Come on feel the Illinoise! and other Sufjan Stevens-related audiology

Thursday night I managed to lose my digital camera and jogging through my memory, had thought I left it at the Y in the afternoon. After much effort and scrambling, it was in my sleeping bag. Some other belongings were a different case. Packing up Friday morning, I discovered I lost both a pair of bike shorts that I had supposedly left out to dry on a stack of folding chairs and my copy of On The Road. The inconvenience in losing the shorts is now having only two pairs, which gets a little tedious having to constantly wash them, or a little smelly from reuse. The book, however, is a bigger loss to me because of its sentimental value. In a gesture of good faith, Brian lent me his copy of Life of Pi for me to read instead given his early departure. So I grumbled for the first few miles of the ride and otherwise feared for my safety given the busy, pock-marked roads we biked along. At first it was scenic with the wooded lake shore and otherwise rural charm, but quickly transformed into oil refineries, steel mills, gaming casinos, and Gary. Through the latter part of things, the definition of "rust belt" became apparent, with crumbling urban streets, boarded up storefronts, and not a single person awake or on the sidewalk. Indianapolis Blvd. through Hammond became a long tunnel with a light at the end, the Illinois state line and an instantly inviting environment, with paved bike lanes and tree-lined residential streets through some otherwise quiet south Chicago neighborhoods. It all ended up on the lakefront path and led to Jackson Park and 57th street beach where we spent some time hanging out and waiting out the time before our arrival in Millenium Park. The view was fantastic, and unseen in my eyes. I usually only see the skyline from the west or north, but from the so it all seems to open up and stretch out before you, touching upon the lake. It was really wonderful to be back in town.

We ended up biking up Michigan Avenue at a familiar, crawling pace. Apparently it was Blues Fest that kept traffic more horrendous than usual. And this is why the bike is superior on the urban streetscape. Past the fountains with the enormous faces we were greeted by the applause of friends, family, and other Illini 4000 supporters, which was wonderful. In procession we climbed up the steps to the gigantic metal bean and had hours of photo-ops and snacks provided by the Schlesinger family. Then the convoluted part of getting our bikes to Homewood ensued. After miles of confused wandering, we discovered that the van was indeed underneath Millenium Park and not in the Grant Park garage further away. So, after a badly needed shower in the bike station and a lot of hustle and bustle, the van and the Ludmer-mobile spirited away our velocipides and we were given all of an hour to hang out before riding the train back to Homewood. Brian, his girlfriend Mackenzie, Brandt and I stuck together and got confused by the Metra Electric Line and its many branches, having ended up on the wrong train which fortunately was only 30 seconds ahead of the correct one. We walked around town and spotted the hordes of cicadas which otherwise taken over the trees and the park fountain. And the buzzing, the buzzing was ethereal and non-stop. I savored the experience given the last time this happened I was 3 and the next time I'll be 37, just to put things in perspective. We ended up being the first to arrive at St. Paul's and had firstsies on the tons of food that had been donated to us by local eateries and the Albrecht family. My mom, dad, and sister came to visit me, which was nice. They are my biggest sponsors and equipment providers and I am ever grateful for their generosity in helping make my participation on this adventure possible. I would post the picture of the four of us, but my boxers were clearly showing, so I'll have to postpone it or photoshop it so it looks like a nice family portrait. My day ended when I decided to lay down, spelling death to my productivity.

Saturday I woke up at 6 in the morning, despite an irregular 8:30 wakeup. I changed out saddles, thinking a harder one without the gel cut-out would be slightly less uncomfortable. We got a late start due to the ride-along. That day we would have three extra riders who would be joining us from the train station. And so we began the trip to Champaign, which normally would take me 2 and a half hours, but would take so much longer but be so much more worthwhile and fulfill a desire to get back to school on two wheels. We stopped in or went through all the little towns that the I-57 exit signs list that you would otherwise forget about or just use as markers towards a bigger destination. I joined the head paceline for a good, fast ride through that familiarly flat Illinois corn- and soy-scape. I flatted out almost imperceptibly despite the apparent lack of road hazards, which was strange. In Chebanse, IL we were greeted again by Jon Schlesinger's family at the Zion Lutheran Church. They had arranged a dinner to end all dinners by firing up the grill and satisfying our taste for Italian sausage or soy burgers. I made the mistake of lying down afterwards, which ended my night quickly.

Sunday we snaked along the I-57 overpasses and through more small towns, which would turn out to be death for our schedule. Geoff, one of our sponsors and biggest supporters joined us on his titanium Merckx and made good company. Again, it was strange to stop at all the gas stations and see all the exit ramps from the Frontage roads that you would stop at or just drive by. My delight in the landscape ended when I went into neuromuscular fatigue and we had to get into Rantoul by a certain time that would necessitate a fast pace. Someone remarked that my saddle was too high, which it was, but hadn't bothered me since. It was also then that I realized my new saddle was just as uncomfortable as my old one, so there is little use in keeping both. In Rantoul, we were greeted by the Alumni association with Gatorade and by the Dustheimers with snacks, which were sweet relief for my sore legs. We would also be escorted into town by the Prairie Cycling Club and other supporters. It was great to see some familiar roads again, the same ones we had taken months before on long training rides, except now we would be much more fit and hardened by consecutive days of cycling. Riding down Lincoln Avenue reminded me of the many Critical Masses I had ridden with and I knew I was home again in that place where I spend a significant portion of my year, even for just a small part of my life thus far.

At the Alumni Center, we had a warm welcome from supporters, alumni, and the press, and I instantly commenced with the eating and the photo-ops. I spoke to a reporter from the News-Gazette and related to her my take on the Illini 4000 and the stories of the day, like when Nick Ludmer passed over 1000 miles on his odometer, he threw out M&Ms from his bike to the adoring masses, or the rest of the group as we stopped for a rest somewhere along the way. I passed over 1000 miles the same afternoon but to little notice and celebration as we were rushing to meet a time schedule. I asked the WPGU folks to play a Sufjan Stevens song in honor of one of my teammates, Alex, who couldn't make it out to Champaign with us due to her grandfather's passing. It was "Decatur, or Round of Applause for Your Stepmother!" which I had been singing since Ohio for some reason, and won't stop until we pass through Decatur itself. My friend Kim visited me and I road her full suspension mountain bike, which was fun. Then my other cyclist friend Henry showed up looking for Keith who had gone back to the Illini 4000 Orbital HQ, where I ended up in need of a shower and change of clothes. I ended up going to Dorca's, the other Korean restaurant in town I hadn't been to, with Drew, Keith, and Adam and managed to use the little Korean phrases that Sehee had taught me. At this point, my throat began to hurt and I was phlegmatic, if that's the right word for being phlegmy. On the walk back, I ran into four of my friends in the short stretch between Starbucks and Cold Stone and remarked how despite the surreal emptiness of town, I had managed to run into a lot of people I knew. Back at HQ, I felt progressively
worse until I fell asleep.

Today I woke up at 9 with a worse sore throat and took the only thing I had in my possession that would help me, Cepacol throat lozenges. It seemed to do about 50% of the trick as I still feel awful. I went into campus to pay off my student bill and now find myself in the Undergrad. Library where there is, again, this surreal emptiness. It's otherwise bright and the trees are fully green, something I wouldn't appreciate by not being here in the summertime. It's taken me a couple of hours to do this and keep updated among other things, so I best end now. Thank you for reading up to this point.