America's Best Inn
I'm sitting in the lobby of America's Best Inn in Portsmouth. I'm sitting in the lobby because that's the only place with internet access. Funny. We've stayed in some of America's not so great hotels and there was internet access in the rooms. So I'm thinking that "best" may be hyperbole.
But who cares? Tomorrow I'll be sleeping in my own bed. TOMORROW I'LL BE SLEEPING IN MY OWN BED. With my wife! Tomorrow I will not be sitting on a bike seat for 6 hours. Tomorrow I will not look in the mirror and see bugs on my face. I will not have layers and layers of sun screen and road grime on my arms and legs. Tomorrow I can sleep until 6:30! (The day after, even later.) Tomorrow I will not smear bag balm on my butt. Tomorrow I will not wear spandex. Tomorrow my bicycle will be in a bag all day long and it won't matter. Tomorrow I will not eat underseasoned lasagna or overcooked pasta or iceberg lettuce. Tomorrow I will make pesto for dinner with fresh crusty bread and tomatoes, mozarella, and basil, and eastern shore cantaloupe, and anything else I want. Tomorrow I will be an ordinary civilian, not one of the America by Bicycle endurance athletes. Tomorrow I will not have to endure anything except a one-hour plane ride to Dulles. Woo hoo!
We finished our cross-country trek today. We were escorted to Rye Junior High School by 5 PIH cyclists wearing their new PIH shirts. That was so cool. My step sisters-in-law and brother-in-law also gave us an incredibly warm welcome at the school. Then, they all headed to Rye beach while we were escorted by police to Rye Beach. When we got to the ocean, we all got giddy. We took pictures of the ocean, and pictures of each other, and pictures of each other taking pictures of the ocean. The smell of salt infused the air. We were very tangibly not in South Dakota any more. We could see and hear the waves crashing onto the beach. The sun was shining, there was a cool sea breeze, and life was just wonderful. Then we got to the beach and 15 PIH people were standing and cheering, some holding signs saying, "Thank you Len and Paul." Paul and I were just overwhelmed. Dozens of other people were cheering their friends and loved ones. Two people who were injured and had to drop out after the first day also showed up to cheer us on. It was amazing.
I got to meet people from PIH who I knew only from email and phone correspondence. They presented Paul and me with framed pictures with little thank you notes and a hand-written note from Paul Farmer. We also got our own cool PIH t-shirts. The director of PIH's Haitian operations told us how much good your contributions will do in Haiti and thanked us. Paul and I thanked all the PIH people for the amazing work that they do. I felt a little guilty that our arrival was single-handedly bringing PIH operations to a stand-still, but our new friends promised that they would make up the work tonight. (I noted that they might be good candidates to replace my Tax Policy Center colleagues who have gotten into the habit of working six hours a day and taking two hour lunches while I have been gone.) Paul took the SAG van to the bike shop to arrange to ship his bike back home. (He didn't throw it in the ocean.) On my way out of the parking lot, I called Missie, and then sort of lost it. I was pretty overwhelmed. Then I road 7 more miles to America's Best Inn (which, as it turns out, is not in the best part of Portsmouth, another paradox) and packed up my bike for my trip home tomorrow.
Downtown Portsmouth is about 1.5 miles from America's Best Inn. I walked there to look for presents to take home, but ran into a fellow cyclist, Fritz, who was looking for a drinking companion. Since I'm not cycling tomorrow, and since Fritz has this endearing habit of plopping a c-note down on the bar to pay for his and his drinking companions' drinks, I acquiesced. Sorry about those presents. (Stores in Portsmouth close early.) We talked about law (Fritz was a high-powered anti-trust lawyer in his day) and tax policy and other, more fun kinds of vacations. It was great. After a while, I left Fritz to have his dinner and shopped a bit. Then Paul came downtown with Brian, small Paul, and Brian's girlfriend and we went out for Mexican food--a place recommended by another cyclist. This guy probably liked the lasagna too. The food was okay, but not exciting, but we were sitting by the river and could smell the ocean. The weather was great. Nothing could ruin this day. After a final celebratory ice cream, I sent the pups home and went searching for more shopping options without success. Navigating my way home in the dark after 2 hefeweissens and 2 large margaritas was something of an adventure. I did have the presence of mind to know that I should restrict my weaving to the sidewalks (which are a little hard to find in Portsmouth--sidewalks on both sides of the street are costly and Portsmouth, like the rest of NH, has no tax base). Road signs are also few and far between (refer to previous parenthetical about the tax base).
