Fears

Prior to this trip, people often asked me what I was most nervous about. At first, I would respond with "Not reaching my fundraising goal," but as the months progressed I began to answer, "Mountains." The past three days we have been riding through the foothills of the Appalachian mountain range. I realized today that mountains are not my biggest fear. I can train for mountains, I can walk my bike, I can be sore the next day, but I won't die, so mountains aren't really that bad. Today I realized my two biggest fears, and training in Boston did not prepare me for this.

Logging trucks. South Carolina's economy seems to be based heavily on natural resources, particularly natural gas and logging. Anyway, you can heart logging trucks coming up from behind you, and they don't share the road, and as they are passing inches away on your left you begin to this that these sideways trees go on forever. They are so loud and startling, and when they finally pass all you can do is hope that no branches or twigs hit you. But there's something else that's loud, unruly, and wants bikers get off their road.

Dogs. I did not anticipate this being an issue I'd have to face. Unlike up in Massachusetts, many dogs are not on leashes, in cages, or graduates of obedience school. The riders at the front of the day's ride (known as the choppers) can send group text messages to give a head's up, "Dogs at mile 18 intersection. They are very aggressive. Use water bottles." In high school I was bit in the face by a dog, and I've been a scared of aggro dogs ever since. But the choppers didn't face dogs today. Meanwhile, I was chased twice. The first time there was a dog that ran onto the road from behind me out of a crops field. I sped up to 24mph and the dog backed off after shouting "No!" three times. But the second time, there were two dogs, and they ran faster. For a while, they kept up at my speed, which was a hard speed to maintain while shouting as loud as I can. They ran in the middle of the road and along the road. I was trying to balance shifting gears, yelling, pedaling as hard as possible, and watching for cars. I swerved into the left lane (a huge safety don't), and luckily there were no cars approaching. After what felt like a half mile, they finally backed off when they realized I was out of their territory. I was a bit shaken up after that, and practiced getting my water bottle out and back into its cage while riding, so that next time I can spray them with Gatorade. I've heard the dogs out west are just feral.