Starting off after two days' rest was a very strange feeling. Over the days of rest I started to re-acclimate to a more normal way of life and the prospect of running 35 miles seemed a little daunting. I left my amazing hosts with a stomach full of breakfast, cookies and chocolate for the road, a new tuque, and a pair of wool socks. I hope to see Mary and Alan again soon either in Portland or Chadron.
Since the start of the trip I had known I had a place to stay in Chadron. It was kind of a prominent target on the map of the US. This was as far east as any connection made before the run would take me, moving on from here felt like venturing into the unknown. The only stop I really know for sure for the rest of the run is the Atlantic Ocean, and I still haven't even figured out what state that will happen in yet. I don't even know where my next rest day will be.
I passed through Hay Springs and made my first real stop at the gas station in Rushville. Slightly disappointed that the restaurant was closed I settled for a 44 oz Dr. Pepper float for two bucks. I'd never seen a self-serve soft ice-cream dispenser in a gas station before.
As I sat down in a booth at the window to supervise my stroller outside, an older man, noticing my hat, asked me, "what do you know about Canada boy?" I told him I knew everything worth knowing. Ernie was from southwestern Ontario and had ranched in the Okanagan in BC until moving to Nebraska to be a long-haul trucker. We talked for about an hour covering a wide range of topics, mostly following his life and travels. He maintained Canadian citizenship but enjoyed all the rights of an American except the right to vote-something he didn't mind too much considering the political climate here. He hoped to move to Prince Edward Island in the near future for the rest of his life.
I left the restaurant to sunny skies and noticed the temperature to be 87 degrees according to the lighted sign at the bank. Only 14 miles left to Gordon. Four miles in, I stopped at milepost 95 to admire the apocalypse taking place to the north in South Dakota. The clouds made up for any lack of scenery in the terrain as they swirled around the sky in seemingly every direction with a southeast trend. One massive white one, on the fringe of the black sky, looked like a plinian volcanic eruption.
The celebration for arriving to the sign congratulating me on my 100 miles of running in Nebraska didn't quite go as planned. Instead of the usual stopping to eat and drink and maybe listen to a song or two on my phone, I picked up the pace to try to beat out the thunderhead of the north to Gordon. Based on the location of the cloud at this point compared to five miles ago I figured I stood a good chance. As the wind started to pick up and sky started to flash I noticed my pace pick up quite a bit.
I started to hear the thunder following the flashes of lightning in the distance and decided to seek shelter in a home adjacent to a radio station's tower. I told the resident my situation and she gave me advice as a professional Nebraskan that the lightning was a safe 3-4 miles away and I would be able to make it to Gordon without any problem. I thanked her for the tip, but didn't feel any safer and just figured she didn't want to let me in. I only had 3 miles to go and, despite a healthy dose of fear, still had a little confidence I could beat the storm.
The thunder was getting closer and closer, but from a different thunderhead that was coming from directly behind me. I got into the Western Cafe and checked the weather alert issued to Sheridan County stating, "Severe thunderstorm approaching Gordon with nickel sized hail and 1 inch of rain in a one half hour interval-seek shelter in a sturdy structure." The forecast came true as the cafe was bombarded with an artillery of hailstones. Booming thunder added to the storm's symphony.
Once the storm had passed I left the cafe and didn't see much in the way of clear sky to the west. The weather forecast warned of more lightning and hail. I decided it may be worthwhile to splurge on a cheap motel for the night. I dropped 50 bucks on a little piece of mind that I'd stay warm, dry, and avoid electrocution.
Since the start of the trip I had known I had a place to stay in Chadron. It was kind of a prominent target on the map of the US. This was as far east as any connection made before the run would take me, moving on from here felt like venturing into the unknown. The only stop I really know for sure for the rest of the run is the Atlantic Ocean, and I still haven't even figured out what state that will happen in yet. I don't even know where my next rest day will be.
I passed through Hay Springs and made my first real stop at the gas station in Rushville. Slightly disappointed that the restaurant was closed I settled for a 44 oz Dr. Pepper float for two bucks. I'd never seen a self-serve soft ice-cream dispenser in a gas station before.
As I sat down in a booth at the window to supervise my stroller outside, an older man, noticing my hat, asked me, "what do you know about Canada boy?" I told him I knew everything worth knowing. Ernie was from southwestern Ontario and had ranched in the Okanagan in BC until moving to Nebraska to be a long-haul trucker. We talked for about an hour covering a wide range of topics, mostly following his life and travels. He maintained Canadian citizenship but enjoyed all the rights of an American except the right to vote-something he didn't mind too much considering the political climate here. He hoped to move to Prince Edward Island in the near future for the rest of his life.
I left the restaurant to sunny skies and noticed the temperature to be 87 degrees according to the lighted sign at the bank. Only 14 miles left to Gordon. Four miles in, I stopped at milepost 95 to admire the apocalypse taking place to the north in South Dakota. The clouds made up for any lack of scenery in the terrain as they swirled around the sky in seemingly every direction with a southeast trend. One massive white one, on the fringe of the black sky, looked like a plinian volcanic eruption.
The celebration for arriving to the sign congratulating me on my 100 miles of running in Nebraska didn't quite go as planned. Instead of the usual stopping to eat and drink and maybe listen to a song or two on my phone, I picked up the pace to try to beat out the thunderhead of the north to Gordon. Based on the location of the cloud at this point compared to five miles ago I figured I stood a good chance. As the wind started to pick up and sky started to flash I noticed my pace pick up quite a bit.
I started to hear the thunder following the flashes of lightning in the distance and decided to seek shelter in a home adjacent to a radio station's tower. I told the resident my situation and she gave me advice as a professional Nebraskan that the lightning was a safe 3-4 miles away and I would be able to make it to Gordon without any problem. I thanked her for the tip, but didn't feel any safer and just figured she didn't want to let me in. I only had 3 miles to go and, despite a healthy dose of fear, still had a little confidence I could beat the storm.
The thunder was getting closer and closer, but from a different thunderhead that was coming from directly behind me. I got into the Western Cafe and checked the weather alert issued to Sheridan County stating, "Severe thunderstorm approaching Gordon with nickel sized hail and 1 inch of rain in a one half hour interval-seek shelter in a sturdy structure." The forecast came true as the cafe was bombarded with an artillery of hailstones. Booming thunder added to the storm's symphony.
Once the storm had passed I left the cafe and didn't see much in the way of clear sky to the west. The weather forecast warned of more lightning and hail. I decided it may be worthwhile to splurge on a cheap motel for the night. I dropped 50 bucks on a little piece of mind that I'd stay warm, dry, and avoid electrocution.
My opponent in the race to Gordon
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