tires. 2. Rain. 3. Headwinds. 4. Shoddy pavement. Flats are inevitable, a massive monkey wrench into your pace and just a headache to deal with. Rain and headwinds are self-explanatory, and shoddy pavement both slows you down and increases paranoia of flats.

It’s always exciting to pull into a new town and see what it’s like. If a campsite has free showers with hot water, it feels like a Marriott. Whenever we’re put up indoors with electricity, a kitchen and a laundry room, we might as well be staying in The Ritz-Carlton. However, the more rustic the camping, the more likely we’re all to hang out and kick it together, which is one of the best parts of the trip. I’m getting to know people I would’ve never met otherwise, and everyone on the trip is from a different walk of life. Not to get sappy, but I just adore my teammates and route leaders.

We’re in the middle of a generally bland two week stretch of the ride, but in just one week we’ll be in Minneapolis for three days! We’re over 35 percent of the way done, which is pretty shocking. Sometimes my body feels like it’s already churned out 1600 miles, sometimes I feel as good as new. I’m writing this via the WiFi of a café in Henry, Illinois and they’re about to close, so I’m checking out!