On the TransAmTrail (Astoria - Oregon, to Yorktown - Virginia)

Part II.
This is where I'm heading for the heart; the 'fly over' states of America. Although I was a bit sad to leave my travel buddies, I know I want to do this, for the most part, by myself. Nobody to lean on or hide behind when it gets tough. And sure boy it got tough. Why is it always so easy for me to give myself a hard time? It happened, as soon as I was on my own, I hit that wall again. 93 miles (150km) I did that day and no more playful practice, o no, Virginia is the real deal baby. The world is not flat, and I know now.   
But it's gorgeous! Here I am, lazily doing some washboards on the rolling hills of Virginia, and all of a sudden I'm blown away by the beauty of the first glimpse on the Appalachian Mountains. Bucolic Virginia is scattered with hills, mountains and meadows populated by cows, farms, barns, horses, donkeys and the occasional lama. You feel it? Right, so how hard can it be to give yourself a hard time, to take it easy? Indeed, tremendously hard for me.

Day 2 on the TransAmTrail, I have a rendez-vous with the Blue Ridge Parkway, a breathtaking ridge-stretch, but a monster to cyclists. I vividly relived crossing the Alps on my '09 Antwerp-Venice trip, and this one, I decided to do without water ... 
Due to a minor-miscalculation I missed the last village in which I could refill so no hydration for me on this one, not even in the visitor center, which does not open for season till May. OK so here we go, I climb and climb, that lowest gear putting some challenge on me, on what seems to be the Appalachian Trail for bikers. Cut the story short, the Appalachians are killing me softly. On top of that, I have some monthly girl-issues going on. I am not feeling happy, at all, the breathtaking overlooks do not get the attention of me they deserve. In maddening thirst I can barely withhold myself from catering on icicles and preventing any water-born illness to break into my body. And there's just no end to it, this ridge will go up and up, forever. Meanwhile passing cars wave at me in admiration and encouragement, while all I want to do is throw a rock in their windscreen.
At last, magically, I am relieved from the ridge and come, at the pied du mont, to the conclusion it's only 18.5 more miles to my WarmShower. 18.5 miles!! This day was a neat lesson in theory-of-relativity and anger-management. Luckily my lust for life was resparked by the incredible sweet WarmShower hosts I stayed the night with. Like it all never happened.