A Waxing Moon in Rabbit Season

In case you didn't know, I made it to Maine. I'm all settled in at the Godins' and working on figuring out job and other stuff. Things are going very well. I'm quickly making friends and gaining clear vision on my purpose for this season of life. I don't think I ever mentioned that I sprained (or something similar... I didn't go to the doctor) my knee about 6 weeks ago. Before you get too concerned, it's doing much better now. See, I just saved you weeks of worrying. I'm rehabbing it right now by riding my bicycle on my trainer down in the basement. I've been doing this and that around town and running into all kinds of people, including some pretty interesting neighbors, which brings me to a couple amusing anecdotes from this morning...


It snowed a good 6 or 7 inches last night, and it wasn't your run of the mill powder. No, it was the thick and nasty kind; the kind of snow you don't want to leave lying around for fear it will turn into cold, heavy concrete. I woke at 7:15 this morning to my alarm, the snow blower cranking up right outside my bedroom window, and suited up for shoveling. After clearing the driveway enough for Debbie to get out to go to work, we headed down the street to make our daily rounds. Second on the list was one of the aforementioned neighbors, Dennis (Not to be confused with the guy I live with, Dennis, or his youngest son, Dennis, Jr., who is off in NY in college). I don't know much of this guy's story, but I do know that he broke his arm last week and came over to ask us to clear his driveway for him. I think it's also relevant to what I'm about to tell you to mention he has a large round nose, a thick New England accent (they don't really say r's unless it's to add an extra 'r' after an 'a'. "Park the car, Brenda" becomes "Pahk the cah, Brender") and speaks slowly. Back to the story. Dennis got going with the snow blower while Joey and I started shoveling out around the deck. Everything was going according to plan until I heard a crunch-crunch-crunch behind me and saw brown chunks of something shooting out of the snow blower. We all stopped to see what we just destroyed. What we found was the remains of a decorative porcelain porch bunny. Neighbor Dennis let out a bellowing, rapid fire "huh-huh-huh-huh" laugh and blurted out, "Dennis is a wabbit killa!" I busted out laughing, and so he just repeated it again and again. "He's a wabbit killa! A wabbit killa!" (Go ahead and say it out loud.) I don't think he could have done a better Elmer Fudd impression if he was actually trying.

We did a couple more driveways before we made it to our last one where Bob and his wife live. Now Bob is quite an interesting guy. He's a Vietnam vet in his seventies and spent time in France as a translator for doctors. A few days ago, Bob took a spill on his front steps (wearing house slippers on ice is not a good idea) and bruised his back pretty badly. He saw me shoveling by the front door, so he peeked out to talk a bit. He was finely attired in an undershirt and boxers... of course his fly was open. I asked him how he was doing, and he gave me a full account of how he had hurt himself on the front steps last week. Well, as you may or may not know, no story about an injury is complete without showing off the scar or wound received from said event. So Bob starts to turn around and pull up his shirt while trying to hold the screen door open at the same time. He realizes that's not going to work, so he locks the door closer in place as to have free use of both hands. Both hands. That's when I realized what was about to happen. As he goes for his shirt with his left hand and his boxers with his right hand, I think to myself, "Am I really about to get mooned by an old man? Surely not. I'm practically a complete stranger. Surely, he wouldn't do.." And then it happened. I couldn't look away as the 72 year old, wrinkly, white, black, blue, green and purple behind was unveiled in all its glory before my unsuspecting eyes. He held his pose to make sure I got a good look, and all I could do was say, "Oh ya, that's bad". The conversation/exposition died pretty quickly after that, and I got right back to shoveling. Oh the joys of neighbors.

En Route

I'm in Chicago right now slowly making my way to Maine. I first began my journey up north on Tuesday last week, only to have my attempt blocked. I knew the weather was calling for icy roads, but I wanted to try anyways. I made it a good 75 or 80 miles before I started to fishtail as I went over bridges. As I was coming to the TX/OK border, I saw a flashing sign saying that I-35 was closed ahead. So, I turned around after 90 miles and slip-slided my way back to Arlington. Nearly every overpass I went over for the next 15 or 20 miles, there was a car spun out that had hit the wall or went into the grass. I made it back without any mishaps, but it was obvious I would be waiting a couple days before I made another attempt. I woke up early again the next morning on the off chance the roads had cleared up, but all the news people were freaking out and talking to the audience like they were concerned parents. Finally, on Thursday morning, the roads cleared up sufficiently for me to go. I drove 10 hours through Oklahoma, Kansas and Nebraska before coming to my first stop, Council Bluffs, IA. I got to spend the evening with the Smiths who I was staying with that night. I enjoyed some good times playing with the kiddos, eating dinner and then going to downtown Omaha.

