There was nothing that occurred to sugarcoat for this blog today until about 6:15 pm. Today was miserable and took just about everything I could give to get done.
The sound of thunder woke me up in the morning as its boom dominated the noise of the fan on high speed I had running for white noise. As the hail pelted the roof I figured myself to be pretty lucky so long as it passed before I had to leave in a couple of hours.
With cloudy skies, I head down the Moville frontage road to its end before crossing Highway 20 to take a county road to Correctionville. For about two miles it was fantastic! There was no shoulder, but no cars passed me in any direction during that time. As the main road turned south, the connector I needed to take kept east and was no longer paved. In fact, I soon found the road was made of pudding as my cart sunk down about half the width of the tires. It didn't taste nearly as good as pudding I later found out as I slipped trying to get it unstuck. Covered in mud, I returned to erase the progress I had made. Four miles run and I hadn't covered an inch.
The great joke turned even worse as a hail-storm with ridiculous headwind started right as I got back to the highway. I wanted to return to the motel and spend another night, but decided to grit my teeth and close my eyes to run blindly down the gravel shoulder to protect them from hailstones. Iowans on the highway stayed true to their usual form by not changing lanes and provided more water for my shower. At least I had Gatorade waiting for me at my first rest a couple miles down the road-oh wait never mind, I left them in the mini-fridge in the motel.
I turned onto old Highway 20 which went much better than its newer brethren. I stopped into lunch at Correctionville, where I had planned to stay the night before, and had a waitress who told me in all seriousness, "I don't know, get a map" when asked about directions. The day just trudged on through the rolling hills that drained about every ounce of energy I had left in me. I could tell I needed food, but I had no appetite at all. The only break I really took was talking to Tom, a local who was building a deck for his brother's house.
I got back on Highway 20, ready to be done for the day. I noticed milepost 44 which was extremely disheartening. I had only traveled 25 highway miles despite feeling I had run 50. I had run a few more than these 25, and I figured the extra distance to run the county roads was well worth the savings of sticking to the washed out gravel of the shoulder. I still had at least three miles to go until Holstein.
At 6:00 I left my stuff in the city park and ventured out to downtown in hope of finding a motel. There was no way I had the energy to camp after such a miserable day. At 6:15, not having any luck with my search, I asked a group of three heading to their American Legion meeting where I could find one. The nearest one was 12 miles away, but they might be able to help me through their church. They took me in to their potluck where I enjoyed an amazing dinner. I also learned that the highway has a significantly better shoulder about 20 miles away for the rest of the state. After dinner, Jim drove me around town a bit before taking me to the St. Paul Lutheran Church where Pastor Benson unlocked the door and showed me the lounge I would be staying in for the evening.
Despite the day being absolutely miserable, the kindness and generosity of strangers made it one I will remember as a trying time with a great ending. Seeds of doubt were planted in my head early in the day as even I couldn't convince myself that this was fun anymore. Things always kind of have a funny way of working out in the end.
The sound of thunder woke me up in the morning as its boom dominated the noise of the fan on high speed I had running for white noise. As the hail pelted the roof I figured myself to be pretty lucky so long as it passed before I had to leave in a couple of hours.
With cloudy skies, I head down the Moville frontage road to its end before crossing Highway 20 to take a county road to Correctionville. For about two miles it was fantastic! There was no shoulder, but no cars passed me in any direction during that time. As the main road turned south, the connector I needed to take kept east and was no longer paved. In fact, I soon found the road was made of pudding as my cart sunk down about half the width of the tires. It didn't taste nearly as good as pudding I later found out as I slipped trying to get it unstuck. Covered in mud, I returned to erase the progress I had made. Four miles run and I hadn't covered an inch.
The great joke turned even worse as a hail-storm with ridiculous headwind started right as I got back to the highway. I wanted to return to the motel and spend another night, but decided to grit my teeth and close my eyes to run blindly down the gravel shoulder to protect them from hailstones. Iowans on the highway stayed true to their usual form by not changing lanes and provided more water for my shower. At least I had Gatorade waiting for me at my first rest a couple miles down the road-oh wait never mind, I left them in the mini-fridge in the motel.
I turned onto old Highway 20 which went much better than its newer brethren. I stopped into lunch at Correctionville, where I had planned to stay the night before, and had a waitress who told me in all seriousness, "I don't know, get a map" when asked about directions. The day just trudged on through the rolling hills that drained about every ounce of energy I had left in me. I could tell I needed food, but I had no appetite at all. The only break I really took was talking to Tom, a local who was building a deck for his brother's house.
I got back on Highway 20, ready to be done for the day. I noticed milepost 44 which was extremely disheartening. I had only traveled 25 highway miles despite feeling I had run 50. I had run a few more than these 25, and I figured the extra distance to run the county roads was well worth the savings of sticking to the washed out gravel of the shoulder. I still had at least three miles to go until Holstein.
At 6:00 I left my stuff in the city park and ventured out to downtown in hope of finding a motel. There was no way I had the energy to camp after such a miserable day. At 6:15, not having any luck with my search, I asked a group of three heading to their American Legion meeting where I could find one. The nearest one was 12 miles away, but they might be able to help me through their church. They took me in to their potluck where I enjoyed an amazing dinner. I also learned that the highway has a significantly better shoulder about 20 miles away for the rest of the state. After dinner, Jim drove me around town a bit before taking me to the St. Paul Lutheran Church where Pastor Benson unlocked the door and showed me the lounge I would be staying in for the evening.
Despite the day being absolutely miserable, the kindness and generosity of strangers made it one I will remember as a trying time with a great ending. Seeds of doubt were planted in my head early in the day as even I couldn't convince myself that this was fun anymore. Things always kind of have a funny way of working out in the end.
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