Thursday, October 11, 2007: Grand Finale

5:45 - I wake up to an alarm.  My roommate for the night at the youth hostel, Renato, is up early to head to La Alhamabra and wait in line for a ticket to get in.  I tipped him off that the lines were long, and after calling the tourist info line, they told him he had better be there before 7am if he hoped to get a ticket.  In his little Spanish, he says goodbye, and I wish him good luck.

 

7:53 - After tossing and turning and not getting much more sleep, I decide to get up and get going.

 

8:29 - Packed, dressed, and ready to go, I am just in time to hit up the complementary continental breakfast.  I realize it´s going to be a day tight in time, as I have 100km to cover before 3:30 to catch a train to Madrid.

 

9:11 - After checking out of the hostel and stretching, I straddle the bike, reset my bike computer, and head start the ride.

 

9:23 - I realize I am lost on my way out of the city.  I stop to ask for directions, and am told that the road I plan on taking out of the city has a lot of traffic, but it´s really the only way to avoid the highway.

10:40 - After finding the road, I am making good time.  The wind is behind me, there are no hills to climb, and even though traffic has been busy, I have an ample, well-paved shoulder.

 

11:46 - Despite having made great time to the first small city where I planned to have lunch, Alcalá la Real, I get lost finding the road I want to be on.  I ask a cop dressed in a bright yellow vest for directions.

 

12:08 - The cop´s directions were poor.  After following his signals, I am well out of the city, but I don´t see the signs I expect.  It feels like I´m going too far west and not far enough north.  I am also heading uphill.  After getting to what I think is the top of the climb, I look out at the landscape and decide that I am going the wrong way.  I head back downhill.

 

12:17 - I find a road sign that points me in what I think is the right direction.  Three uphill kilometers to the next town where I will stop and ask.
 

12:22 - The first person I see tells me that I can get to where I want to go on the road I´m on, but that it´s unpaved and probably will have to walk my bike most of the way.  He suggests turning around, and going back up the same hill that I had climbed previously.  The cop´s directions, though not very descriptive, were correct.  In second guessing, I had lost 30 minutes.  All of the sudden, the good time I had made earlier is erased, and I realize that I have 3 hours to cover something like 55km.  That´s about 20kph, which is a tough pace, especially if there´s any climbing involved.  My heart starts pounding harder.

 

12:35 - After setting a blitzkrieg pace uphill, I make it back to the point where I had stopped before and turned around.  This time, I don´t even stop to admire the view.  I realize it had been a false summit, and after a tiny bit more climbing, I head back down on the other side of the climb at 45kph.  From my long downhill, it looks like I will have to climb out of the town, as it is located in a valley.

 

1:48 - I have kept up a good pace, but not 20kph.  Indeed, I had to climb out of the town, and about the best I can muster uphill is 14kph.  I have less than two hours with some 38km to go.

 

2:00 - I don't know what time it is, but I sense it must be getting close to 2.  I look, and I am spot on.  I had told myself that if at 2 I didn't think I could make it, that I would stop pushing myself so hard, and just plan on taking a later train, making Ana wait for me until about 11pm.  I am cold.  It's October, I'm at about the same latitude as Washington, DC, but I´m 1000 meters (3300 feet) up in the mountains.  Even though the sun in shining brightly, there is a cool breeze, and heading downhill it's just plain cold.  Passing clouds make it worse.  Me right quad and both of my calves feel like they might cramp up.  I decide that this last stage of my bike ride in Spain is a test, physical and mental, and that I´m just going to push myself as hard as I can.  I look up at the sky, not in prayer, but just hoping that the sun warms me up a bit.

 

2:22 - Not looking at my speed, I know I am making good time, and that I might have a chance to make it.  The pattern seems to be that there are mountains to climb, and in between there are towns in the valleys.  I am about to descend into Villares, the last town before my destination of the city of Jaén, 28km away.  Just over an hour left.

 

3:01 - The climb has been less than tough, and I am looking down on Jaén from the southern hills.  No more climbing left, and I have about 8 km to the train station.  It's in the bag, provided I don't get lost in the city.  Fortunately, I was here two weeks earlier when I came on train from Zaragoza, and I remember exactly where the train station is.  As I cross into the city, I see two other people on bikes.  I slow down to ask them where they're from.  They're and older couple from Austin, TX, complete with the southern twang and all, and they're here with a big group.  At a traffic light, I tell them I really want to visit Austin, and that this is my last day of biking after 2 months.  The light turns green, and I speed off.  The last thing I hear is the man telling his wife that he thinks they have to turn left, and climb a small hill which he describes as 20% incline, but it really is not more than 10%.  She disagrees with his sense of orientation.  I look back to see that they have moved to the sidewalk to sort things out.

 

3:16 - I arrive at the train station, with time to spare, and buy my ticket.  The train leaves in 13 minutes.  Just out of curiosity, I ask the person at the counter if there are seats available on the later train.  He explains that the later train is sold out because it's the first train to leave after people get out of work, and the last train to Madrid that day before the Friday holiday.  I smile, say thanks, and take my ticket and head to the train.

 

3:38 - The train leaves late.

 

4:01 - After putting on pants on top of my spandex, slipping into my Crocs, and changing the jersey for a t-shirt, I go to the WC and wash my face.  I am at the front of the train car, and everyone looks at me funny when I stand up to stretch.  Out of curiosity, I look at my odometer, and realize that right before arriving at the train station, I had hit 4005km (2503 miles).  The extra distance from getting lost pushed me over the mark, which I had previously thought I would fall short of.

 

4:10 - Because I didn't make many stops on my ride, I have lots of food left.  I grub it all, and take a nap.

 

6:12 - I wake up, and the train is totally full.  I read some, and look out at the wide plains heading into Madrid.

 

7:40 - Bright orange and purple dominate the sky as the sun sets.  Reflecting on my trip, I feel pride, happiness, and an overwhelming feeling that I have changed, and I am glad for it.

 

8:15 - The train arrives late.  I can't find the elevator exit, so I work the bike onto the escalators.  It's a madhouse, the largest station in Madrid before a long weekend.

 

8:48 - After making my way out to the street, I have some trouble finding a payphone to call Ana.  There is a protest going on outside the train station.

 

9:01 - I call Ana.  She is waiting for me at another part of the train station.  We meet up, head to her apartment just outside of Mardid in the suburb of Boadilla.

 

9:53 - I appreciate the shower with personal items, unlike the empty campsite showers.  I appreciate having a big fluffy towel instead of my quick dry camping towel.  I appreciate the wool top, jeans, and my black casual dress shoes that Ana has brought me from Burgos.

 

10ish - We meet up with some of Ana´s friends (Beatriz, Yara, and Nuri) for drinks and tapas.  I have a caña (beer from tap), and we all share toasted bread with sundried tomatoes and foie gras, as well as some goat cheese with caramelized onions.

 

11ish - We head to the fairgrounds of the suburb of Boadilla, which is celebrating their annual fiestas.  There is a little open-air market set up, and their is a covered arena with lots of young people dancing to spanish pop and reggaeton.  The DJ is on a stage pumping out fake smoke and bright lights.  I am struck by the contrast from when I woke up to where I am, hundreds of miles away, no longer alone, done with the bike ride, and 6 days away from heading back to Boston.

 

12ish - We head home, for what would be the first full night of uninterrupted sleep I have had in a really, really long time.