The next morning, I headed out around 8 after saying goodbyes and made my way across the entirety of Iowa and into Illinois until I reached my second destination, Chicago. I've enjoyed spending some good quality time with Mark, Katrina and Candice which has included good food, gallons of hot tea, and various excursions into the city. I was planning on leaving tomorrow morning, but it looks like it will be snowing across the U.S. between here and Maine for the next 2 days. So, my plan (for the moment) is to stick around a couple more days and leave for Bouckville, NY early, early Thursday morning. I'll be staying with Anne, my friend (from Alaska) Adam's mom and then drive the final leg to Sanford, ME Friday. I'm finding that driving 2000+ miles in the middle of winter is a little tricky, so I'm being patient and enjoying each opportunity I get for rest, quality time and productivity. I'm itching to begin my next season of life in Maine, but I'm not at all bitter I'm getting to spend time with good friends in the meantime.

I'm starting to get used to starting life practically from scratch over and over again. It's both exciting and tiresome. There's new freedom and discovery to be had, but a lot of patience and self discipline needed at the same time. Thankfully, that is the fruit of God's Spirit in us. I'm continually asking God if this pattern is what I should be expecting for the rest of my life. The answer seems to be 'yes' or at least 'for a while'. I'm okay with that, but with each move, I value the things I leave behind more and more. Still, I find so much freedom and power in letting go of what makes sense to my natural self and obediently walking with God. I am confident in God's transforming presence, knowing I am becoming a strong and loving man. I have only the faintest clue of what my new life will be like in Maine, but I know that surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life. That's all I need to know for now.

I'm a Rock Star

I'm not really into New Year's resolutions, but I have decided to begin a year long project for 2009. As you may or may not know, I'm an aspiring musician. In order to continue growing and being disciplined in pursuit of that, I've decided to write one song per month about whatever is significant (or just interesting) in that month; a musical journal, if you will. This will be good motivation for me to finish at least one song a month and also push me to write about a broader range of subjects. It's nearing the end of January and so far, so good. I don't know if I'll share every month's song with the general public, but I am going to share the song for January with yall. It's about always being on the move and leaving behind people I love. So this one goes out to all my homies (and family). My myspace page is www.myspace.com/danielstinsonmusic. I also realize I am not the best annunciator and my mom couldn't understand me even if I was, so here's the lyrics:


Eastern Standard (January)

The evening air is filled with
The expectation of what this year brings
I know you said you'd better make it on this song
So listen as I sing

I'm so thankful for this time spent
These days have been a much needed relief
This autumn came and left me feeling isolated
I think you would agree

It's always warm in Texas
The winter months can hardly hold it down, I can't be held in place
I must leave in January or so I think


You've let me into your life
I'm sorry I can't stay
It seems I'm always on the run
Maybe you could hold my place
For when I return
I hope this is the case
There always is another town
You know that I can't stay


I've taken it for granted
I see it clear, I have acted selfishly
My friends and my family have always shown
Their love waits there for me

I could be happy in Chicago
I hope that I will make it on my way, I'd have a place to stay
The same goes for Alaska and my home state


You've let me into your life
I'm sorry I can't stay
It seems I'm always on the run
Maybe you could hold my place
For when I return
I hope this is the case
There always is another town
You know that I can't stay


Now I'm headed to the East Coast
My course is set, and I must follow through
But that doesn't mean that I won't
Miss your face, I always think of you
You know that I look forward to
When I can board that plane and come to see you
And if you're ever coming through, I will make room


You've let me into your life
I'm sorry I can't stay
It seems I'm always on the run
Maybe you could hold my place
For when I return
I hope this is the case
There always is another town

I won't you let go just because
I'm in another state
It's always good to hear your voice
And it's always worth the wait
Stay close to your phone
You know I stay up late
Eastern Standard can't keep me from
Staying wide awake

I'm (Going to Be) A Mainiac

So... I moving to Maine. I finally know where I'm going next. I totally thought God was going to tell me what to do next before the end of the bike trip. Obviously, that was not the case. At that point, God lovingly slapped me upside the head and was like, "you haven't finished what I already told you to do!" I felt pretty lame about that and redoubled my efforts to complete my tasks. It was pretty ridiculous of me to think that I could just move right along to the next thing when I wasn't done preparing for it. Sheesh.

