Not apocalyptically speaking... I don't think at least. But we are less than 200 miles away from Portland, OR now; three days of moderate biking which is good because my body is starting to take the toll (though oddly enough, the worst abuse came on our day off in Missoula when I went to a metal show and gave myself whiplash from headbanging).
When we were in Sauk Rapids, Minnesota, the three of us stayed with Ross' cousin who is married with three kids. A lovely family and fantastic hosts. The oldest daughter, eleven I think, and her friend had dinner with us adults and they excused themselves as the rest of us sat around drinking beer and talking.
I guess they went outside for a bit, because when they came back in, the daughter said to her friend, "They're STILL sitting around the table talking?" To which her friend replied, "Let's go downstairs and try on funny hats."
And I wanted to stop them, "Wait! No! I'm still cool! I don't normally sit around and drink beer and talk about financial risks and how companies can save upwards of one million dollars by re-evaluating their phone plans. I'm still young and fun! I like trying on funny hats!"
But why would they believe me? I guess I had an inkling for a while, but it's becoming undeniable that I am, in fact, an adult. But worse than that, I'm an adult with very little direction and the desires of a child. All I want to do after this trip is over is to watch Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers.
Part of the impetus for this trip was to clear the head, find my inner compass, and start pointing my life in a direction. But it's been a sort of purgatory biking all this time. I'm literally spinning my wheels while the rest of the world continues with whatever the non cycling world does day to day. Lately, it's actually felt more like hell than purgatory since I've had the song "The Name Game" stuck in my head throughout most of western Montana and Washington. Hours upon hours of
Come on everybody!
Let's play a game!
I betcha I can make a rhyme
Out of anybody's name!*
Lincoln, lincoln, bo bincoln
fa na na na na fo fincoln
me my mo mincoln
But I feel confident once I crawl out of this purgatory, stepping on the heads of unbaptized infants on my way to heaven, a new and better armin will be the end result, able to talk about financial planning at a dinner table AND wear a silly hat at the same time.
*Disclaimer: The Name Game is only applicable to one and two syllable names with the exception of Chuck, Art, and Rich.