I never have liked endings — especially when it is the finish of something I really enjoy. Perhaps that is why as a child I would let my imagination take the story line from a favorite book or movie and write new plots to play. It was hard to let go of that magical feeling that a good story creates.

The 2010 Ride for Mike is ending. Today the cycling portion of the ride halted outside the church where Mike was a youth pastor at the time he passed away. It seems like just yesterday we left Tennessee where he was born and started the journey. At the same time, the crusty skin on my nose and sore spots on my bottom attest to lengthy session of sun and saddle.

My emotions grabbed hold of me the closer I got to the finish. Part of me said, “Pedal faster! Pedal faster! You are almost done!” Another part of me argued, “Slow down. Slow down. This adventure is about to end.” The result of the argument was a bittersweet arrival at my final destination.

I pulled up to the sign in front of the church and lifted my bike triumphantly above my head. A photo was taken and I put the bike back down on the ground. “Pssssssst!” The rear tire on the bike that I had ridden all the way from Greenville, South Carolina flatted.

The bike was having its say. It let out a final sigh. The trip was done.

Still, the ride isn’t over. All along this has been more about Michael T. and his family — along with the many people they represent who have similar stories. This aspect of the ride is a part that I knew was important, but this week has opened my eyes to how what I did served very much like a proxy for them. I have been humbled and yet blessed by the realization.

Tomorrow, Annette and I will go over to the church for a special service where I’m told my ride will feature. There will be a moment for friends of Mike to say some words and then I will also speak. The pastor will close out the service and it will be time for Annette and I to make our way back to our children in Greenville.

This evening I spent some time with Carl Kiger (a good friend of Michael T. in Apex), his family as well as Lora McCaskill and little Gracie. As Lora drove us back to the hotel, Annette was in the back seat have tickle fights with Gracie and I was trying to explain my vision of the future of the Ride for Mike to Lora.

I don’t know if I made any sense. The steak at the Angus Barn in Raleigh is excellent and every single drop of blood was going to my stomach to help haul the goodness away to other parts of my body. Yes, even though the blood was not getting as much oxygen as normal to my brain, I did say that there is a future for Ride for Mike.

I’ve already laid the ground work for the 2011 Ride for Mike. The 2010 version simply gave me a greater vision for what the future can be. Here is a hint… in 2011 I will be riding for Mike. In 2011, who will YOU be riding for?

I told you I don’t like endings. So, when one book finishes, it is time to write a new one. That is one good thing about an ending… it opens the door to another beginning.

The morning started out full of promise. We spent the night in Belmont, North Carolina and even though we got to bed late because of the distance we had to drive (once again), I was excited about the prospects of the day. This was the day we were going to catch up!

We even got started before 9:40 AM. That was the time that seemed to trap us like a rare earth magnet in the days before. Not only did we start early, but I knew we only had to go 97 miles to reach our hotel AND that would put us back on schedule. We would ride up to the hotel and then leave the next morning – from the hotel.

The day took a turn south right off the bat. Literally, we had to turn south on a detour after riding for only a couple of miles. We did a bit of a horse shoe that caused us to add several miles to the overall trip. Early in the day, I was actually excited about this. “Good,” I thought, “This will probably make us reach a century – six centuries in six days.” I regretted this later.

The morning was beautiful and cool. I was moving along at a brisk speed on some lovely country roads. That began to change a little once we got on Highway 29 again. There seemed to be more traffic than we had before. Yet, we continued to make good time and before we knew it, we were in Charlotte!

Remembering to keep myself fueled (basically my body was rebelling against anything that I could eat on the bike), we stopped at a Subway. It was one of those inside of a food store. We were now 25 miles in and ready for the next attack.

Then I looked at the map. 25 miles should have been a quarter of the way there. However, it didn’t look like it. It seemed we had not traveled at all. Then I realized that the reason was because we were doing many more turns — and would continue to do so until we could get out of Charlotte. Then things would open up and we would have only one road to take us to Asheboro.

That was our blessing. That was our curse.

I was about to lose my religion right there in Charlotte. The roads were rough and the traffic was right on top of me. To make matters worse, there were lights, after lights, after lights. When you have been riding for six days in a row, you find that you can get in a rhythm and go for miles at a steady speed. However, stop at a traffic light and then try to start up again and your legs scream!