A week later, a missionary couple from Maine, the Godins, came down to stay with my parents. They've been working with Pleasant Ridge for several years now. One thing led to another (there was free food involved), and I ended up inviting myself to go hear them share with the missions committee. When they were sharing their struggles and joys, I had one of those moments. I can only call it the Spirit moving. I don't know if this is the way God works in your life, but for me, there are instants when I just know something. I don't necessarily understand it, but I am sure of it. That's what happened. I was like, "Of course I'm moving to Maine. Of course." It was the most obvious thing in the world. That night I didn't understand anything beyond the fact that I was going to move up there to serve the Godins. Everything had clicked in my spirit. My mind has been a little slower in coming around, but I'm slowly starting to see the wisdom and purpose of God (i.e. the last year of my life is making a whole lot more sense).

At this point, I'll hold off saying anything about what I think is going to happen. All I'm completely confident of is that God is moving as always.... and laughing at me, but I don't mind.

Revelations From the Saddle, Part 1: Creativity

As promised, I'm going to share with you some of the interesting things I thought about/realized/were revelated upon me. Part of the awesomeness of the trip was getting into a focused rhythm and having very few distractions. For instance, I did not once get onto a computer. I normally check my email/facebook/myspace about 5 times a day, plus read blogs, news articles and the like. I also am a music monger. At some points in my life, I've listened to music averaging over 10 hours a day. That's when I was an accountant. I didn't bring any music with me whatsoever. All I had was what was in my head or playing at whatever diner we were at.

As a result, my imagination/creativity was going nuts, in a good way. Every night, I had at least 3 or 4 vivid dreams that I remembered in detail when I woke up. It was awesome! I was so intrigued by it that I wrote them down every day. One dream in particular, I felt like God was speaking to me through. That may be another post altogether.

Besides crazy dreams, my musical creativity was piqued. In those 3 weeks, I began writing 4 songs without even having a guitar as an aid. I've been writing songs since my junior year in college, and I usually don't even write 4 songs a year!

I came to the realization that my habit of passively taking in so much stimuli via Internet and music (I don't really watch much TV, but that fits, too), was essentially numbing my brain and stunting my creativity. That's a pretty big deal for me, because I feel like exercising my creativity, through music or other means, is a very real calling on my life and one of the ways that I reflect the image of God. Now that I'm aware of this consequence, you better believe I've cut back on Internet and music. It's been great. Not only have I been about %1000 more productive in songwriting, but when I do listen to music, I notice everything that's going on. I hear all the lyrics, what the drums, bass, and guitars are doing, etc.

If you hadn't picked up on it, I'm pretty excited about this and I'll hopefully have some of my music for y'all to listen to in the not so distant future. If I keep going like this, I'll finish an entire album's worth of songs during this year. Get excited.

Overview of the Bike Trip

Man, I've had a really hard time putting the bike trip into words, especially story form. It's weird, because nothing exciting happened on the trip, in an event sense, yet the trip was amazing and most enjoyable. I'm going to try and tell you more than, "we rode from here to here in this many days and averaged this many miles" without going into every detail of where we slept, what we ate, who I talked to, what I felt, what I dreamed about, etc, because that would be pretty boring after about 3 days (like I said, it wasn't exciting as far as stuff happening). So I'm going to keep it to an overview for this blog and fill you in on important thoughts/dreams/revelations/themes in later blogs. Now that I've sufficiently danced around without actually writing about anything yet, here it goes...

Well, before I really get started, you can see pictures from the trip on my Facebook albums here and here. I pared it down from 350 pictures to 100.

OK. We left from DFW airport on the morning of September 4th. United airlines charged us $120 to fly our bikes! That's just immoral. On the way to Vancouver, we had a planned, 4 hour layover in Chicago, because I realized I could go see my friends, Mark and Katrina, for free! It was good to see them, as always. We and our bikes successfully made it to Canada in working order. After eating massive amounts of continental breakfastses, we assembled our bikes and hit the road the next morning from our hotel.
We had maps made by Adventure Cycling that we mostly followed on the trip. We had some trouble getting on route in Vancouver, especially with the construction and faulty directions from a stop sign holding guy. But, once we made it out of Vancouver it was smooth sailing. We didn't really didn't hit any big cities after that until San Francisco, 2 1/2 states later. It was quickly apparent I had aquired a nice little poison ivy allergic reaction the day before we left. That'll teach me to weed eat in shorts. It was also quickly apparent that my dad is a beast. I already knew this to be true, but it was reinforced after a couple days of biking, and every day henceforth.

