New photos throughout the diary!
Part 1
August 26 - 31

See also:

• Janelle's Story (about her kidney transplant experiences)
• the "Five Points of Life" ride web site

Day 1: Saturday, August 26, 2000

We spend the day in Maine meeting each other and preparing for the ride.

Events:

*Blood and bone marrow drive in Bangor, Maine: we were filmed as we walked into the building, then met and mingled with donors and Red Cross staff. Undoubtedly this nail-biting action footage will be shown again and again by local stations..

*Official bike-building of the team's bikes by Jim, our diligent, shy, reserved bike mechanic, with a seething passion for mountain bike stunt riding. He brought along his mountain bike, equipped with pedals that look like meat tenderizing hammers. The bikes are kept and repaired in a large trailer that is supposed to follow the cyclists, "sweeping" the back for riders with problems like flat tires and busted knees. The trailer is driven by Jim or the other assistant, a 22 year old blood bank technician named JD, and is called "Big Belly" over the walkie talkies between support vehicle drivers. *On-camera Interview with press team from Johnson & Johnson's Ortho Clinical Diagnostics, one of the principal sponsors of the ride *Opening Ceremonies.

[click to enlarge] Opening Ceremonies

*Lobster Bake in Bar Harbor, Maine. Statistics: Miles ridden: 0 Calories burned while riding: 0 Calories consumed: around 3,000 Percent of those calories that came from the lobster bake: 75 Number of flat tires: 0 Number of people I met for the first time: 37 Stories heard: Bev: When we visited the American Red Cross blood and bone marrow drive, I met a wonderful woman named Bev who had driven 100 miles from her home on a Saturday to donate blood and get on the bone marrow registry. She had a very giving heart and just felt like this was something she had to do. She also volunteers giving hospice care to people who are ill and dying. I thought this sounded like about the most depressing activity one could possibly engage in, but she explained to me how it is actually very rewarding work; she helps patients die with dignity, and they greatly appreciate her help. I thought about hospice work in a new and different way.

Janelle (seated, with bib) and teammate Cheryl Charles (foreground) at the Bar harbor lobster bake.

Lessons learned:

1. Jim the bike mechanic is one of the most important people on this trip. He likes microbrewed beer.
2. Pick your battles. Bike manufacturer GT provided our team bikes for the ride. My bike was shipped out to me in San Francisco so I could train on it before the ride, but the pedals were missing when it arrived. I borrowed some from Start To Finish, my helpful bike shop, for the time I was in San Francisco. I asked the team organizer to be sure and have some pedals delivered to Maine. Sure enough, there were no pedals waiting for me in Maine. However, the bike shop in SF accidentally left their own loaner pedals on the bike when they packed it up for me. I complained to Ed Hoovler, a team member from Gainesville, Florida, that I never got my GT pedals. He asked me,

   "Do you have some pedals?"

   "Yes, the pedals I borrowed from the SF bike shop, that I was supposed to return to them."

   "Yeah, but do you HAVE pedals?"

   "Yes."

   "So you're happy, right?"

   "Well, yes, Ed, I guess so."

   "You have a working kidney, right?"

   "Oh, yeah, that's right."

   "So you're happy."

   "You're right, Ed. I am happy."

   In other words, there are going to be glitches on the bike trip. If you generally have the basic things you need, you're all set. Plus, this ride is all about celebrating life, donation and organ transplantation. As Lance Armstrong noted in the title of his new book, It's Not About the Bike. (Except when it's not rideable, in which case, see Lesson 1.)

3. It's not only acceptable, but actually desirable, to plagiarize from a powerful speech if its author tells you to go right ahead. At the Opening Ceremonies, John Dean of the Coalition on Donation gave such a wonderful speech that I asked if I could use parts of it myself during speaking engagements on this ride. He handed me his notes.

   Here's the relevant part of the speech:

   Even today, transplantation is a miracle of modern medicine. And yet, it relies on the generosity of organ and tissue donors and their families to make it happen. It begins with a single word. It's a short word. A little word. Only three letters long. But when you say it, it can change the world. People on the brink of death can get out of their hospital beds and return to their homes. Children who have known only pain and isolation can run outdoors and play. The blind are able to see and the hopeless find hope. By saying one little word, life can spring from death, sorrow can turn to joy and a terrible loss becomes the ultimate gift.

