Relative Something

By the last day, we are pretty prepared to finish. Many of our parting salutations begin at breakfast, on the chance our paths don’t cross again for the remainder of the day. There is a bittersweet feeling of the sorrow of parting and the interest in sleeping in a bed again and returning to all the comforts of home. There is a bit less meandering in our pedaling on Friday, as we have a strong pull in the form of a car waiting for us at the destination. The sooner we reach the car, the sooner we hit the road back home and the sooner we see our family again. I don’t know that I can convey how difficult it is to keep your eyes open during that car ride home. When you stop pedaling, sit in the soft seat of a car and just recline while listening to the drone of the engine lullaby your senses dull, the eyelids become too heavy to defy. As tired as I feel, I don’t dare give in and leave the driver, who is under similar pressure to stay alert, on his own to fend off the same pressure.

I dread the chore of putting up the tent at home to clean it out and sorting all my gear to put things away. I just want to collapse and enjoy living indoors again and having all my normal conveniences. The trickiest part is turning off the urge to continue to eat like we have been while riding all week. It has often been said of our group that we are an eating group with a biking disorder. It would be wonderful if I would be able to continue to burn as many calories a day as in the previous week, but it’s not going to happen. No more ice cream treats for a while, for me.