The weather for the first few days in Washington was amazing. It was sunny and beautiful, but not too hot. The natives thought it was burning up, but it felt quite pleasant compared to the upper 90's in Texas. On day five, my left knee started hurting a little. We adjusted the left pedal position which seemed to help... for about half a day. My knee would end up being a problem the rest of the trip, but it didn't keep me from enjoying the trip.On day 7, we made it to Oregon and decided to take a day off in Astoria. I think it's safe to say that the Oregon coast trumps the Washington coast. The rocky cliffs and beaches are so beautiful, like this:

We met my friend Dan, in Newport on the 14th. He's a totally rad guy that I know from my time in Alaska who's down in Oregon for seminary. Towards southern Oregon, we got into some chilly/foggy weather. We were disappointed, because we couldn't see the ocean most of the day. On the 18th, we made it to California. Northern California lived up to our expectations. Both of our favorite days of the trip were going through the redwood forrest along the Ave of Giants. There will definitely be an entire blog about this day in the future.

I'll sum it up for now by saying that there are awesome, massive trees and an ease for connecting with God. That day changed my life and the way I see the Creation.

The best day of the trip was followed by the hardest day of the trip. We started around a couple hundred feet above sea level and went up and down until we made it to 2000 ft. above sea level. This was followed by 5 or so miles of racing downhill riding the brakes half the time to keep from flying off the road. It was nuts. We ended the day with 5400 ft. of vertical climbing over 70 miles. So tired. We had a couple 87 mile/day days after that which were just gorgeous.

After 11 days of straight riding, we took a day off in Corte Madera (which means something like "cut wood" in Spanish). On my day off, I realized I was just about out of money. Whoa. The next morning, I talked over with my dad whether I should borrow from him and keep going or rent a car in San Francisco and call it good. After praying about it, we both felt pretty good about stopping a week early, so that's exactly what we did. We had pretty much accomplished what we had set out to do. So we rented a car and drove the 1800 miles back to Arlington straight through the night in 30 hours.

Funny story. When we decided to come back early, we played with the idea of not telling people we were back yet, so that we could be sneaky and stuff. So we told my mom to not tell anyone. She told my brother and sister, not thinking to tell them not to not tell anyone. I mean, it's not like my brother was hanging out with a bunch of my friends in Abilene that next day or my sister was hanging out with some of my friends in Dallas the day after that. Oh ya, no one's going to find out. So ya, a lot of my friends knew I was coming back early before we hit Texas. Good times.

We're Back

It'd be hard to try and sum up what happened in the last few weeks in a single blog entry, so I'm not going to try. I'm just going to write about it as it comes. I still have a lot left to process and figure out how to put into words. So hold your horses, and it'll surely flow. I mostly just wanted to let everyone know that we're back safe and sound. It was a great, life-changing adventure. More to come soon.

Cycling Monk

It is almost here. It's less than 2 days until my dad and I board a plane for Vancouver. As you can see, our heads and faces are now ready for the trip. Like any other time you make a plan for months in advance, it seems so far away until it's right on you. It's only 4 weeks of my life, but it feels much more epic than just another month of being alive. That might seem obvious, because I'm going on an adventure that few people get to experience. But, it's not just that. I can't explain it very well, but I have a feeling that something momentous is going to happen. Now that I think about it, I had a similar feeling before I left for Ecuador. I don't mean to freak you out by saying that. I don't have an expectation of any sort of bodily harm. I guess I could sum it up by saying that I'm expectant and excited about the potential of this trip. Because of the nature of what we're doing, there's going to be so much space and time to listen to, know and move with God. In order to further facilitate that function, I'm planning on doing a fast of sorts for those 4 weeks. Essentially, I'm going to take a break from everything that is not within arms reach. This means I'm doing away with phones, TVs, movies, and internet (and cars, too). I'll be sort of a cycling monk, living simply and fully where I am. In this time, I don't want to miss anything that's going on around me. I want to be completely available to see, hear, do and say. Just to be completely honest with you, I will have my cell phone with me. I'll have to make a call or 2 to hook up with my friend Dan in Oregon. Other than that, it will remain off unless I absolutely need it for an emergency or something. I won't be checking my voice mail or text messages no matter what. I know you're probably disappointed that you won't be able to keep up with my trip via blog, but don't worry. I'm keeping a journal on the trip, and I'll post blogs about my trip when I get back. It'll be like a game show on TV where they tape the whole series in a matter of days and then show them over the next few weeks.

So, yes, I am very excited about my trip and all that will happen in the month of September. You'll hear from me again when I return.

Exhale. Inhale.

I have officially left Abilene. My last few weeks there were odd. First of all, it started when I drove back from the airport, upon returning from Alaska. I think it was the first time I had ever entered Abilene with little feeling of any kind. Countless other trips down I-20 West found me feeling expectant, nervous, tired, happy, nostalgic, anxious, excited, disappointed, restless or content. This time was strangely void of any such emotion. At the moment I realized this, I pondered what it could mean. The only conclusion I could come to was that God was showing me I was completely done with a season in my life. That seemed to square with everything God has been showing me. I expected to coast through my last couple of weeks without incident. I would say goodbye to people, finish my last 2 weeks at Los Arcos and quietly transition towards the ride, all in one big exhale.