   Yes, there are times when one word can change the world. And when it comes to organ and tissue donation, that one word is "yes." According to the United Network for Organ Sharing, the nonprofit organization that matches organs and manages the nation's organ transplant waitlist, more than 20,000 organ transplants were performed in 1999. Unfortunately, there are more than 71,000 people currently on the organ transplant waitlist. The demand for lifesaving organs continues to outpace the number of donors. For every person who receives an organ transplant, two more people are added to the waiting list. Every 16 minutes a new name is added to the waiting list. And sadly, every day an average of 16 people on the waiting list die because the organ they need does not become available in time to save them.

   The good news is that these deaths are preventable. It doesn't take an act of Congress, or magic. It takes regular folks like you and me making the decision to become organ donors and sharing that decision with our families.

   More of us simply have to say "yes." "Yes" - a little word that can change the world. Becoming a donor is simple. Once you decide to become a donor, just let your family know. That's all you really have to do to be sure your wishes will be honored. Telling your family isn't that difficult. And it isn't a morbid subject. When you discuss organ donation with your family, you aren't talking about death. You're talking about life. Organ donation is not about death and dying. Organ donation is about LIFE.

   Transplantation is a miracle. But not because it is an astounding technological advancement; not because it sweeps dying patients away from the brink of death and back to the living; and not because thousands benefit from transplants each year. The miracle is organ donors and their families. The miracle occurs in a simple word: "yes." In a dark moment at the news of a loved one's death, a grieving family is asked about organ donation and they say "Yes." These generous people are able to see past their own pain and throw a lifeline out to others who would otherwise die. That is the miracle.

   We gather here today to offer words of encouragement to this dedicated team of riders who are about to embark on a journey that will change the lives of many Americans. Through their efforts and the efforts of support personnel along the way, many thousands of Americans will learn of the need to become an organ and tissue donor. During the next 7 weeks they will bring the message of the increased need for all types of donation to communities from Maine to Florida, encouraging others to say that one little word: "Yes." For that, we all owe them an enormous thank you.

Sunday, August 27: The First Day of Riding

After much fanfare and photography, including live coverage of the event by Johnson & Johnson's press crew, we pumped up our tires, got on our bikes and coasted the 4 miles down the mountain to begin the Atlantic Coast tour.

Kidney transplant protection:

I put spf 45 sunscreen on my arms, legs and neck, and spf 30 on my face. I knew one of the hardest things about the trip would be preventing sun exposure. I brought a little bottle of spf 30 suncreen in the pouch on my bike to reapply it whenever needed.

I took my prednisone at 4:30 am with breakfast, and brought my prograf in a little baggie on my bike to take on an empty stomach later. Little did I realize that I would be eating about every 30 minutes.

I wore a Camelbak (a little backpack with 70 ounce bladder inside and a tube leading to a mouthpiece that dangles at my shoulder) filled with ice water and brought a large water bottle on the bike.

Statistics:

Miles ridden: 75
Average speed per hour: 14.4
Calories burned while riding: 2100
Calories consumed while riding, in the form of power bars and gels, rice krispie treats, dried fruit, peanut butter sandwiches, Gatorade, granola bars, fig newtons and juice: about 1800
Number of flat tires among the team: 3
Number of riders who got them: 1, Frank Loskota, the heart transplant recipient on the team Number of riders who got locked out of their rooms at 4:30 a.m. wearing nothing but a towel: 1
Number of riders who had to get shoved through a window to get into their locked rooms wearing nothing but a towel: 1, Marsha Lewsley, team member from San Diego whose father died of leukemia when he was 44 years old
Minutes before all team members knew about the locked door/shower incident: 18

Event: blood drive in Belfast, Maine

What happened the rest of the day: I can't recall. I'm too tired to remember. I only know that it wasn't too hard to do the bike riding, and I kept up with the rest of the group just fine. I didn't learn how to read the maps for the day, but it didn't matter because the support vehicles were always just ahead of us at every intersection, showing us where to turn.

Monday, August 28

Good news of the day:

1. Jim the mechanic stopped out of his senior year of college to serve as the mechanic for this trip. His major has to do with videography. He is willing to take over my digital camcorder and be the videographer for the trip. He might even edit the tape back at school for some credit.
2. We were each allocated a cubby hole in the bike trailer to leave some stuff. Packing and lugging all my belongings just became much easier. This crazy disorganized existence with no free time may get better soon.

