I woke up not knowing if I would leave today, because I still had to pack everything up. I was fine all through breakfast (leftover special omelettes courtesy of Jesse), and got packed up by 11:30. We decided to go. As soon as I felt the weight of my bike for the first time, my stomach started tying itself I knots. This is HEAVY. It’s unwieldy. It does not fit nicely around corners and through doors. How am I going to ride this thing?
We got down to the parking lot and I took it for a spin. Super wobbly. The handlebars shook. I shook. I immediately stumbled off and googled shaking handlebars on a loaded bike. Verdict: sometimes that happens. Maybe try moving weight out of the front panniers. Or maybe it’ll just happen sometimes. Not helpful Google.
In the end we leave anyway, and the handlebars stop shaking (I was going too slow), and I don’t throw up, and we ride. We ride out of town to the north and west along the Columbia on a bike path, skies overcast and a little breeze, bound for Cascade Locks forty-two miles away. This is nice. This is okay.
I’m slow. Rose, with her lone backpack and daily bike commute, is faster. I feel like I’m peddling as fast as usual but moving slower. It gets hotter. It gets hillier. We cover only 33 miles in 4.5 hours, climbing slowly up to a crest at Vista House and barreling/braking down on the other side. (Bonus: Vista House has marble bathrooms.) We finally get to Multnomah Falls, one of the prettiest sites on the Columbia. I don’t care. I’m hot and tired and I haven’t been drinking enough. My stomach churns, and I need to lie down.
Jesse is here to pick up Rose, and I’ve long since given up hope of reaching Cascade Locks today. Ainsworth State Park is only three miles away; surely I can make three miles? I stand. Nope. Not going anywhere with this body. Thankfully, Jesse brought the bike rack and it fits both bikes. They load up the car, while I lie on the ground trying to focus on breathing. We drive to the campground, circling to find an open spot. We find a hiker/biker spot, kept open for people like me. Jesse and Rose unload my stuff, I throw up next to a camper, and we set up the tent. This is just how I imagined my first night!
I begin to feel better, and Rose and Jesse take off for the hour drive back to Portland. I can tell Rose is worried, but I’m too out of it to be very reassuring. At least camping is familiar. I set up my mat and sleeping bag, shower, and brush my teeth in the bathroom, listening to families finish up their dinners. I drink a few more swigs of water for good measure. I sleep.
I rolled into Hood River two days later feeling slightly more human, but still out of sorts. I think my body is confused about what it is we’re doing together, and my anxiety-ridden brain is not helping.
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