All those things did happen. I had friends over for pizza, I diligently completed 2 more weeks as a waiter, my brother and I watched the last episode of a TV series (Babylon 5) we had been working our way through for months, and I packed. In the midst of all those endings, there were unexpected beginnings. I suddenly realized how much I loved the handful of recovering addicts I worked with. While I was gone to Alaska, they hired another white guy to replace me (making him the 3rd white male to EVER work at Los Arcos (me being the 2nd)) and we became friends. On my last day, I realized I really wanted to continue friendships with those people (but not continue working there) and somehow continue to be a part of their healing and growing. My church trickled back from their summer travels, and I was excited to see them. As I heard tales of their summers and the ways God was moving in their lives, I discovered I was sad I wasn't going to get to join them on a daily basis in walking out our faith in the coming months. I also found I had a new appreciation for friends that I've had for years and valued them more now than I had back when I was, perhaps, a little more focused on myself. On top of that, I made new friends and saw potential for great things. And then I did the dishes, removed my house key, took a deep breath and left.

So now I'm in Arlington for a couple weeks, working with my dad and hanging with family and friends before I head up to Canada. My season of preparation and isolation is pretty much over. I feel satisfied that I have been obedient to God's calling for this summer. Consequently, I feel prepared for what's next. Though I don't know what I'm doing once I've trekked across the U.S., I'm at peace and feel perfectly positioned to move with God in that new direction when He gives the word. It's going to be interesting for sure.

My First Century

I finally completed my first 100 mile ride today. Good thing, too, because that's what we're going to be riding pretty much everyday down the west coast, which is in less than 4 weeks! It looks like I'll also be riding the Hotter Than Hell Hundred in 2 weeks up in Wichita Falls with my dad. I can't be any hotter than it was today.

Bachelor Party + Kabobs - Flat Tire = Bear Chase

I'm back from Alaska and trying to get back to my routine. I'm tired now, but my trip was great. I got to see almost everyone I wanted to see. I went all over the place: Anchorage, Girdwood, Seward, Eklutna Lake, Hatcher Pass and everywhere in between. I also got to eat at all my favorite restaurants: Coast Pizza, Jack Sprat, Burger Cache, Moose's Tooth, and Gwenie's. The wedding was fun and the weather, though mostly rainy, was most enjoyable. I could bore you with all the details of my trip, but I'll just tell you a good Alaskan bachelor party tale instead and call it a day.


On a cloudy Thursday night, 6 bachelors (1 of them soon-not-to-be) gathered at the Chugiak house to do what must be done. After fiddling with an assortment of bikes, finally six were found (or made) worthy of riding, and the quest could begin. The grocery store would provide the remainder of our trip's necessities. We had in mind a simple list upon arrival, but as you may know, six men with food on the brain can quickly go astray. Somehow just hot dogs and bagels turned into hot dogs, bagels, 2 kinds of cream cheese, 12 kabobs in 4 varieties, a box of cookies, an apple pie, a summer sausage and some beverages to wash it all down. $100 later, we were again on the road to our final destination: The Eklutna Lake Cabin.

We careened up a mountainous path with tires squealing and engines a-chugging. It was getting towards 7 p.m. when we finally reached the trail head and got our packs on. We mounted our steeds of varying trustworthiness in anticipation of mounds of food cooked over a raging bonfire. It was quickly apparent that Woodsen's front tire would not last the 12 mile journey. The valve was busted and required a little prodding, poking, and fiddling, plus more air every mile or 2. He and I ended up falling far behind the rest of the food-crazed pack... and that's when the bears came... DUN, DUN, DUNNNN!!!!

As we quickly rounded a corner, trying in vain to catch the other guys, what would we behold but 3 bears: A mother and her 2 cubs! If you don't know anything about bears, you don't want to run across a momma bear with her kids. They tend to be a little protective. We quickly squeezed the brakes with force, sliding on the gravel to a complete stop. After whooping and hollering at the bears, they retreated back into the woods, much to our relief. When we could no longer hear anything romping around in the woods, we felt it safe to continue on. Not too much further down the trail, it was time for another tire fix. I would be lying if I were to say that I wasn't thinking about the bears we had just left behind and the raw meat strapped to my back.

Sure enough, after a minute or 2, here came the bears moseying down the trail towards us. We again entered another session of whooping and hollering, this time adding some rock throwing to the mix, but the bears kept coming ever so slowly. I got a tad bit nervous. When it was apparent we weren't scary enough to deter the bears, Woodsen got back to fixing the tire, while I continued putting on a show. They kept coming, and Woodsen started pumping. When the bears were still a good 40 feet away, Woodsen finished and we rode on in haste leaving our new friends behind none too soon for my taste.

