Our bicycling dreams are sitting atop a fragile glass plate, teetering on the edge of a tall shelf over a stony floor. We've stayed in a crummy hotel in a crummy town eating crummy food for a week and we've had enough. Mike's knee has been rested, iced and given heavy doses of anti-inflammatories and although he's starting to feel better, his short trial ride yesterday wasn't as successful as we had hoped. His knee started aching after only 9 miles on an unloaded bike and it still hurt this morning. Could he have rode today on a loaded bike? Yes, probably, but it only would have taken us back to ground zero and we would likely have found ourselves in a similar situation, only in a different crummy little town a few miles up the road.

Our dreams have not yet shattered though. The plate has not fallen (and we're praying it doesn't), but morale is low and this morning our white flag of surrender was officially raised. Our bikes have been sitting in the corner of our hotel room for a week wondering why on earth they're not out exploring the world as we had promised. Quite frankly, we're wondering the same thing; this is not the adventure we had hoped for. After a tearful admittance to ourselves this morning that we are only wasting our time and money by sitting here pretending not to be bored, gloomy and miserable, we made the inevitable call to a friend that we've been avoiding for several days. Tomorrow we will be rescued from the prison walls of this Motel 6 and taken back home.

But we set out on an adventure, defined as an exciting or very unusual experience of uncertain outcome. We can't let this little glitch in plans stop us, so we're stealthily dropping by, trading in our bikes for a car and picking up a few more supplies since we won't have to worry about the weight of our loads for a while. (Funny thing is we just sent home and ditched about 10 pounds of stuff in an effort to lighten our bikes and take some of the strain off of our joints.) As much as we would like to stay in town for a couple of days to see friends and family, we can't let ourselves do that...we're not supposed to be back home yet and I'm not ready to have to say good-bye again.

“Life On A Bike” is going to become “Life On A Road Trip With Our Bikes Strapped To The Back Of The Car” for a little while, but hopefully not long. Our plan is to go up to Idaho and base ourselves at a friend's house, travel by car to wherever we feel like going, rest Mike's knee for a bit longer and then slowly start building up the miles and the load until we're ready to get back on our bikes.  I will keep up the blog as I'm sure we'll continue to encounter interesting people, places and experiences as this adventure continues!


Betsy said...

Awww... sorry it's not working out the way you'd hoped, but good for you for moving to Plan B. I hope to still see you in Seattle!

Kate Keel said...

Bummer... I still hope you make it up to Portland. Aaron and I will be here another month before we take off for Massachusetts.

Nothing ever goes as planned. It wouldn't be an adventure if it did.
Best of luck.

Mom said...

As Forest Gump stated,"Life is a box of chocolates." This time you drew the one with the lousy cherry! 'Life sometimes gives you lemons, so go out and make lemonade.' Keep in touch and enjoy your "Plan B!" Love you bunches

John said...

That's the right decision Cari and Mike. You can still have adventures while giving it plenty of time to heal! JohnE

NancyE said...

[[[BIG HUGS!!!]]] Here's a story, from the Dao.
A poor farmer saved all his life to buy a horse. After years of pinching yen, he had enough saved at last, so he went to town and bought the long-wished-for horse. It was a magnificent animal, and his neighbors were envious and admiring.
"Now you're a wealthy man," they said. "You have a fine horse, and your life will be much easier."
"Things change," said the farmer.
The next day, the horse ran away, and the neighbors were sad for the farmer.
"Now you're a poor man again, and you've lost your life's savings. Your grief must be great."
The farmer only shrugged and said, "Things change."
Not long after, the horse came back, leading a herd of beautiful wild mares it had collected on the open plain.
The farmer's neighbors threw up their hands in astonishment and cried, "Now you are the wealthiest man in all the province! What a lucky fellow you are!"
But the farmer seemed matter-of-fact. "Things change," he said.
A week later, the herd of beautiful mares trampled the farmer's son, crushing and breaking his legs horribly, crippling him forever. The neighbors wept for the farmer and his handsome young son, whose life would never be what they had dreamed.
Yet even in the face of this tragedy, the farmer said quietly, "Things change."
The next year, the Emperor's soldiers came to the farmer's door and demanded all of his able-bodied sons for conscription. "I have but one son," said the farmer. "And as you can see, he is a cripple." The soldiers went away empty-handed. But even while he rejoiced, the farmer couldn't help saying, "Things change."


NancyE said...

LOL! Which is not to say Mike is crippled for the rest of his life. =:0 Just that this is an opportunity for a different kind of adventure. A side road that will probably join up with the original plan eventually. Patience grasshoppers.

Chrissy said...

Don't be sad about this, it sounds lke you have a great Plan B in action! The coolest part too, is that you are sharing in this adventure together. Just enjoy this time - very few people take the risks you are taking & so soak it all in. Take care!