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The mystery of it rather gnaws at me. I do too feel some shame. I should have put in a lot more miles back when the days were long. But I've been thinking on it; today some things went right. I'm not always in full control. Below I list some advantages in the hope that I learn from them.
*My day off might just have done me some good. I wasn't so sure at the time. I just felt lazy. Maybe that guilt got me moving again. And moving quickly. I had a nice rhythm and was up at a four-mile pace.
*It's cold, damned cold, and as cold often will, it's lit a fire under my ass. It has been so warm these last two weeks that I'd come to take it for granted. In spite of myself. I did know better. Now I have got to get south. My little computer tells me that on Wednesday next it will drop to thirty degrees. Which would kill a lesser man. Even I'm bound to get cranky.
*I weren't sleepy. I got a full nine hours last night, which is only two short of the ideal.
*It was windy. That limits my breaks. It takes the fun out of sitting down. It is no less restful to keep moving. When I stop I just get cold. Usually, two miles into any walk I get a powerful urge to sit down. Today I could overcome it.
*I started early. Not very early. I slept until well past seven. But I did not much monkey around in packing up my gear. It wasn't such a very good spot. I was right on the edge the road. I was not assured of privacy, and so was not tempted to linger. You don't want people watching you fold your tent. It's an intimate procedure.
*I took drugs. Aspirin or such. I started the day with a toothache. But they did the rest of me good, as well. I believe I'll take more tomorrow. That meth kid I met could walk 150 miles at a stretch, but I bet I'm better at math.
*I had a very big lunch. For a while there I was thinking very big breakfasts were the key to success. Now I wonder if lunches aren't better. Today I had a meatloaf sandwich. The meatloaf was grilled and was great. I prefer my mother's meatloaf, but if you tried to grill it, it would fall apart. They must put something else in it. If I'd thought of it I would have asked.
*I had cheesecake for dessert, with cherries on top. Cheesecake is practically pie. Pie is Nature's Perfect Food. I haven't seen much pie on the road. I think I may be getting into pie country. It seems to be more widely available. One day, just as a test, I won't eat anything but pie. Breakfast, lunch and dinner: pie. I bet I walk forty miles.
*The few people I met were nice to me. That always seems to help. I have a few gifts but I rely on others to do my positive thinking.
*It was threatening to rain. But didn't. It gave me something to worry about. And for about ten miles the shoulder was no narrow I thought I'd surely be killed. These things keep me distracted from the odd pain in my toes.
But who knows how tomorrow will go. I hoping it goes just as well. Thirty degrees scares the hell out of me. I'm pretty sure I won't freeze. But it could very well take a lot of the fun out of Walking Across America.
This morning I had coffee in Atlanta; Atlanta, Missouri, that is. The gas station lady was friendly and blonde. A lot of the gals down here are. She gave me the coffee on the house. It was mighty decent of her. And I got a map of the state, courtesy of the MDOT. I still don't know where I'm going but, hell, I'll figure it out.
Ten more miles took me to Macon; Macon, Missouri, that is. It is home to five-thousand souls. My lunch waitress was friendly and blonde. She could see into my soul.
"I'm Walking Across America," I explained.
"Gosh, that must be great!"
"Well..." I started to say.
"No responsibilities!"
And there you have it. She was not being unkind. She just has an eye for Truth. You've got to be lazy and self-indulgent to take this kind of walk. I explained that nobody really loved me and that's why I'm more or less free.
"I thought so!" she said. God bless her pure heart. God take pity on me.
He did send some Mormon missionaries. They're always so shiny and clean. But if I were a Mormon I'd be pissed if they sent me to Macon, Missouri. It's a fine town, I'm sure of it, but I'd want to go somewhere else. Africa, maybe, or Uruguay. Hell, even France. They must have drawn the short straw or something. Poor, squeaky-cheeked bastards.
They were polite and kind. Mormons always are. That's one of their rules. They offered me one of their books but I had to turn them down. I didn't want to hurt their feelings but I've got luggage enough. And I can't do much reading out here. And I think their religion is silly.
At least as silly as other religions. It is suspiciously new. Most of the really good voodoo is at least a thousand years old. I think, though, they may be on to something with the magic underwear. It is cold now and getting colder. I bet they're all toasty warm.
I've still got my thermals. They'll have to do. And my computer has been wrong before. And I am less than fifty miles from Columbia. They say it's warmer down there.
"Except when it's colder," one good woman explained. God bless her pure heart.
I SAW ANOTHER one of those furry little rugby ball beasties. I still can't say what it was. Until I am contradicted I will think of it as a James weasel.
I SAW TOO a deer, being chased across the freeway by, I swear to golly, a white wolf. But they were pretty far off. But it was white. I don't know if they have wolves in Missouri. I wouldn't guess so. But it was either a big wolf or a very small horse. I'd rather it was a horse since I saw it from my tent. Arooo.
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