Four Hours

was how long it took to ride from Provo to Nephi. We left around one o’clock, dressed in jerseys and shorts, with our bikes between our knees. We had planned most of the trip, but avoided knowing every turn. Cory had our maps for the day in his jersey pocket, and we each carried a backpack with a tarp, blanket, and some other necessities. Friends had been taking bets all week on how far we would get before we turned around from fatigue or cowardice, and we spent the first few miles of the ride prematurely reveling in our triumph, and the “I-told-you-so”s that we would soon be saying.

Leaving the house we still needed to pick up a few things, and stopped at the bike shop to pump up our tires and buy them. I managed to fall off of my bike within 50 yards of the house, forgetting that I was clipped in and falling over comically. We trusted ourselves to providence, though, and headed south, following our fairly complicated map and sucking down water and Clif bars as we rode. The miles slid away that day, and we took turns leading as we rode at a light clip through Springville, then Spanish Fork, the Payson, and to Nephi. When we arrived in the town we found first the chapel where we planned to sleep, then made our next order to find food. We found the chamber of commerce populated by a Weight Watchers meeting, and the small pizza place that they directed us to staffed by teenagers with little motivation. Tough to blame them, living in Nephi.

Night came late, it was nearly ten o’clock when the sun finally disappeared, and the weather stayed warm and breezy. We returned to our things at the chapel, and found a couple patrolling the grounds, but felt too shy to speak to them, and they didn’t want to confront us either. After an hour or so of awkwardness, they left to their homes, and we lay down to try to sleep, worried that the sprinklers would turn on and soak us in our sleep. Sleeping on slanted grass is nice in the afternoon, but less pleasant at night, even when the weather is warm. When the sprinklers turned on near where we were, Blake and I woke up, grabbed our tarps and blankets and ran to where we knew had already been watered. Cory laughed at us for our haste, walking casually to where we already were laying, and laid down nearby.

The wind seemed to be on the attack right where we were, on a small decline against a chain link fence, and I fell asleep curled tightly in my white blanket. When I woke, Cory and Blake had both retreated to the concrete pad with the air conditioning units. I slept for a little longer, but the wind whipped my blanket on my legs and I followed suit. The concrete was hard, but at least it was quiet. All three of us slept in short intervals, finally deciding to stand up when the sun broke the horizon, changing back into our riding clothes and packing up our bags.