Bad news of the day:

1. The motel where we stayed last night had only rotary dial phones (ask your parents what that means). There was no way to upload my daily reports from the past two days.
2. The BOQ where we are staying tonight has no phone access without the secret password, which we were not provided. Still no way to upload reports.
3. Despite my religious application of sunscreen, I still got sunburned. In addition to the unattractive tan lines, this is worrisome because I know sun exposure does not go well with my immunosuppressive drugs. I am concerned about increasing my risk of skin cancer. I resolve to try zinc oxide on my nose and find a really good visor to wear under my bike helmet.

6:00 am: breakfast at the restaurant down the street from the Colonial Gables Inn.

7:00 am: fix bikes and depart from Belfast, Maine

8:30 am: arrive at the home of Maine state House member Susan George, line up to use her bathroom.

 

9:00 am: escorted by Rep. George to the Camden Town Hall for photo op and interview by local newspaper 9:45 am: ride on towards lunch stop, constantly ambushed by cameraman from K2BH.com, an online news station, with his faithful driver enabling him to film us while hanging from back of his vehicle. We consider this our first time to be chased by the paparazzi, and deal with it gracefully based on what we learned from Lady Di.

[click to enlarge] The Team in Camden, Maine

1:45 pm: we arrive at the designated restaurant for lunch: Sheepscot River Inn. We all eat way too much lunch. I feel nauseated as we head out on the next 20 miles to Brunswick. We are escorted by local police most of the way.

4:00 pm: we arrive at the Saturn dealership in Brunswick, which is hosting a blood and bone marrow ride in conjunction with the Red Cross. The Saturn and Red Cross employees and volunteers are waiting outside the doors when we pull up on our bikes, clapping and cheering for us. We again feel quite famous. We mingle with the donors and volunteers, and someone sneaks us some fresh Maine blueberries back in the break room.

6:00 pm: we head to dinner at an Inn built in the 1700s. The dinner is hosted by Saturn. They tell us about National Donor Day - a day a week before Valentine's Day every year, when Saturn dealerships nationwide clear the cars out of their showroom floors and devote the space to blood donation and organ donation awareness raising.

8:45 pm: we have our nightly briefing (when we learn we need to head out on our bikes at 7 am the next day) and get keys to our rooms in the officers' quarters at the local Naval Station.

Antics and shenanigans:

I fall down go boom. Jim the bike mechanic (I feel confident I will learn his last name in the next 47 days) and JD the helper decided to take the bike trailer ahead and set up a ride-through banana break. As we topped the hill, we saw them standing on the shoulder of the road next to the parked trailer, holding out bananas for us to grab as we rode by. I was at the front for the moment, and grabbed the peeled banana JD was holding out for me. Not too surprisingly in hindsight, it exploded in my hand. Jim was standing a few yards further up, holding out half an unpeeled banana. I started to grab it, but realized I still lacked the skill to peel a banana while riding, so swerved away, then slowed to a stop to watch the rest of the group try the grab. Meanwhile, however, Nancy Davis, my team mate from Anchorage, Alaska, was close behind me and trying to get the banana Jim was holding out. He was running (facing backwards) to keep up with Nancy when he backed smack into me. I went down in a heap with him. By this time my roommate Cheryl Charles, team member from Inverness, Florida, was too close to the pile to avoid it, so she fell on top of us. Total damage: skinned knee, skinned elbow, 30 minutes of wasted time for the whole team while I was iced and iodined, and no banana. A former 5 Points of Life team member from the 1998 ride came to Maine with his young daughter to cheer us on. He's been following us in a minivan ever since, cheering us on every few miles. Today he dangled a chocolate bar from a fishing pole as he drove ahead of us. Later he stopped by the side of the road and squirted us with water as we rode by. Apparently we can expect some more elaborate practical jokes from past riders and others throughout the trip.

[click to enlarge] Aftermath of the "banana incident" during the first days of the ride, as described at left.

Statistics:

Miles ridden: 78
Number of flat tires: 0
Spills: just me (taking down Jim and Cheryl in my path)

I'm still feeling pretty good for having ridden so far. I think all the training in the Marin Headlands, with lots of hills and heavy headwinds and crosswinds, has really helped me. The weather is perfect for riding here, with almost no wind and mild temperatures in the 70s. I know I should be more sore by now, but I'm thankful that I'm not. I am still right in the middle of the pack in terms of biking ability. Everyone is really nice, and we're all helping each other out and being very polite. Wonder how long that will last. Again, no free time, and I'm worried about not getting enough sleep. We have to get up early again to be on the road by 7 am. Argh. That's still 4 am for me on California time - a fact I'm finding hard to let go of. But I feel happy to be alive, with a working kidney, and VERY happy to be on this bike ride.

