SAINT MARYS, GEORGIA
Today I rode with Craig Babst and Paul Lemle. Alex Wright was our driver so I was hoping for good things from him.
In our dedication circle, I dedicated the day to Abigail “Happy Abby” Bolenbaugh, a soon-to-be six-year-old who recently celebrated her five-year Cancerversary.
Too early to get ready to ride, we jumped in the Suburban and headed to Richmond Hill, Georgia, to ride our portion of today’s route. Forgetfulness would plague me today. We were in a parking lot with a CVS and just ready to roll out. Then I remembered I didn’t have my heart rate monitor. Except that I was wearing it. I forgot.
No longer using cue sheets, we simply followed our instructions to ride on US 17. I don’t like 17 in Virginia, I didn’t like it in South Carolina, and I didn’t like it in Georgia.
The morning was quite pleasant with temperatures near 70 (21 ℃) expected to reach the low 80s. I was one hour into the ride when I remembered that I had forgotten to apply Chamois Butt’r.
US 17 is a four-lane road, but in this section, it wasn’t heavily traveled. Craig, Paul, and I had been riding in a pace line, loosely, and Alex was following, blocking one lane of traffic for us. With no traffic behind, I told the guys to keep pedaling, and I’d catch up. I dropped back to the “team car” and told Alex I had forgotten to use Chamois Butt’r.
Rolling on US 17, he reached for the tube. I extended my hand. He squeezed. Nothing came out. “Uh, Alex,” I said, “You need to first remove the foil from under the cap.”
Alex removed the cap, then the foil, and replaced the cap. Reaching out the window, he squeezed a sliver of Butt’r on my finger. I looked at him. “Dude, I need a dollop. A dollop.” Alex then squeezed out a blob of the stuff on my fingers. I thanked him and rode ahead.
Now what? I was rolling down the highway about 50 meters behind Craig and Paul with a dollop of Chamois Butt’r in my hand. This would be harder than I expected. But I got out of the saddle and was able to apply it to the chamois and keep rolling.
Catching Craig and Paul, they asked where I went. “Chamois Butt’r,” I said.
Alex had looked at the route and found a longer but safer alternative. Thankfully. Our first turn was at Mile 25 near South Newport. We first passed The World’s Smallest Church* and then I asked the group to stop. We did and offered up The World’s Biggest Prayer for Meg Shipman’s friend, Kristen.
Once we were off US 17, we could ride more freely. Out in the country, I was shocked to see a runner approaching us. It was that remote. But I reached for a Key to Keys card and rode over to his side of the road. I held the card for him to reach and made a perfect handoff. This was the start of something big.
We had business cards about the ride, and we were challenged to hand them out. And I took it to a new level. It was easy for me because I believed in the mission. On this day, I saw a woman on the side of the road, and I stopped and handed her a card and told her what we were doing. And so I would all the way to Key West.
We had a nice ride into Darien, Georgia, riding on moss-covered streets, passing beautiful houses and mileage signs, including one to Key West.
Hopping aboard our magic transporter, we were taken to Saint Marys, Georgia, which was my first day arriving well before dinner. Saint Marys is a quaint town located on the Cumberland Island National Seashore. It begged of exploration by bike, of which I had time, but I found the one washing machine next door in a small store. I opted to wash clothes instead. I’m sure my teammates were thankful.
The evening dinner was Brunswick Stew, presented by a local cycling club. One of the riders warned us to eat towards the picnic area or else the “noseeums” would eat us up. Tiny gnats, biting midges, impossible to see, but you could sure feel them. The evening was beautiful, but one didn’t want to spend time outside.
(There is no Upyours, WV)
I was very pleased that my cousins, whom I had only met online before, Brad and Mindy Lawmaster, drove in from Jacksonville to meet me. I was touched and honored. But it was here that I began to question the mission. Brad had driven far and met the requirement for a young adult, that is, under 40. He was desperate for help with his cancer, and after a private meeting, he was told they could only help in the Baltimore area. It wasn’t quite the organization I thought it was.
Hannah, Sam, Mindy, Emma, Brad, Jack, Barry
Next door in a bar, the owner made it Karaoke night. It was a throwdown of talent between Vince Schiano and Rob Keleher. Everyone else sang for fun, but these two sang for keeps. I was explaining to one of the patrons and pointing out each person and why they had no reason to smile or laugh. Everyone’s lives had been changed by cancer, but here we were, one group, laughing like we may not have laughed in years.
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*There are a number of small churches in the U.S. that claim the title of Smallest Church in the World,
Each day was to average 200 miles, and each of the four groups should ride 50 of those and be driven 150 miles. Today’s ride was from Hilton Head to St. Marys, Ga. By car, that should be around 190 miles.
MILEAGE: 57.1 miles
SPEED: 15.2 mph
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