PS: the last few days of cycling were wonderful. I had forgotten how much I like New England--the cute small towns, the beautiful rolling hills, the smell of lush pine forests everywhere. The woods were lovely, dark and deep. I didn't even much mind the steep hills. (Fritz said that we climbed 6,800 feet yesterday, which, if correct, would be the most climbing we had done on the trip.) Although my legs were a little tired from a week of uninterrupted cycling, I felt pretty strong. I would not have even minded the extra ten miles I inadvertently tacked onto yesterday's ride after lunch, except that it meant that I was very late to meet Norma and Rick in Manchester. (I will say that after cycling 8 or so centuries in the past 7 weeks, I had no urge at all to add four miles to yesterday's extended ride to make one more.) (By the way, if New Hampshire had an income tax, they could afford street signs and route indicators so that I could have gotten a clue in much less than five miles that I was off course.)
If you haven't already done so, now would be a good time to send your check, made out to Partners In Health, to my home address: Len Burman, 825 N. Fillmore St., Arlington, VA 22201. You can also contribute online at www.pih.org.
Okay, given my impaired cognitive state, I have no idea whether this ramble makes any sense, so I'm going to stop. I will note that it is 10:35--way after dark--and I am still awake. How cool is that?
Thanks for your support, which meant a lot to Paul and me while we were cycling across country.
Cheers,
Len
But who cares? Tomorrow I'll be sleeping in my own bed. TOMORROW I'LL BE SLEEPING IN MY OWN BED. With my wife! Tomorrow I will not be sitting on a bike seat for 6 hours. Tomorrow I will not look in the mirror and see bugs on my face. I will not have layers and layers of sun screen and road grime on my arms and legs. Tomorrow I can sleep until 6:30! (The day after, even later.) Tomorrow I will not smear bag balm on my butt. Tomorrow I will not wear spandex. Tomorrow my bicycle will be in a bag all day long and it won't matter. Tomorrow I will not eat underseasoned lasagna or overcooked pasta or iceberg lettuce. Tomorrow I will make pesto for dinner with fresh crusty bread and tomatoes, mozarella, and basil, and eastern shore cantaloupe, and anything else I want. Tomorrow I will be an ordinary civilian, not one of the America by Bicycle endurance athletes. Tomorrow I will not have to endure anything except a one-hour plane ride to Dulles. Woo hoo!
We finished our cross-country trek today. We were escorted to Rye Junior High School by 5 PIH cyclists wearing their new PIH shirts. That was so cool. My step sisters-in-law and brother-in-law also gave us an incredibly warm welcome at the school. Then, they all headed to Rye beach while we were escorted by police to Rye Beach. When we got to the ocean, we all got giddy. We took pictures of the ocean, and pictures of each other, and pictures of each other taking pictures of the ocean. The smell of salt infused the air. We were very tangibly not in South Dakota any more. We could see and hear the waves crashing onto the beach. The sun was shining, there was a cool sea breeze, and life was just wonderful. Then we got to the beach and 15 PIH people were standing and cheering, some holding signs saying, "Thank you Len and Paul." Paul and I were just overwhelmed. Dozens of other people were cheering their friends and loved ones. Two people who were injured and had to drop out after the first day also showed up to cheer us on. It was amazing.