Tuesday, August 29: Brunswick to Kennebunk, Maine

We started in Brunswick, Maine, bright and early as usual - a little dazed, well fed and sunscreened, but unsure if we should be riding our bikes again so soon after the long day yesterday. It was a beautiful, crisp, cool, clear day. We took a back country route, sparsely populated and minimally trafficked (as usual), with beautiful houses and gardens spread out along the sides. The road was freshly paved, dark asphalt - so smooth that the miles melted under our wheels. The rolling hills are perfect for speeding down in the highest gear, gathering almost enough speed to make it up the hill ahead without shifting to an easier gear. Nancy Davis and I were riding together for much of the morning, giving rebel whoops as we jammed down the hills. I hit top speeds of over 35 miles per hour (but Mom, I was still VERY careful). I was surprised at how good and energized I felt.

Unfortunately, Frank Loskota, the heart transplant recipient team member, is not doing as well as I. He has been having some trouble adjusting to the rigors of the ride. The side effects of his anti-rejection medications, bike gears on hills, leg cramps, dehydration and a slew of bad luck flat tires have brought him down a bit, and he has had to spend a fair amount of time riding in the support vehicle. I feel badly for him, but don't quite know how to help. The important thing is that his health (and mine, and everyone's) comes first, and each team member will have to deal with his or her personal limitations. I'm sure I will log time in the support vehicle at some point too. It's nice to know it's there.

On the way to our final destination, Kennebunk, Maine, we stopped to attend a blood and bone marrow drive at the American Red Cross in Portland. The local TV station wanted to interview a couple of riders. It was officially Nancy Davis's day to be the team spokesperson, so she was on the hook for sure. I volunteered to be the second interviewee. The reporter did Nancy's interview in the Red Cross parking lot. She told about her son's death and showed pictures of him from a photo album.

When it was my turn to be interviewed, I jokingly suggested that we do the interview with me on the bike. The reporter liked the idea, and had the entire team get on our bikes and ride around a harbor, with camera crew hanging from the back tailgate in front of us. I got to put on a microphone attached to a belt battery and explain to the camera why I'm doing the ride (while trying not to breathe too hard and ruin the sound). Then we staged a few more shots of the team riding around the reporter as he gave an introduction to the ride, and me saying in one sentence the purpose of the ride.

That night, after a blood donation event at a church in Kennebunk, our dinner was sponsored by a home for assisted living. They had prepared for us by loading hot pasta and tomato sauce and some green beans and spinach into hot serving trays in the dining room. Each of us loaded a plate with as much as we wanted, figuring there would be more available, as there always has been on this trip. We had emptied the serving trays before all of us had even passed through the line. And the ones who were in the front of the line finished their first helpings and went back for seconds even before we'd all been through once. It was an endless circle of consumption, and we were not even ashamed - it has simply become a way of life for us. The servers were not aware of our new way of life, however. I think they are used to assisted living people who eat far less than we do. They looked concerned and dashed back to the kitchen to rustle up some more pasta.

In addition to dealing with the rigorous task of feeding us, the assisted living center was kind enough to set up a VCR and show us a tape the nightly news from that evening. Our film shoot in Portland had made it on TV. It only lasted about 5 seconds, although we had spent close to an hour being filmed. The footage did include my sound bite about what our message is. If you don't know by now, the answer is this: every person in this country can give the gift of life. Either you can donate blood and get on the bone marrow donor registry now, or you can decide to be an organ donor should you ever die prematurely, and share that decision with your family.

Lesson learned about the press: If you want to make it on TV or be quoted in a newspaper, speak in sound bites.

Wednesday, August 30

This was a long day - it was supposed to be 86 miles of riding, with police escorts to an event hosted by the local hospital in Nashua, New Hampshire, where the head of the hospital, Tom Sommers, whose wife Marsha died because a bone marrow donor could not be found in time, and a local politician would speak.

We were to ride along the beach in Maine for part of the way, cross the Portsmouth Bridge into New Hampshire, and ride on to Nashua. The "turn sheet," or directions for where to turn after how many miles of riding to get to the final destination, was 3 pages long - our most complicated set of directions yet. Cate Boyett, our fearless leader and ride coordinator, advised us at our nightly meeting the night before that there were some "tricky" intersections where it might not be entirely clear where to turn. She said she and the other ride coordinator, Marsha Belgrade (have you noticed there are multiple Marshas on the trip yet?), would go ahead in one of the support vans and mark these vague intersections with fluorescent orange spray paint on the street.

