August 8-9 - Monsoon!

[Adele]

Well folks, it's a pouring wet Portland kind of afternoon here in beautiful Telluride. Brock and I blame it on the arrival of the Portland band Blind Pilot, who are playing tonight at the Opera House. They bring the curse of the wet. (Granted, Colorado needs rain, but selfishly, I don't!)

Brock and I have taken shelter in a bakery where we can sit for an indefinite amount of time without hassle. Like Powells---I feel so at home! Our tent is out there doing what tents do, that is getting really soggy in the monsoon. And here in Colorado they actually do call rains this time of year "monsoons."

We'd planned to live it up in Telluride today in any case and temporarily divorce ourselves from our bikes. Give them some therapeutic space. So really, being here in town is the best case scenario considering the weather.

Since there's not a whole lot to fill you in on regarding adventurous cycling play-by-play details, I thought I'd let you in on some of the behind-the-scenes elements of cycle touring. Namely, how Adele finds her motivation.

This may be a little TMI, so stop reading here if you just wanted the newsreel. But again, feel free to indulge me as there's little else to do this afternoon but write something!

Motivation #1: There are 2 reasons I've gotten this far, and I'm pedaling on both of them.

No, not my shoes. My legs. As I crank up 12,000 ft. mountain passes and pain slowly invades my body, my lungs can't seem to find oxygen, and sweat makes me feel like a hot mess, I glance down at my legs.

"Ah, there you are. Lookin' good," I tell them. "Tan, chiseled, strong...don't worry, I'll keep pedaling out here in the sun so you'll never be pasty and flabby again."

I know this sounds terribly narcissistic, but I see it as healthy narcissism. Allow me to explain:

It wasn't always this way. As a pre-adolescent, I watched in dismay as my former slender self was replaced with something...stockier. At family gatherings I would look around and envy the waifish figures of my siblings and extended relatives. The females on my mother's side are by and large slender types (albeit rather flat chested), who look as if they might drift away like dandelion fluff in the slightest breeze. My dad's side of the family tends to be slightly more curvy and built like soccer players.

The genetic die was cast and I ended up with the upper body of the Williams (mom's side) and the lower body of the Galebachs (dad).

I remember one year I was with my family at some sort family retreat center with a bunch of other folks. We were playing a group game when an awkward youth (to be fair, I suspect he had some sort of subtle mental condition) actually pinched my calf and exclaimed "Wow! That's HUGE!"

You couldn't say anything more effective to ruin a 13 year old girl's body image. Although I picked up the shattered pieces of my pride and moved on, this comment has lurked in my subconscious for years.

But now, cycling gives me reason to be proud of those shapely Galebach calf muscles. I love them because they are dang strong and they get me places. I've come to grips (99% of the time) that I'll never look like a wispy willow wand.


Motivation #2: Every day is an eating competition against myself.

I love to eat. If it were physically possible, I would be chewing something every second of the day, savoring the flavor and texture of each new occupier of my palate (with the exception of mushrooms).

To recount another anecdote from my past: I've always loved food. I taught myself to bake at the age of 6, and from then on I could be found every afternoon in the kitchen mixing up cookies, bread, pies, cakes, and even weird recipes that I made up myself.

Again, when puberty hit, things changed and suddenly I couldn't eat half the bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough and not expect unflattering results.

I remember one afternoon when I was 12, my mom gently pulled me aside and, trying to be tactful, suggested that I pick less at whatever I was baking for dessert that evening.

I tried to do this, but the siren song of baked goods continued to tempt me, and I hadn't yet figured out how to balance the food intake/exercise thing.

Fast-forward to now.

On some days of our bike tour, I put away as much food as Brock does Take yesterday, for instance. For breakfast, I consumed 3 bagels loaded with cream cheese and peach slices. For lunch, I devoured a plate of falafel bigger than my face, as well as a side of fries. And I still had room for 2 burritos by dinner time. Brock pulled ahead at the finish line by consuming 3 burritos.

As any touring cyclist knows, the real glory of the tour lies in the gift of being capable of putting away mountains of food while still slimming down.

I'll have to cut back once we return home in less than a week. It's going to be hard. But for now, I'm enjoying every guilt-free bite of intensely caloric food that I eat.

There you have it. A few of my top motivators. Who doesn't want to be in shape and eat without limits? Go on a bike tour.