By the way, if anyone finds my LiveStrong water bottle that I dropped near the Bank of America Stadium, you can have it. It was the first of two bottles I lost because I was starting to fatigue and kept missing my bottle cage.

Ah, we made it through Charlotte and now we were on Highway 49! Next stop, Asheboro in 65 miles. What could go wrong? Glad you asked.

First, my tail end (mine, not the bike’s) was starting to hurt something awful. I had put steroid creams and Vagisil down there along with copious amounts of chamois cream. For awhile it helped. However, once I got on that road and the temperatures hit the mid-nineties, it was hard to ignore the irritation.

However, that wasn’t the biggest irritation. I am certain that as I sleep tonight I will hear in my dreams the “Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!” sound of cars passing close by my left ear. It will be like the way you hear the waves in your head after spending a day at the beach — only surfing traffic isn’t nearly as fun as surfing the waves!

There was hardly any break at all in the cars for at least 40 of the 60 miles I rode on 49. To make matters worse, most of that was also a two lane road with no shoulder. Twice I hugged the white line as idiots (that is what they are) passed around traffic and headed straight for me. I hugged the white line prepared to dive off into the hidden dangers of the grass as I stared down the driver of the car coming at me. Both times the cars passed me in my lane no more that two feet away from me.

I’ll stop there because I figure my mom reads this even if no one else does. Needless to say, I was a nervous and a physical wreck by the time the traffic began to clear a bit about 13 miles from Asheboro. Where the cars mysteriously disappeared to, I have no idea. I wasn’t going to go look for them!

I did have one moment of reprieve when I pulled up at yet another Subway in Richland, North Carolina. As I stumbled in out of the heat and sat down to watch Annette order me a sandwich, I overheard the girl at the counter ask, “Is he okay?” Once again, everyone tells me I look like Steve Jobs back when he was having those liver issues.

The cool air and food gave me just what I needed to keep going the last 30 miles to the finish. I didn’t stop during that time because I just wanted to get this day behind me! I never want to travel 49 again and if I am in a plane, I will ask the pilot to route around it so I won’t have to fly over it.

A bright spot was when Bill Thomson showed up out of nowhere. Annette radioed me to say, “Hey, there is a truck behind me with hazards on. Maybe it is someone who knows you.” “I don’t think so,” I replied. “Maybe it is someone hauling something.” Then the truck came by me and I saw someone I didn’t know wave out the window and say, “Go! Jonathan!”

I couldn’t see the driver, but both they and Annette went on ahead and pulled over. As I came by, I saw Bill standing on the side of the road. I’ll tell you, at that point I had tears in my eyes.

So often when I am out there riding I wonder if I am really having any type of impact. There is the selfish part of me that says, “Hey, I want my racing buddies to see that I’m doing something pretty epic.” That all goes out the window when my feet and butt hurt so bad that I don’t know if I want to turn the pedals one more time.

It is times like seeing Bill on the side of the road that really remind me what I am doing. Bill first started supporting Low Cadence and my Ride for Mike rides back in the beginning. He did so because he took up cycling as a way to keep himself busy after his wife died of cancer. His support is his way of remembering her just as I seek to remember Mike.

Bill is just one of the stories. However, even if Bill’s story was the only one, it is worth putting on the shoes one more day and moving on for a few more miles. Think of his story. I can have a part in helping to heal wounds and encourage to fight ahead.

Just me. On a bike.

What a day! I started out miles behind the original route. We were made more behind by the fact that we overslept and had to rush to get out the door to drive the 30 minutes to the transition. By the time I got there, I didn’t even know if I wanted to get on the bike.

However, it was relatively cool and we really weren’t getting started any later than usual — we were just rushed. So, I climbed on the bike and we headed for Dawsonville, Georgia — our original transition area. We made it by about 11:00.

At a Kangaroo Station I drank a slushy and sent a tweet about our location. Just after we restarted and were leaving Dawsonville, I got  a text saying, “Don’t go anywhere.” Hmmmm, I didn’t recognize the number and figured it was errant. I kept riding enjoying the morning. Then a SUV drove by. I looked up to see two bikes on the top. “Ah, kindred spirits,” I thought to myself. Then a head leaned out. “Oh, look, he is going to say something to me,” my frazzled brain informed me.

Then it hit me. “Hey, I know that vehicle! Yes, I know that head!” It was Dave McQuaid and Chris Hartzler coming to my aid… WAY before the time we had originally planned to meet. Yet, there they were.