We started riding, and soon realized some of the directions were impossible to follow - for instance, in one case, if we went as directed we would end up in the Atlantic Ocean. But not to worry, shortly Cate and Marsha pulled up in their van and told us a turn was not listed on the turn sheet and showed us the way to head. Several times this happened. Then Cate and Marsha pulled on ahead to lay down the orange spray paint signs. As we later learned, they could not decide which turns were "tricky" as opposed to "not tricky," so they decided to spray paint an arrow at every single intersection. This would turn out to be a problematic decision later on.

Meanwhile, instead of looking at the turn sheets, which are awkward to review while trying to ride a bicycle, I started relying on the orange paint. So did some of the other riders. After crossing the Portsmouth Bridge into New Hampshire, we all regrouped. Within minutes of heading out again, Ed Hoovler got a flat tire. The bike trailer with mechanic stopped to help him, and most of the rest of us continued on.

At one point, we passed a woman driving the other direction. She yelled out the car window, "What are you riding for?" I yelled back, "We're riding from Maine to Florida to raise awareness about the need for organ and blood donation." She screeched to a halt, told us she was a reporter for the Portsmouth Daily News, and asked if she could interview and photograph us. We obliged, this being the purpose of the trip, after all.

After that, we kept following the orange paint with no problem, until we got to an intersection we thought should have some paint, but didn't. The 5 of us who were together at that time stood there debating what to do for a while.

After not too long, Cate's van pulled up from behind us. She and Marsha explained that they were falling behind and had not yet gotten to this part of the route with the paint. By this time, the route did not seem to be following the turn sheets at all. So we were relying solely on the orange paint signs. Marsha and Cate pulled away to rush to lay the rest of the paint. After a while of painting, however, they ran out of paint - in the middle of Nowhere, New Hampshire. So they had to start relying on whatever materials they still had in the van.

Other than abundant amounts of food, all they had was masking tape. They switched from paint to making arrows in the street out of masking tape. At first, the arrows were quite large, with "5 POL ride" written on them. However, soon even the tape started to run out, and the arrows got smaller and smaller.

We realized the turn sheets had long ago been abandoned, so we had no choice anymore but to rely on the arrows. After much winding through back areas with no real idea where we were going, we managed to get to the meeting point (a gas station in Nashua) for the police escort. We had done 90 miles of riding.

In Kennebunk, we received a warm welcome at the local hospital. After speeches and a visit to the blood donation area, we were escorted down to the hospital cafeteria for dinner. The amount of food on our table after we all sat down was truly incredible. As we started to dig in, "Happy Days" opening scene style, I noticed that every single person on my side of the table was using his or her left hand to eat. I said, "Wow! Is everyone here left handed?" Cheryl - yes, John - yes, me - yes, Ed - no, actually he was eating with both hands. He was just that hungry.

Terminology:

Unsurprisingly, we have been developing our own language among the team members, and picking up bits of the local dialect as well. Here are a few examples:

The "Rodney" -- named after team member Rodney Ford of Oklahoma City - a riding style of getting "aero" on a downhill, where the rider hunches down in the drops and sticks his bottom high in the air, so from the back he looks like a torso-less, headless rider. I have tried to imitate The Rodney a couple of times, but fear I will get stuck upside down.

"Chamois Time" - the amount of time you spend in your chamois-crotch bike shorts. I.e.: "We didn't get to change clothes before the dinner event. Yes, we've racked up a lot of chamois time today."

"Bewn Miro" - the East Coast way of pronouncing something you donate to help people with leukemia.

"Oahgins" -- the Massachusetts name for body parts you can donate, such as liver, heart, lungs, kidneys and pancreas.

"Who AH you people?" --- phrase commonly heard from Massachusetts drivers when we pulled up next to them at stop lights.

Thursday, August 31

Finally, tomorrow will be a day off. All told, over the last 4 days we have had a total of about 72 minutes of free time, and most of those had to be spent rinsing out sweaty smelly cycling jerseys and bike shorts. Looks like there will be more of the same crazy schedule in the future, so I apologize in advance if my reports come in clumps with days missing. Also, the dates, names of towns and people, and events are already getting blurred in my mind. So I apologize for that, too. And anything else I may have done to offend anyone. I apologize freely.