We made it safely to the cabin, having to walk the last 4 miles, as the tire finally and completely gave out. Good times were indeed had by all, and mounds of food cooked over a raging (okay, mild-mannered) bonfire were indeed consumed. And then came the snoring... DUN, DUN, DUNNNN!!!!

CanAmeXico

I'm sitting at my parents' house in Arlington, relaxing a bit before I head out to Alaska tonight. I'll be there for the next ten days. I'm pretty excited to see friends I haven't seen in over a year and enjoy the beauty of the Alaskan summer. And it will be in the 40's when I get there. That sounds so wonderful right now. Following that, I'll have 2 more weeks in Abilene before I "visit" my parents for the remaining 3 weeks before the CanAmeXican Ride. After much deliberation, I decided to go ahead and leave Abilene a little sooner than I had anticipated. The major deciding factor was that Chris is moving back into the house August 16th or 17th. So it was either move or try and cram my stuff in with my brother's stuff in his room. I broke the news to my boss at Los Arcos yesterday and I'm breaking the news to the rest of you now. So I'll have plenty of planning time with my dad before we fly out. We just bought our tickets last night for the flight to Vancouver, BC on September 4th. We'll wait to buy our return tickets from San Diego, CA until we're halfway through the ride. We're estimating it'll take us about a month. So I'll be all over the place in the next couple months. Beginning October 1st, I have no idea what I'm doing with my life. Any suggestions?

A Frustrating Afternoon

I set out to ride 55 miles miles yesterday. A few miles down the road, I decided I would ride 40. Then I decided to ride 60. Then somewhere along the way I became very confused and decided to ride 90. To top things off I decided I would even stretch for a few more miles to hit an even 100. At 45 miles, I got a flat and it wasn't fixable. So I threw on my spare. At mile 72, I got another flat. I patched it, but it was already flat again by the time I got to my rest stop at mile 75. I decided that the hole was more than I could conquer, despite still feeling quite feisty, and I was out of spares. I threw in the towel and went for my phone to call for a ride... only discover there was no phone to be found. I had used it back in Cross Plains at mile 45 of the trip and apparently left it sitting on the table at Subway. Lame. A guy offered to let me borrow his phone and then offered me a ride back to Abilene. I accepted. It turned out that he's the dad of one of my friends from ACU, Kendra. Weird. I called the Subway to see if they had found it, and they hadn't. I guess someone jacked it. The person who stole it had to figure out that it would be useless to them after about 2 days when the phone died. That's just being plain inconsiderate. So, I'm back to my old phone minus all of my phone numbers. Unless you give me your number again, don't be offended if I don't call you ever again. So ya, yesterday was a frustrating day.

In other news, I started learning how to play the drums a couple days ago. My friend Drew is being kind enough to teach me and let me use his set. The first song I'm learning is "Brain Stew" by Green Day. If it weren't for that bass pedal, the song would be easy. Drums are harder to play than you would think.

Miles and Miles of Bubble Wrap

Pop.
Pop pop.
Pop POP pop pop POP pop.
Pop.


I started to get a little worried and adjusted the Gatorade bottle.

POP POP POP pop pop pop.
pop. pop. POP POp. PoP. POP. POP POP POP POP.
Pop pop pop POP. Pop.

This was not normal. 25 miles into my 60 mile ride, I was sure my tires were about to disintegrate mid pedal. I stopped and inspected my bike. Everything seemed to be in working order. I hopped back on.

Pop. POP pop pop POPOPOPPOPOOPOPOPPOPPOPOPPOPOPP.

What the?!?!

I stopped again and called my dad thinking he would surely know. He did. Apparently, when the asphalt gets hot enough, it gets covered in tiny little air bubbles. Weird. Assured that this paved rapid-fire-machine-gun popping was normal, I continued on my way enjoying the thought of riding over miles of bubble wrap.

Pop. pop pop pop pop POP Pop poP PoP pOp POP pop pop pop. POP.

Alaska, Here I Come!

I just bought my plane tickets for my little vacation to Alaska. My friends, John and Becca, are getting married, so I'm going up for the wedding and to hang out with friends. I'll be there July 21-31. I'm pretty dang excited. Get me out of this Texas heat!

