9/29/2014
My legs were wrapped throughout the night for maintenance. It has become a ritual. Salt or alcohol bath at night to sooth and replenish the tired muscles, circular massage with sports cream, then a moment to unwind and let everything dry. I eat plenty of protein within thirty minutes after I call it the day. My dinners are a high carbohydrate affair. After writing my blog, being social on social media, and returning emails, I pass out. When I open my eyes everything begins all over again.
The days are uncomfortable at times but would I be any more comfortable sitting in an air conditioned room? I just know that at the end of every day, when I get a little taste of success, the pain is forgotten. Only a sense of accomplishment remains.
Benson to Tombstone was one road. Nothing else. No twists. No turns. I did witness the border patrol on duty though. A helicopter descended right next to me and an officer jumped out of his Chevy Suburban and tracked what I presume was a Mexican National aka an illegal immigrant. The guy looked like he hadn’t bathed for days and his shirt and pants were ripped. It was like Bruce Banner’s clothes right after being the Hulk. The sound of the chopper blades were similar to the sound of grasshopper wings except for the deafening volume.
After that, as I approached Tombstone I noticed the people becoming less friendly. One guy in a sliver VW bug honked at me. When I waved at him he flipped me the bird. What was that about? Then less than a mile from my destination a biker gang crept up from behind me and one guy revved his engine loudly while passing. It did cause me to jump. But once I reached Tombstone I knew I could rest. Tomorrow would be a new day.
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