Day 5: When the going gets tough....

Matador to Spur
“When the going gets tough, the tough get going….”
“See to it that you complete the work you have received in the Lord.”
Colossians 4:17

I woke up with a fat lower lip from sunburn. Our shoulders were sore from our backpacks and our derrieres (polite word for butts) hurt a 10 on the scale from 1-10. Ibuprofen was a very necessary commodity and we were using up our supply fast. I had trouble rousting Rick out of bed this next morning. “I’m 2 ½ years older than you,” was his excuse. He wanted breakfast but he settled for orange juice. The wind was bad. We struggled into Roaring Springs after just 8 miles and bummed around there building up courage for a few more miles. I prayed to God asking for the wind to abate. I guess God had more lessons of endurance for me to participate in and the wind continued throughout the day. I resorted to singing hymns and praying to distract me from the trials at hand. I called a friend to ask for prayer. I encouraged Rick to draft off me but he just couldn’t or wouldn’t get the hang of it. I would try to draft off him but he was going too slow. One bright spot of temporary encouragement came along. Sharon McMullen, in route to Austin to help with the grandchildren, stopped with warm hugs and well wishes. We needed that Sharon McMullen boost!
My husband wanted a sag wagon and verbalized thoughts of a rent car and a cab. Rick kept saying “if” we make it to the beach which would tick me off considerably as he showed his doubt about finishing our trip. I kept saying “when” and Rick would say “if.” Two totally different mind sets. Two totally different people and personality types. Lots of frustration. My Life Application Bible adds these comments to Colossians 4:17: “There are many ways for us to leave our work unfinished. We can easily get sidetracked morally, we can become exhausted and stop, we can get mad and quit, or we can let it slide and leave it up to others. We should see to it that we finish God’s assignments, completing the work we have received.” That’s where I was coming from. Rick’s thought processes were, “It is not your timetable or my timetable but God’s timetable.” I acknowledged that this was true but argued “God wants us to finish!”
My journal entry read “Ugh! We sack out at the Dickens County Line. Wind 30 mph. Honey brightens our eyes. We are covered with a crust of salt, sand and snot. The wind does not give up…. It is 85 degrees.” I was thinking again of the great stories of trial and triumph: Pilgrim’s Progress, Lord of the Rings, Christopher Columbus and Lewis and Clark. I even thought of ET and the wonderful bike ride scene as his earth friends secreted him away and tried to help him with his desire to “Go Home.” I called my buddies at work. I could be totally honest with them about the complexity of the ride. My friends at work were a huge encouragement to me and it did me a lot of good to tell them about our struggles and trials.
We stopped at least hourly to rest, eat and regain our strength. Of course, consistent with our personality types, I didn’t want to stop. Rick did. I was happy with a 10 minute break. But Rick wanted longer. This conflict was never resolved and was a source of frustration clear to the beach.
As we descended into Dickens we stopped to rest. It was close to 7 p.m. and was 92 degrees. We were tuckered out. I knew there was a motel in Dickens but had been encouraged by several folks not to stay there if we could help it. My friend back home had laughed about the possibility of “roach hotels” along the way. So far, no roach motel and I really wanted to keep it that way. We biked slowly through the quiet town and didn’t see a soul. On our way out of town, we stopped at the only place we saw that was open at the crossroads of 114 and 70-a liquor store. We were hot, tired and discouraged as we guzzled orange juice and grapefruit juice and refilled our water bottles with cold H2O. Rick’s friend Curt Hogue called at this point. The proprietress said, “The wind is dying down and there are no hills between here and Spur. Why don’t ya’ll head on?” So we did. We reached way down into that very deep, deep place and pulled up some more “want to.” I had called ahead to make sure there was a room but received a recording from Jewell at “The Spur Inn.” Her message ended, “And remember! We love you!” So with that said I was banking on a room at The Spur Inn.
We made 11 miles in one hour compared to our previous 3, 4 and 5 mph forward progress against the wind before the wind settled. It was cool and the tables had completely turned around. Wind was no longer our foe and had retracted her menacing threats. We arrived in Spur at 8:30. We biked through town and spied the Spur Inn. In one movement, I dropped my bike and bounded up the stairs. Door open, there sat Jewell with her oxygen nasal canula in her nose quilting on a yo-yo quilt in her lap. She beckoned me in with a big smile and dancing eyes. I hugged her neck and asked, “do you have a room for a weary traveler?” She said, “Honey, I’m gonna put you in my little cottage out back.” Her husband, Jim, got up to greet me. By then Rick had arrived. “Cottage” sounded like big bucks to me and I said, “Jewell, we are on a budget.” She said, “Honey, you don’t have to pay me.” Of course we wanted to pay, just not eighty bucks. She also offered their truck, “Go get you something to eat. You must be starving.” Jim ended up driving us to the local fast food place. The young man who waited on us was friendly and I noted dog tags around his neck. His brother was serving in Iraq and the dog tags were around his neck to remind him of his brother. The young man also had his marijuana necklace on which I just had to inquire about. “Oh, I just like to wear it.” ‘Course I commented on the dog tags, too, and tried to focus on the positive. We took our nutritionally bankrupt meal back to our cottage, and inhaled the salty food. I lathered on the catsup and am glad there were no witnesses as we devoured the food. Just picture a couple of ravenous, filthy pirates stranded on a hot and windy deserted island digging in and it will be close enough…. Of course, as a health nut my body and mind were screaming “no” the whole time I ate but my defenses were low and lust for salt and grease won out over my common sense.
Grateful for a clean room, we cranked down the ac, took our respective showers and hit the hay. I was grateful for separate beds. Rick had expressed his desire to sleep in. That was the deal. If he would get up and go early that a.m., he could sleep in the next day. We had ascertained it might be to our benefit if we got a later start and biked at dusk or in the dark when the wind let up a little. So I acquiesced to his desire to sleep in.