Intro

Welcome to a story, or stories I should say. A compilation of adventure tales. An ongoing itch to see, smell, and touch the world, or at least the deserted roads and rarely trampled mountains of America. Characters within the descriptive paragraphs of these stories carve out the coming and going companions in life; vital life people and pieces that parallel a universe for moments, days, years. And then spear off, leaving granules of magnificent memories of magical places. They leave a lasting trace, a gained sense of courage to stand tall on oxygen deprived mountains and shout absurdities like: I love you Ralph! Ralph is a teenage reindeer stuffed of the finest synthetic polyester fiber poof; he says made in Indonesia but really tells me he is from the North Pole. Delivered through a chimney one December night 20 years ago, we instantly became cuddle buddies upon that morning's sunrise. He is the instigator. The inspiration. And the imagination. He breathes creativity. Laughter. His is a dear companion. And yes, at 4lbs he tags along atop a pack or strapped to a rack. In delirium of 107 degree heat, the small possession of material belongings gain a persona. Innate objects become friends of the road and trails. And as for the humans who accompany, their presence reads priceless. Without O'Reilly, a 29 year old New Hampshirian with superior taste buds, the mathematical six foot four inch tall German, or handful of organic peanut butter and 99 cent jam eating munchkins, there would be a lot less excitement. The encounters we make with our specie, encapsulating the world with their awkward ways and over consumerist love, somehow we have managed to become overly adored creatures. Their generous hearts restore a faith that goodness prevails in the upheaval of a sometimes lost humanity. As for myself, I'm just the navigator, paddling up the stream of life munching on Clif Bars, with an iPhone documenting the frailties and goodies underneath all the simplified complexities in the world we reside. So again, I welcome you to get lost and dream a little through this typed text and your imagination. My name is Kristen Gentilucci. I live in Berkeley California and I love dogs.


Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Day 23. "on track"

Miles: 87. 101 for a special few.
Weather: perfect at 8am, 95 the rest of the day.

After being vanned yesterday I was fresh and eager to get on the real road with the wind blowing in my hair. Today looked a lot like corn corn, more dying corn, then out of nowhere a state forest. We got harassed for using too much ice from the soda fountain at the general store and took a detour to Columbus Indiana to discover a town full of fun shaped buildings and colorful splashes of color which scattered the city.

But the best part was yet to come at mile 91. You see, there is this movie called Breaking Away, a favorite of mine, a true story from the 70s of a bicycle race called the Little 500 in the town of Bloomington. Here we were rolling into Bloomington, at 91 miles, I was on a mission to find the track and complete this day with a century it black gravel.

Searching high and low for this track we found it nestled in the woods of Indiana university. Gated and locked off, we hoped the fence shamelessly on a mission. If the police showed up, look at us officer, we are 4 guys and a girl dressed in filthy spandex, decked out with enough water for grow a farm and plastered in red white and blue. At 91 miles into the day we definitely weren't here to cause trouble.

We trekked down to the track. Was this it? Gravel so thick we fish tailed around. And then we started, Mr. Wimer and I, propelled ourselves round and round on the famous dirt track laughing and cheering pretending we were in the movies. Holland on the sideline cheering and camera crew, Josh M. snapping the shutter away as we chased each other down. At about lap 20 I was losing steam. My team wanted to leave and I still had 20 more to go to hit 100 miles.

Mile 95, I'm starving, tired, hot, and being begged to get off the track and home to our host.

Mile 99.5, we arrive at the host. 3 laps around the parking lot and my mission is complete.

We are staying at the Disneyland of a Church, so big we couldn't find our own posse of of stinky noisy selves. We all about passed out on the hallway floor, spandex and all, bonking in out naps, until the van arrived with our minty fresh shower kits, clean undies, and pile of brownies.

Dinner was fabulous, thanks to Morgan's aunt. The corn here is my new favorite food. Yum yum yum.