the slowest morning and the fastest afternoon

We had an option of riding on the trail by the river again this morning or doing a really challenging, hilly bit. I hemmed and hawwed about it, but I'd heard tails that tomorrow's ride into Gettysburg, 100 miles of brutal hills, was the hardest of the trip. I decided going into that worn out wasn't the way forward, so I went on the trail with Caitlin, Sarah, and Kasey. I think we got it in our minds that since we'd chosen the easy route, we were going to take it to the extreme and have a blissfully easy morning. We puttered along on the trail at an easy 9 m.p.h., and stopped for a leisurely second breakfast in Rockwood, PA. We also stopped for a bit to repair Kasey's flat tire.

We figured that the others would have such a hard time with the hills that we'd have no problem getting to the point where the paths merged with time to spare. We figured wrong. The others had long since gone by the time we made it to the meet up point.

I actually have a harder time going slow in the mornings. It kind of sets the tone for the whole day. Also, I like to cover as many miles as I can in the morning, so by the time I hit a wall, I don't have so far to go. If I take it easy in the mornings, I still get tired around 1, but then still have a lot of miles ahead of me. So, while I enjoyed the leisurely morning of girly chit chat on the trail, I was rearing to go by the time we got back on the roads.

I think Caitlin felt similarly, so we took off together. It was a tough afternoon with some really difficult climbs. However, I've learned that big climbs means big descents, and I've learned to like them. When you hear the number "40", you may think of the number of days that Noah and crew spent on the ark. Or perhaps the number of days in Lent. However, when I now think of 40, it reminds me of today and how I went (Mom -- earmuffs) 40 MILES PER HOUR down the hills of Pennsylvania. It was glorious. And terrifying. I feel like such a wild child! I am usually the cautious child, but I've learned to love the feel of the wind in my hair as I whiz down the hills without squeezing the brakes the whole time.

We went through Somerset, PA today, the sight of the Flight 93 crash and memorial. Being there was incredibly moving. From the moment I walked up, a knot appeared in my throat and choked me nearly to tears. It's all too much to take in and comprehend. Mainly I felt immense gratitude -- for the sacrifice the passengers of Flight 93 made, and that I was born in a country where I can experience freedom in its full form, and for those who have made that possible throughout the history of this country. And also amazement at their bravery. And sorrow for their loss and for their families who continue living without them. And confusion about why it happened, and how different modern warfare is, and what a clash different cultures can make when they meet, and how complex our world is. And an immensely heavy and palpable sadness.

Also, a bit from Daria's blog on her experience there:

Visiting the memorial was an extremely emotional experience. Although the 9/11 tragedy occurred almost ten years ago, the memories of that day came flooding back. The crash of Flight 93 is particularly relevant to our journey as it is widely presumed that the intended target of Flight 93 was the United States Capitol Building in Washington, D.C. If the events of that day had unfolded differently, the Capitol Building might not exist.

Tonight was the second to last time I'll have to put up my tent (not that anyone, especially not me :o), is counting), and I borrowed some stakes to replace the ones I'd lost in my frenzied rain-induced panics to shelter my exposed belongings, or accidentally left at other campgrounds. They made a big difference, and kept the rain off me. I even enjoyed the light tinkle of the rain falling lightly on the tent. This was a campground with Wifi internet available throughout, so I felt like I was living the life of luxury that night. I sat in my tent, AND IT WAS DRY, surfing the internet. I reckon it's better to get the hanging of putting up a tent, such that it stays dry, late rather than never.