Oita charity bike ride (or why my legs don't really work this week)

Last Friday was the vernal equinox, the first day of Spring. In keeping with the well justified Japanese reverence for the season it was a national holiday, and thus a three day weekend. Another Kumamoto JET named Nick connected me to the Oita charity ride that spanned the weekend, and around 300 km of roads through Oita prefecture (2 hours east of Kumamoto prefecture where I live). Thank you to the relatives who are donating money toward the Indian village where I'll be working in a month for this trip. To make a long story short, it was both awesome and tough. To make a short story long, here's a more detailed account:

I put 3 pairs of underwear, 3 pairs of socks, a small towel, a pocketknife, flashlight, mp3 player, compact book (Battlestar Galactica), sunscreen, toothbrush and toothpaste into my backpack and headed down the bike path to Kumamoto after dinner Thursday evening. Made it to the bike shop before closing and got a tune-up for the ride, and bought special bike shorts for the trip and a water bottle holder to mount on the frame. Turns out you ride commando in bike shorts, so more than one pair of underwear wasn't really necessary. Met up with Nick after that, he dismantled my bike and somehow fit it in his K-car along with the two of us, his girlfriend Mari and his own bike. On the two hour drive east through the mountains to Oita we celebrated our shared nerd heritage by discussing Starcraft battle strategies. Arrived in Oita late that night and met Joe, our leader for the trip, and the other people in our biking party (there were nine of us altogether). Joe has the coziest feeling house I've stayed in for a while, it felt like being back in a real American home. Well insulated and warm, made mostly from logs, lots of personal style touches from an Alaskan native that immediately separated it from the more sparse Japanese style homes one grows accustomed to.

Early the next morning (Friday) we headed out of Joe's in cars, and met with the rest of the 40+ group of riders at a park. Re-assembled the bikes, discussed the routes (I determined to just stay as close to Joe as possible) and started riding. I didn't realize until after we started that there were volunteer cars that would take our bags to the evening's destination while we rode, so spent the first day with my pack on my back. Immediately discovered that the people I was riding with were far stronger than me. The day proved to be sunny and beautiful, despite less optimistic forecasts from the weather report. We started climbing into the mountains, while I realized my time spent riding on the level bike path and suburban roads around Ueki hadn't prepared me for this trip. But the group kept a moderate pace, the scenery was beautiful and riding down the other side of a hill after climbing it on a warm day is one of the greatest joys in life. Plus the trees were starting to bloom everywhere.

Everyone ended up at a campground in northern Oita that night and slept in two large cabins, trading stories with the other volunteers, only two of whom I had ever met before since I was in a different prefecture.

Second day, Saturday, was clear blue skies and balmy weather, and a long but relatively level route. Stopped in a charming village with an open onsen underneath a bridge, then our team took a buffet restaurant for all it was worth. The place would be out of business in a day with more visitors like us. After hitting the roads again, our team of nine practiced riding in a tight line, keeping a steady pace, cutting the wind for each other and rotating out the leader to the back of the line. Got to know the other members of my biking team better as we rode for kilometers next to each other talking. Guy traveled the world for years, Jemma was pursuing her PhD in ergonomics, Joe was a former world-champion Shotokan karate tournament fighter.

In the Spring farmers burn the dead residue from the winter to prepare for a new season of growth, so the air was filled with ash and the hills were literally on fire. We breathed through our noses and were fine. A mountaintop view of miles and miles of burning fields bordering flowering trees and green valleys made for a striking image. The longest uphill climb I had yet known (where beastial cries of victory welled up inside me and escaped my chapped lips at the crest of the hill) was followed by the most exhilarating downhill coast that took me to the end of the day's route. Dipped into the nearby onsen with the other dudes, letting the cold bath work its magic on sore muscles. That night we all stayed in a collection of smaller cabins, wolfing down curry rice and a few beers, recounting the days' struggles and scenery, sharing exhaustion and the satisfaction of finishing another days' ride

Third day, Sunday. Brutal day. As forecasted the day turned cold and heavy rain fell from 9am onward, to accompany the most grueling ride of the weekend. Within minutes we were soaked to the bone, commando-style bike shorts clinging and chafing with each pedal stroke, shoes filled like squishy buckets with cold, heavy water, squinting through rain-streaked sunglasses to see the gray road as passing trucks splashed us and wet grates threatened to introduce us to the pavement at 40 km/hr. After climbing innumerable switchbacks of a mountain and losing the rest of our body heat from the wet wind coasting down the opposite side, we stopped for lunch at a deliciously warm noodle shop. Poured the water out of our shoes, wrung out our socks, gloves and clothes, dried as much as we could with newspaper and sat our soggy butts down on additional newspaper sheets. All the while making quite the gaijin spectacle in the small-town shop

After refueling with a big bowl loaded with hot Champon (noodles, vegetables and tons of pork and seafood), donned our damp gear and got back out in the rain. Shortly it became clear that the ladies of our party were done riding for the day, so Joe (our leader) led the group to a nearby onsen where they could warm up and relax, while the five guys pushed on to finish the last leg of the journey. Of these five I was far and away the slowest, and soon fell behind as we climbed in our lowest gear up a constant grade 8 road winding up a forest ridge. This hill made yesterday's climbs look almost cute. Trying to catch up with the other four superhumans, I kept pedaling up the path until my legs quit about three quarters of the way up and I sort of fell over. Drank some water, threw back a pack of fruit snacks, and got back on, feeling a slightly worrisome sharp pain in my right knee. Just as I got going a white k-truck coming the other way stopped and an old lady got out, handing me two hard candies shaped like cartoon feet. Maybe it was karma from helping clear that tree out of the road for a similar lady so many months ago. The candies tasted like some curious mixture of ginger and brown tea and filled me with magical energy, and I strained onward.

It was near the top (though I didn't yet know it because of the tree cover) when I started talking to myself, mixtures of muttered cursings and self-encouragement, with a few snatches of old soul songs ("Ooh Lord, I've traveled so far...") thrown in. Then suddenly I turned a corner and the road disappeared over a crest, no longer rising. The feeling was probably comparable to finally reaching heaven after an eternity spent in limbo rolling a boulder up an endless hill. This epic quest within my mind was a fun little race up a hill to the other four, of course. Nick and Guy were in the distance riding back to check on me, and the three of us went back to Joe's house, got changed into warm, ridiculous clothes (tiny pink shorts and a suave white button-up for me, a spandex wrestlers' uniform for Guy, and a flannel coat with surfing shorts for Nick). After wiping the grit and mud off the bikes, the three of us headed toward the nearby thatch-roofed onsen and lowered ourselves tenderly into the healing waters, turning curious Japanese patrons' heads with sharp gasps of pain and unabashed moans of pleasure.

Thank you to the friends and family who supported the trip! It was incredibly challenging and equally rewarding, but I can't wait to get in better shape and go on more of these tours. Joe leads similar trips around Kyushu for a living these days, so he's a good man to know. And some of the kids looked at me like a lesser Lance Armstrong when I told them my tale at lunch on Monday, though most just made fun of the fact that I couldn't really walk straight for a few days.