Friday, August 27th - Day 55 - Running

Indianapolis Travel Blog

 › entry 28 of 40 › view all entries

A couple of things I neglected to mention in the last blog. Figured I'd take the time to mention them.


Regretably, I chose to miss the Barber Vintage Motorcycle Museum. To deviate and go to Birmingham from Atlanta near Leeds where the museum is, and THEN head to Nashville would have DOUBLED my on-bike time for the day AND gotten me into town even later.


I'm glad I chose to arrive earlier. I do wish I'd seen the Barber Museum, but like the Grand Canyon, it will remain for long enough that I can see it in my lifetime. Although I appreciate a lot of the places I've been, the trip has manifested periodically over the period and seems to be becoming more about the people and experiencs now. Just as it had changed from being about the ride. I suppose it's natural considering as social creatures, in the end, we tend to seek out fellowship. 


Even so, thanks to West Ky Guy from Sport-Touring.net for the suggestion. One day.


As well, something I wish I'd thought of eons ago to avoid the stank-on-ya that has become my riding pants, while on the interstate, I'm going bare-ass. Not naked, but sans riding gear (except the helmet. I'm hot, not crazy). The first day I tried it, I rode for as long as I could bare, but frequently I would think to my damaged rims, the milage on the bike, the possibility of shit going wrong and what I would feel and look like after sliding and rolling across 100 meters of pavement... I pulled into the nearest gas station and suited up.


It was like the transformation from man into werewolf. I became a demon on that bike. No longer timidly pulling along at 130 kmh, I was comfortably cruising at 160, pushing faster when I thought I could get away with it. I couldn't even control it. It felt ridiculous NOT going fast. Everything felt so insync, I was hitting everything that had the slightest bend with a touch of lean.


What's great about this is that I don't spend an hour and a half in slow moving traffic leaving the city or doing errands while geared up and sweating puddles in them. Had I thought of this in say, