The first week

30 minutes into the start of this trip, I felt as though the last five months had just disappeared. I finished 4200 miles last Thanksgiving and now I'm already back on the road. I'm having a hard time remembering what is real about my life. It seams like I have never gotten off the bike.
In one way, this is good because it only took me a few minutes to slip right back into my rhythm. But in another way, I don't feel or know if I have had any time off.
I sat on the side of the highway yesterday, eating a Poptart. Trucks slowly climbing the hill in their low gears. I felt like I could relate and wanted to clear them on. It's just an empty spot on the road, nothing around for miles, but I'm there. As my mind settled into the break, I could begin to feel not alone, but solitude. I could see myself from above, sitting there; and I began to zoom up and out. Farther and farther my mind got a birds eye view, like a Google satellite image.
I was a speck in the middle of a vast, dry, rugged, wilderness. I could see how insignificant I am. When I got back on the bike, my imagined importance roared back to give me strength. I felt victorious as the road squeezed under the tires.