Cassandra: I was up in Bellingham this weekend, so mom and I were able to ride together again. We had big ambitions ... instead of following the tulip route again (this time to actually see tulips instead of just daffodils) we decided to both increase our mileage and head north, away from all of the tulip traffic. Mom chose the route after seeing it on a flyer at the bike shop this week. We had three options: 25 miles, 50 miles, and 62 miles. We chose the 62 mile route. Like I said, we had big ambitions.

The route on our flyer actually started down by the waterfront in Bellingham but we decided to bike from the house instead, which would take on a few additional miles. I wanted an early start time because of the distance we would be going. Mom didn't want to wake up too early since it was the weekend, so we compromised on 8:30 am. Our preparations were the same as normal (filling our water bottles, pumping up our tires, etc.) except we added one step to our routine. Butt butter. Mom had gotten sample packets at the bike shop last week and decreed that it was time to try this "magical product" that so many of her biker friends were talking about. Chafing can be a big issue when you are biking for hours at a time, so both of us were curious to see if the butt butter would reduce our issues as promised. Now, we ride without underwear anyways, to reduce chafing, but it still felt a little odd to slap on a big old handful of that butt butter, slide up our pants, and then get on the bike.

But get on our bikes we did. All was good as we flew down Cedar Hills and Oriental. Until we got onto Lakeway and mom dropped her doggie mace, for the first of many times. We had to stop our bikes while she went back into the road and retrieved it. And then we were off again. We zoomed for another ... oh, about half mile, until I saw something fly out from under mom's bike. It was a black bike part, and mom wasn't stopping, so I yelled, "Stop!" at the top of my lungs so she would hear me. Well, she thought I had fallen off of my bike or something and stopped so hard her back tire came up into the air and smacked her. It was about the funniest thing I have seen since our training began. It was funnier yet when we realized we were only about a mile and a half from home, the bike part wasn't even off her bike, and her tire had gone up into the air and come down so hard that it threw the chain off of her bike. We had to figure out how to put the chain back on and were laughing so hard it was tough to get anything done. Mom ended up with grease stains on her hands and we set off again, this time luckily for a longer distance.

Our ride through Bellingham was pretty. We weaved through the city streets under a blue sky and a sun that warmed us through our layers. I saw neighborhoods that I had never seen before, with parks that had gone by unnoticed throughout the time I lived up there. As we neared downtown we got to see the beginning of a 5k run, which was neat. And then we were dodging runners and trying to find a way to the water that wasn't on their path.

We eventually found our way and started heading north towards Ferndale. Most of our riding was done on roads that had either bike lanes or a generous shoulder or were infrequently traveled by cars. The views were beautiful. We pedaled through fields and past old barns and some very expensive homes. We also saw the opposite, though, too, pedaling through Bellingham's own Marietta trailer village, where all of the trailers were falling apart. It looked like some backwoods bayou village. There were boats everywhere, just resting on the ground, and boat fenders up in the trees. The whole place could have, in some other time and place, been quaint, if it weren't for everything falling down and looking like garbage. Mom had her doggie mace ready as we nervously looked this way and that for unchained and aggressive dogs.

We continued north on our quest, winding through more fields on our way to downtown Ferndale. Once in Ferndale proper, it became apparent that our map skills were questionable. Or, as we preferred to think, our map wasn't always clear. I accidentally took us the wrong way, and then we spent a bit of time searching for the right road further north. We couldn't find it for the life of us and finally had to ask directions from an attendant at an auto parts store.

After getting back on track we thought it would be smooth sailing, but we actually had just entered a more difficult part of our ride. It seemed like there were hills everywhere we rode. Some were small and rolling. Others seemed to go on forever. We wound our way north to Birch Bay, huffing and puffing up hills. Mom was having significant left knee pain, which was exacerbated on the hills, so our pace slowed a bit. At this point, all I wanted was lunch. The miles started creeping by as we headed out by Semiahmoo and took in the beautiful, but hilly, views. All I could think about was a cheeseburger, a big and juicy cheeseburger.

That image kept me going as we finally rode into Birch Bay and found a cafe to have lunch. We did order our cheeseburgers and took about a 30 minute rest before getting on our bikes again. We figured the way home would be a breeze, since the map seemed pretty clear about the path we needed to take and we were over half-way through with our miles. It took us a while, though, to fall back into an easy rhythm. I think we just hadn't eaten enough food to replenish what we were burning.

I nearly took us the wrong way again, and then we got on a long stretch where we weren't going to have to turn for a while. We relaxed, playing leapfrog down hills and passing random joggers out for a country run. It seemed like we rode for quite a while, and then suddenly we were at I-5. I, having lots of misplaced faith in our map, figured we just needed to go further to find our next turn, on Rainbow Road. But mom, knowing the area better, said we were way too far. We looked at the map and found out that, yes, we had gotten lost again. Somehow, we had missed our turn. By this point we had gone quite a long ways on our bikes, more than 55 miles. To find out that we were lost again could have gotten us upset. We were getting more tired and more ready to be done with the ride. But instead, we just threw up our hands and laughed. We had a good, hard laugh about the whole situation. And then we went into a roadside 7-11, bought more Gatorade, and improvised a new path back to Bellingham.

We found our way back to Ferndale and the last place we had gotten majorly lost and stopped for a break. We rehydrated and ate some more Lara bars and raisins and suddenly our ride was really looking up. It was like we had really needed those calories, and once we got them, our bodies were so much more willing to take us the rest of the way home. And home we went. We pedaled the last few miles back to the waterfront and met Rich at the dock where our boat is kept. He had just finished a sail boat race in perfect time to load our bikes into the back of the truck and drive these tired bikers back home. We knew it was an indulgence, but after biking 68 miles (yep, you read that right, 68 miles!!) we figured we deserved it. Well, that and more snacks and a good hot tub.

Overall, it was a great ride. Mom and I were still very well matched with regards to our pace and overall tolerance for riding, and it was evident that we were both improved from our previous rides.

It is clear that we are getting to be stronger and smarter bikers, which is really encouraging. But more than that, we are learning to take everything in stride that comes with getting stronger and smarter, mainly getting lost and getting tired and pushing up hills even when we don't want to. I'm proud of all of that stuff. But what I'm super proud of, more than anything else, is the fact that we are laughing our way through this thing we call training for the STP. As long as we can still laugh, no 204-mile ride is going to kick our butts.