FINALLY (Four Useful Words)

Finally, it has happened. The numerous phone calls, hours on hold, serenades by awful elevator music, transfers from answerless claims representative to answerless claims representative, stacks of mail, monthly payments, and endless frustrations have finally come to an end. The insurance company finally reimbursed us for the Ecuadorian medical expenses from nearly a year ago. I've been waiting for that money to pay off the remaining bills from in the U.S. You don't know how happy I was to be able to call up people I still owed money to and finally pay them off. I am so relieved. This whole time we were only missing four seemingly innocuous words said in just the right order: Texas Department of Insurance. As soon as they heard those four wonderful words, the insurance company suddenly knew exactly which claim we were talking about, knew what currency is used in Ecuador (US dollars), could translate the claim from Spanish to English, and even send a check that same week. Hmmm... very curious. Nothing like a little motivation to promote productivity! Don't get me wrong. I'm so thankful I had insurance at the time, but equally, if not more, thankful I won't have to talk to them again (well, hopefully not any time soon). So, if you're ever getting the run-around from an insurance company, remember these four feared and useful words: Texas Department of Insurance.


Note: if you live in another state, you may need to call your own state's board of insurance.

I Found the Hills

I began by checking the weather. Threat of thunderstorms in the afternoon. Wind from the south. Next, Google maps. No, not that one. Not that way. Wait. It could be. Maybe. Diversion here, change there. Aaaand yes... it's perfect. I checked the time. Ten thirty. Oh no, that means... I quickly did the calculations, accounting for distance, wind, stops and potential threats. That's what I thought: 5:30. I pulled out the phone and begrudgingly pressed the correct keys finishing with "save". I did a double take. Yes, 5:30 a.m. as in "the morning".

I tried to get out a little energy by playing guitar for a bit. No luck. I got into bed fully awake, praying I would somehow fall instantly to sleep and become wide awake again at 5:30 a.m. I put on The Working Title's About Face and popped in the headphones. As the final song on the album ended, I was thinking there was no way. I resisted the urge to change my alarm right then and there.

I heard this annoying buzzing and organs softly beginning to play. It was "Marching Bands of Manhattan" playing on my phone alarm. How and why? I peaked through a crack in the blinds. The sky was just starting to show some color. Ya right! Not a chance! Changed the alarm to 7:30. I closed by eyes expecting to be hearing Death Cab playing once again my next conscious moment. Nope. Just lied there. It seems I had received the second part of my prayer. I was thrilled (read sarcastically).

The oatmeal with crunchy peanut butter and honey mixed in was tasty as usual. Can't go wrong. The water had that same old off flavor you come to expect in Abilene. I filled my CamelBak with the same water after breakfast and donned my cycling gear, yes, even the spandex shorts. They're a necessary evil. As I put on and tightened my recently acquired Keen cycling sandals, I pondered upon the tan line conglomeration that was beginning to come in from the combination of my Keens, Chacos, flipflops and ankle socks. "Cool." Yes, deep thoughts at 6:30 a.m. Checked the tires, made sure all necessary tools and spare parts were in their respective homes, tucked some snacks, money, a hand-drawn map and cell phone into my pack and headed out the door.

I was about to ride 80 miles.

Despite it being only 75, the humidity forced a sweat to break quickly. Oh, Texas. My first destination was Oplin, TX. I passed Shotwell, Nelson Park, The Abilene Zoo and the Abilene Regional Airport and headed south on highway 36.

Good Idea: Keeping nasal passages clear and free during aerobic outings for optimal intake of oxygen.
Bad Idea: Farmer's blow at 15 mph against a 25 mph head wind.

There was little in sight besides a handful of cemeteries, cows and hills. So many hills. I rolled slowly into Oplin looking for my first rest stop: the Jot-Um Down store. I can only imagine it was named this many years ago when people were on the honor system and would just jot-um down and pay later. Who knows? After passing by the school gym turned "The Grand Ole Oplin", I spotted it on the right. I knew I was about to have a cultural experience. I was most definitely a house at one point. It looked dark inside, but the sign said 'open', and it didn't seem a place like this would overlook such a detail. I pulled the screen door finding no resistance. It took a minute for my eyes and ears to adjust to the darkness and blaring TV. I realized there was someone sitting behind a desk. The dim light from the window revealed an elderly woman in her 80's dressed in a night gown. I was relieved to see she was also wearing shorts. I gave her the cheeriest 'hello' I could muster and she responded with, "The sodie-pops are over there", as she pointed to the fridge in the corner. I took her cue and walked that direction. I found a Gatorade and went in search of a snack. The aged owner was not content to let me look on my own. She started telling me where the apple pies, peanuts, chips, etc. were and pointed as if I could actually see and understand what she was telling me. I politely nodded and made agreeable noises as I dodged and weaved through boxes and shelves occupying the 10x10 food area. As I perused the selection, I caught a sound byte from the TV saying, "I know he goes to church, but does he gooo to church?". Not sure what that was all about. It was something from the 60's I think.