We started at 7:00 am (after eating bagels and bananas from the back of the bike trailer) in Nashua New Hampshire. Accompanying us was a team of 10 riders from one of our sponsors, Haemonetics - a supplier of equipment for separating whole blood into its components, like red cells, plasma and platelets. Haemonetics was the first company to agree to sponsor the 5 Points of Life Ride back in 1996. About half of the Haemonetics riders were named Bob. They had some great Boston accents, saying words such as powah bah, ridah and bananer. The group included the CEO of Haemonetics, Jim Peterson. The Haemonetics team planned out the entire 70 mile route to Braintree, Massachusetts, making sure to include scenic and historic sites like Concord, Walden Pond, Wellesley and Blue Hills.

[click to enlarge] John & Marsha ride through the beautiful countryside somewhere in Massachusetts or New York state.

The Haemonetics people were all fairly intense riders, and seemed a little frustrated that we stopped so often. Each time we stopped, we not only rested and/or went to the bathroom, but also got Gatorade and water out of the support vehicles and ate a hefty amount of food. One of the Heamonetics team members, a very experienced road rider, seemed surprised at how many stops we made. Rodney Ford explained, "we eat all the time. We probably eat around 5,000 calories a day." The rider said, "well, you're not really burning 5,000 calories a day." Maybe that explains why I feel like I'm gaining weight.

Police escorted us the final 2 miles to the Haemonetics offices, where Haemonetics had converted their entire cafeteria area ("cafeterier arear") into a blood/apheresis drive for the day. Around 400 people were outside to greet us, cheering. They had set up big tents in their parking lot for a ceremony and BBQ. The first speakers at the ceremony were the CEO, who had just completed the 70 mile ride, the congressional representative for the area, Representative Moakley, who received an organ transplant himself, a man who saved his son's life by donating bone marrow, and a boy named Weston who got a heart transplant just 20 months ago and is doing great. Weston's mother Jeanette explained that when she learned her son needed a heart transplant, she said, "ok, what day should we schedule it for?" She had no idea that she would have to wait until her son was almost dead.

 

Team member Marsha Lewsley, or "Mahsher" in a Boston accent, spoke after that. She told the story of her father, who had leukemia at a time before there were bone marrow transplants or a bone marrow registry. She stressed that donating blood, bone marrow and organs is simply "a matter of life and death" for those who need them to survive. Team member Peter Fort of Columbia, Maryland donated apheresis right there at the event. Again, camera crews were there to cover it all. After we ate and toured the apheresis drive and facilities, we rode our bikes to the hotel down the street to kick off our first night and following day OFF! We were so excited. Finally, a chance to do laundry, buy much-needed additional cycling gear and clothes (like bike shorts), write and call friends and family, sleep, rest, and get some time away from each other. After all, we have just spent the entire past week together, around 16 hours a day - a radical change from the perfect stranger status we enjoyed just a week ago. Yet, what did we do when we got to the hotel? Sat around in the hallway yakking for hours. I think we like each other. No one's getting kicked off the island just yet. [click to enlarge] Week's end wrap up:

Health:
I am staying plenty hydrated. So much so that I sometimes have to ditch the bike by the side of the road and disappear into the bushes for a Highly Functioning Kidney Break. Luckily, I'm not the only one who does this.

My elbow and knee still have scabs and bruises from the Great Banana Caper, but they seem to be healing just fine. I was worried the prednisone would prevent me from healing well, but I have kept the wounds clean and have had no real problem.

My feet and hands are sore: feet from being in the clipless pedal bike shoes for so long, and hands from gripping the brakes so often.

Generally, I'm swollen (fingers, hands, ankles). I don't know why. It might be the heat. It was a particularly hot, humid ride today, which I'm not used to. We'll see if this swelling goes down by tomorrow.

Skin protection:
I have been putting on number 45 sunscreen every day, but I still get darker and my tan lines more defined. I bought a really stupid looking terrycloth visor a couple of days ago (just before we crossed into New Hampshire, I think) to tuck under my bike helmet. It sort of worked, but I couldn't see too well out from under it, and it gave me a little headache.. I've also been putting zinc oxide on my nose to help block the sun. It's oil based, though. I can feel my pores clogging and acne developing every time I put that stuff on. I have heard that there are cool Generation X or Y tubes of zinc now in "wicked" colors like blue and green. I've been looking for it, but no luck so far.

[click to enlarge] Speaking of skin protection... Ed Hoovler shows off his Saudi side.

J.D. blows bubbles from the back of the van for our entertainment during a food break.

Next: September 1