I’ve got to get some sleep, so I can’t go into too much detail about the rest of the day. All I can say is these guys are angels. They took turns pulling me all the way from Dawsonville to Clemson. Put it down right here… I could not have made it without them! Of any day that I needed the help, it was this one.

The day included some more heat. It gave us a scare by sending us through a construction zone where I couldn’t keep up with the caravan passing through and ended up having to get off the new asphalt onto the tar a rocks to avoid oncoming traffic. I scooted across the tar onto the shoulder where I got in some cyclocross training for about 30 yards. My wheels where toast by the time I made it through.

Then we were trying to find the best route because we kept running into gravel roads. Finally we turned on a road that turned into gravel, but it didn’t seem so bad. I kept going. I was was descending Black Mountain Road like I was on a mountain bike. I remembered all those Winter Bicycle League rides when Sperry would send us into his favorite gravel sections. Only this one had me going down just about out of control.

Chris, who was riding at the time, stopped and got in the SUV. I, the crazy one, said, “No, I am not going to get in the car. I will ride this out.” Well, that thought came to an end with a squishy feeling on the rear of my bike and a lot of noise from the the same location. I just got my first flat of the ride.

The funny thing is that I got in the car and we drove no more than 50 yards and the gravel turned back into asphalt. From there it was just smooth sailing. Sure, I was tired, but storm clouds rolled in to hide the sun and the breeze was cool. I had good friends and a nice SUV to draft behind down 123 toward Clemson.

We made it! Then Annette and I grabbed some Zaxby’s chicken and started the drive to Greenville.  Dave Mruz told me to come by his office for an adjustment. Ah, another angel! He has done so much for me already since the accident. I am amazed at his willingness to help me. I’m set for the next three days for sure.

My final angel is the one who has been with me the whole time — and even before. The Beautiful Redhead has been tremendous through all of this. She makes it so I don’t have to do anything except get on my bike and ride it. I don’t want to talk too glowing about her. I don’t want some professional team to steal her as a soigner!

Well, I’m off to sleep in my own bed tonight. Then tomorrow I stop by Sunshine Cycle Shop for another angel to do some work on my bike. Then it is back down to Clemson for the beginning of Day Five! I’ll reach my final state tomorrow — North Carolina.

THANK YOU. THANK YOU to all of you who have prayed for us and supported us. I have been overwhelmed by your kindness and support. I wish I could accurately convey to you just how hard this has been for me. Many is the time I have just kept pedaling know that by stopping I would be letting down so many people who want to see me finish.

I will finish.

I wish I was keeping the blog up-to-date a little better. However, this week is conspiring against me to keep me constantly behind. It is now 10:14 PM and I’m just now getting free to type something here. I hope when I return, I can spend some time writing about the events of this week. For now, I’m going to have to get some sleep.

Our typical day starts with a late stop the night before. We have been getting off the bike at around 7:30 PM and because we have gotten behind we have longer transitions to our lodging. By the time we get everything unloaded, eat something, and get cleaned up; it is as late as 9:30 PM. Because today’s transition was nearly 30 miles, we had an even later stop.

That means that if I get the sleep I need, I will need to get up no earlier than 6 AM. By the time we get breakfast, load the car, and make it to the place where we left off the day before; we’re good to get started by 9 AM. Those first few hours aren’t so bad. It is relatively cool and I’m feeling as fresh as I can. The the middle of the day comes.

From around 11 AM until 3 PM, it is a plain old suffer fest. We have had temperatures over 90 degrees everyday. Sunday was 93. Monday was 95. Tuesday was 96. Hopefully tomorrow we’ll have a cooling trend and only hit 90 degrees.

The hills have been hard. The long hours in the saddle are starting to wear me down you-know-where, but the worse thing so far has been the heat. It just sucks everything out of you. You drink and drink and sweat and sweat. Your head starts to hurt and your water bottles turn tepid.

Still, this is awesome! I am doing something that I frankly had questions about finishing. Three days under our belt and even though we will have to stop outside of Greenville (probably Clemson), I’ll get to sleep in my own bed!

Also, I can look at it this way, we are 46 miles ahead of schedule. If I am going to do 700 miles in 7 days, I only need to do 100 miles each day. So far, I’ve bested that. So, while I may be missing my target to get into Greenville. Annette and I have miles to spare before Apex.

I’ll prefer to think of it that way.