I made my decision and gave her the $3.40 she asked for. She then began asking me about where I was riding from/to, if I was in school, where I worked and why I was riding so far, etc. She raised her eyebrows, shook her head and tilted back in her chair all flabbergasted when I answered her final question. I never get tired of that response from people. She then advised me that I should go back up 604 to 36 and take that east to 283 instead of going down 2926 so that I could go around all them big hills. I assured her I needed the practice, thinking she was exaggerating as I assume all near senile people do, and she agreed it would be hilly in the Northwest. After finishing my drink and snack, I asked to use her bathroom. She gave me weird instructions that went something like, "Go out back. Go ta yer left. Pull the hook out and close the curt'un. Make sure you stay until the toilet stops runnin." Confused, I nodded as if I understood exactly what she meant and went through the back screen door hoping I could make sense of it later. Did I mention there was no AC?

I spotted a metal flat-roofed storage building. It indeed had a hook running through 2 holes keeping it shut. I pulled it out, peaking in to make sure it was the bathroom. I ducked in through the door and tried to close the door behind me. Wasn't gonna happen. Guess that's what the curtain's for. I did what I had come there to do, made sure the toilet stopped and then exited, finding out when the store's normally open on my way out. Mon.-Sat. 6 am-5 pm. Back to riding.

Ya, about those hills... She was right. Wow, she was right.

They were the kind of hills where you brake on the way down and hit 35 mph against the wind and then struggle to keep a 5 mph pace on the way up. As I undulated between hanging on to my handlebars for dear life and chugging and puffing, I thought that maybe the elderly woman was more with it than I had given her credit. As I just barely made it up the 4th or 5th hill (I had lost count), I conceded that she was in fact more sensible than I was. I was only 35 miles into the ride and already my muscles were burning. This wasn't looking good.

Thankfully, that was the last of the monstrous hills for awhile, and I reaped the benefit of my labor as I coasted for most of the next 7 or 8 miles. I made it to Baird, now 60 miles into my ride, without a hitch. I decided to go ahead 6 more miles to Clyde before I stopped, because there's a gas station with a Subway in it that I like to stop at. I saw I was approaching another big uphill, but it didn't seem near as steep or tall as I had remembered. Wonder why?

I was elated as I pulled into the gas station in Clyde. I needed some food, Powerade and at least 30 minutes rest before I made the final push back to Abilene. As usual, the gas station attendant was curious about my riding, and when she realized how far I was riding, exclaimed, "Are you training for that Ter da Fraaance?" Man, I love small town folk.

As I rode the final 14 miles, I got sprinkled on a bit, but there was nothing of the thunderstorms they were predicting. I made my way into Abilene and down EN 10th, then heard a repetitive "ch" sound coming from one of my wheels. I thought it was something caught in my spokes rubbing against the frame as it made each rotation. No, it was a flat. A half mile from my house, I got a flat. Not letting a little thing like that get me down, I made the tired and triumphant walk back to my house as I my bike rolled along beside me. I was just thankful it hadn't happened 50 miles ago. Done and done.

...and then I went and played (and won) 3 games of racquetball.

THE END

Inbetween

Just as I was beginning to feel a little at home in Abilene, everything got all turned around again. Many of the people I've grown closest to here have recently departed (or are about to depart) for other cities, jobs and lives. This includes college friends, coworkers, my church and new friends. It's just starting to hit me. I can now count on one hand the people I have more than a skin-deep relationship with here in Abilene. Though I'm here until the end of August (as far as I know), I already feel like I'm between here and the next place. That disconnected feeling makes it hard to find reason to invest and construct. The things I have to do over the next few months seem to be already pulling me away. It's going to be a trying summer.

Back to Grayskull

"The prodigal son returns!" I exclaimed, as I once again entered the doors of the mighty Grayskull as one of its inhabitants. Josh just sat there looking all confused and said, "What?" I said, "Nevermind."

And that's how it all began again...

She Took the Bait

They caught her. My boss set a trap and she totally fell into it. It was the girl I had accused. I feel pretty relieved and a little vindicated, but at the same time, more sad than anything else. I don't think I'm supposed to know all of what's going on, so I don't feel I can share it on my blog. All I'll say is that this girl is caught up in bad stuff and it's taking over and ruining her life. I've felt such a heavy burden over the last few days to pray for her. I don't know that I'll ever see her again, but I really wish I could help her. It hurts to see the enemy bringing death to those around me and feel helpless to stop it. I pray that we, as God's holy ones, will be equipped with righteous weapons to face and defeat the enemy. So be it.