Nocturnal Wonderland

I must make a few general comments regarding my blog. I am going on this three-month bike trip with my two brothers, David and Andrew, and even though we will be together the whole time, we will experience things differently. I am writing this blog from my own perspective, and the views and opinions expressed here definitely reflect my own. I am doing this to share my experiences with my loved ones (if you are reading this then you fall under that category), and to comment on what I see, who I meet. What I see will of course be processed through my own worldview. But I am also writing a blog for myself, with the intent of honing my writing skills. Having an audience will motivate me to put more effort into my posts. But seriously, please do not feel any pressure to keep up with the blog. Honestly, who reads blogs anyway? I've only ever read two - including my brother Andrew's which I recommend (http://www.lifebybike.blogspot.com/, he might be writing about the trip as well). Still, I would love to receive any comments on our experiences, or about my beliefs. I hope my blog is rewarding in some way to you all. Finally, a sentiment I share with Andrew...go ride your bike!

Preparations are coming smoothly. I spent another hour sanding down all the surfaces of the frame using rough sandpaper. Then I taped off all the areas and holes that shouldn't get painted. After wiping off the paint powder, I sprayed one side, covering it deep green. After 45 minutes I flipped it over and sprayed the other side. Later on I repeated the process with a clear coat finish. Drips don't bother me, no one will see them unless they're inspecting the frame, and imperfections give it character. The whole process was quite fun.

It snowed a whole heap that evening, which made me happy. I was beginning to miss the sparkle of Holland. I suited up and went for a run to continue my training. I learned from experience a few weeks ago that running at night while it's snowing is very exhilarating. I went off-road, over rough frozen cornfields and through the forest where I turned on my headlamp. I leaped over fallen limbs and dodged between trees, my fists held up like a boxer's to deter any eye-attacking twigs. The leaves and humus were soft, and with a layer of snow this particular forest running was both thrilling and exhausting. I felt alive. I'd better be able to do this stuff when I'm sixty, or life won't be worth living anymore. If this is the only age I get to be active like this, well hell, I'm taking advantage of it while I can, because I can't imagine a way to live more fully than stampeding through a forest at night with sheets of unique flakes parting before my unbreakable wake. It was cold, but back home 45 minutes later I dripped sweat from too many layers of clothing.