My sister has always been something of an endurance fiend:  When she was a junior in high school, she rode her bike (fully loaded) across the United States, and a few years ago, she completed her first Ironman.  She also went through ten hours or so of natural childbirth.

She was instrumental in our packing process and has also provided some crucial words of advice along the way.  Most recently:  “It’s not a bike trip until someone throws a helmet.  Or her bike.”

Biking is tough and it’s as much about your mental state as it is about your physical fitness.

On this trip, I know for a fact that Mollie was better prepared from a physical perspective:  In the months leading up to the trip, she put in multiple 75-100 milers, went to spin, yoga, body buffing classes every morning, and kept right on exercising even after she strained her groin muscle in an epic crash.  My longest ride, on the other hand, was about 40 miles–and that was by accident.  I ran/walked with my dog Charlie a few days a week and put in about two 25-30 mile rides each week.

But I had done this sort of thing before–granted, it was years ago (so many, many years ago), but I could reach back and recall days on the road when I wanted to cry (or did cry), days when five miles more seemed impossible, and days when I questioned why oh why I wanted to be pedaling my way through Vermont of all places.  Couldn’t I have picked somewhere flatter?  I have also run a marathon–on a stress fracture.  And I’m not sure anything will ever top that experience from a mental toughness perspective.

On this trip, I was proud of Mollie.  She is, admittedly, not the most zen of people.  In fact, she recently went to Canyon Ranch to try to find inner peace–which lasted all of three minutes.  But on this trip–helmet throwing incident aside–Mollie persevered and, at times, transcended the hills.

In every town we’ve stopped in, there has been at least one person who has gone above and beyond:  In Philadelphia, an auto repair shop tech gave Mollie his cell phone number, and the receptionist at the Palomar, which was booked for the night, attempted to find us a room at another hotel.  In Purcellville, Trail’s End bike shop owner John Carter made us coffee, plotted a new route, and printed out a fresh cue sheet. And in Barboursville, when we were stuck at the winery, the receptionist at the Clifton Inn offered to pick us up if we couldn’t find a taxi who would make the 20 minute trek.

Most recently, we received this email from Nick Evans, a geologist with a passion for cycling:

I rode my bike over through Barboursville & by Somerset store (twice) this afternoon late after raking hay, and that’s when it occurred to me I had forgotten to get back in touch with you with route maps and the like.  Now I find out you were out there on the same roads earlier, probably sitting around drinking wine while I was doing my ride (in this terrible weather we’ve been having.)  If I could figure out how to use this damn Twitter stuff on my phone I’d offer you a ride to Clifton Inn.

I wonder if maybe you’re staying at my house tomorrow night & no one told me about it  (there really aren’t that many places to stay in Barboursville).  If you’re still stuck at the Barboursville Winery when you get this message, you might as well give up and stay the night.  Alternatively you could call me up and maybe I’d rescue you.

We’re hoping to meet up with Nick on Friday, when we ride out to Fredericksburg, but his email made us feel all warm and gooey inside, just knowing someone was out there following us, worrying about us, wondering how he might be able to help.

At the ready with a toolbox, tire patch kit, and homebaked cookies

Last night, after our lovely meal at the Inn at Little Washington, which began with truffled parmesan popcorn and ended with a paper dollhouse box filled with chocolates and cookies, Geraldine looked at my scrunched forehead and laughed. She knew what I was thinking: I was still feeling uber-guilty about not riding, not to mention the added guilt from having my parents (as happy as I was to see them) unexpectedly showing up to support us. I know that I toe the line between funny-helpless and real-helpless and I hate when I feel like I am on the wimp end of the spectrum. “Where do you get all this guilt from?,” she asked.

Who knows.

But last night, as we updated our various friends and supporters about our day and admitted, sheepishly, that we had missed another day of riding, the responses were wonderfully understanding.

From my friend Philip, who did his own bike tour from Seattle to San Francisco: “I think making your tour a mixed-media transportation situation is a good decision. Bikes…cars…they are very similar. You’ve been on a train, too, right? See if you can involve a bus, maybe a sleigh, a carriage…the motorcycles seemed promising!”

From Rob, who has also been helping us with routes from his office in Manhattan: “You’re doing great–just a nice break, stretch the legs, and you’ll be on the road for real.”

And from our new best friend, Stephen Bilenky: “Well the best thing is to take breaks so you can explore and rebuild your muscles – that way you can get stronger and can even start to go faster ( like 12 mph!). Hopefully you can go at your pace and don’t have to be any where by a certain date.”

12mph? Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. On to Culpeper!

Stephen Bilenky and company star in our short video. They’re naturals!

A few months back, we reached out to the Philadelphia-based Bilenky Cycle Works after reading about them in Bicycling magazine. We had our eye on their steel frame Midlands Touring bike, designed for long rides and heavy loads. In all honesty, we had low expectations. But Stephen Bilenky completely surprised us…

We were already fans of designer Lauren Moffatt’s vintage-inspired dresses and well-cut jackets, but when we found out she had lived on a sailboat in the Hudson for six years, well we knew we had found a soul mate. She totally gets it: clothes should be fun and beautiful but also easy and versatile. Right before heading off on our two-week adventure we made a trip to her Manhattan studio to check out some of her Fall 2009 collection. She is generously letting us test-drive two of her fantastic “Too Good to Be True” bomber jackets – the thick felt will keep us warm and the bright plaid lining makes us happy. Check out this clip of Lauren talking about her designs.

Early Bird Granola is the ultimate salty-sweet combo

I take my granola very seriously. No super sugary blends, and definitely none of that flabby half-toasted stuff. I want the real thing: slow baked and crisp, with plenty of texture and a bit of sweetness. I had given up on finding the perfect mix until I happened upon Nekisia Davis’s Early Bird granola at the Brooklyn Flea. It’s far and away the best granola I have ever had – an oh-so-sophisticated blend of oats, pecans, coconut flakes, and pumpkin and sesame seeds that gets a slightly caramelized flavor from maple syrup and brown sugar. But what really makes Nekisia’s version truly amazing, is her genius use of olive oil and sea salt. The salt kicks it over the edge into dangerously addictive territory.

Nekisia still makes all the granola herself in a Brooklyn commercial kitchen, and sells it through pedigreed local shops like Brooklyn Larder and Murray’s Cheese. But with everyone from the NYT’s Melissa Clark to Martha Stewart singing its praises, her granola is in high demand. I tried to recreate the granola a couple weekends ago using her recipe but it wasn’t quite as good as the original – luckily Nekisia hooked us up with a couple bags for the road. That is, if I don’t eat them first. Check out the recipe after the jump. (more…)

Nathalie is one of those enviable people who dives head-first into new adventures without hesitation. She’s already had more amazing/weird/bizarre/incredible life experiences in her 20-odd years than most of us will have in our entire lives.

John Currence, of Mississippi’s City Grocery, Snackbar, Boure, and Big Bad Breakfast, is one of our all-time favorite southern chefs. We can’t wait to visit him in Oxford but for now he’s sent us a suggestion for our Virginia leg.