I got to meet people from PIH who I knew only from email and phone correspondence. They presented Paul and me with framed pictures with little thank you notes and a hand-written note from Paul Farmer. We also got our own cool PIH t-shirts. The director of PIH's Haitian operations told us how much good your contributions will do in Haiti and thanked us. Paul and I thanked all the PIH people for the amazing work that they do. I felt a little guilty that our arrival was single-handedly bringing PIH operations to a stand-still, but our new friends promised that they would make up the work tonight. (I noted that they might be good candidates to replace my Tax Policy Center colleagues who have gotten into the habit of working six hours a day and taking two hour lunches while I have been gone.) Paul took the SAG van to the bike shop to arrange to ship his bike back home. (He didn't throw it in the ocean.) On my way out of the parking lot, I called Missie, and then sort of lost it. I was pretty overwhelmed. Then I road 7 more miles to America's Best Inn (which, as it turns out, is not in the best part of Portsmouth, another paradox) and packed up my bike for my trip home tomorrow.
Downtown Portsmouth is about 1.5 miles from America's Best Inn. I walked there to look for presents to take home, but ran into a fellow cyclist, Fritz, who was looking for a drinking companion. Since I'm not cycling tomorrow, and since Fritz has this endearing habit of plopping a c-note down on the bar to pay for his and his drinking companions' drinks, I acquiesced. Sorry about those presents. (Stores in Portsmouth close early.) We talked about law (Fritz was a high-powered anti-trust lawyer in his day) and tax policy and other, more fun kinds of vacations. It was great. After a while, I left Fritz to have his dinner and shopped a bit. Then Paul came downtown with Brian, small Paul, and Brian's girlfriend and we went out for Mexican food--a place recommended by another cyclist. This guy probably liked the lasagna too. The food was okay, but not exciting, but we were sitting by the river and could smell the ocean. The weather was great. Nothing could ruin this day. After a final celebratory ice cream, I sent the pups home and went searching for more shopping options without success. Navigating my way home in the dark after 2 hefeweissens and 2 large margaritas was something of an adventure. I did have the presence of mind to know that I should restrict my weaving to the sidewalks (which are a little hard to find in Portsmouth--sidewalks on both sides of the street are costly and Portsmouth, like the rest of NH, has no tax base). Road signs are also few and far between (refer to previous parenthetical about the tax base).
PS: the last few days of cycling were wonderful. I had forgotten how much I like New England--the cute small towns, the beautiful rolling hills, the smell of lush pine forests everywhere. The woods were lovely, dark and deep. I didn't even much mind the steep hills. (Fritz said that we climbed 6,800 feet yesterday, which, if correct, would be the most climbing we had done on the trip.) Although my legs were a little tired from a week of uninterrupted cycling, I felt pretty strong. I would not have even minded the extra ten miles I inadvertently tacked onto yesterday's ride after lunch, except that it meant that I was very late to meet Norma and Rick in Manchester. (I will say that after cycling 8 or so centuries in the past 7 weeks, I had no urge at all to add four miles to yesterday's extended ride to make one more.) (By the way, if New Hampshire had an income tax, they could afford street signs and route indicators so that I could have gotten a clue in much less than five miles that I was off course.)
If you haven't already done so, now would be a good time to send your check, made out to Partners In Health, to my home address: Len Burman, 825 N. Fillmore St., Arlington, VA 22201. You can also contribute online at www.pih.org.
Okay, given my impaired cognitive state, I have no idea whether this ramble makes any sense, so I'm going to stop. I will note that it is 10:35--way after dark--and I am still awake. How cool is that?
Thanks for your support, which meant a lot to Paul and me while we were cycling across country.
Cheers,
Len
posted by Len Burman at 6:40 PM
1 Comments:
Congrats, Len!
While the compressed work schedule under Troy's regime has been fun, I must admit that we need our fearless leader back. I won't go into many details, but let's just say we're on the brink of destruction here. It involves maps, refrigerators, and George Bush dolls. We look forward to inundating you with our petty problems again, once you make it back into the office.
Elaine
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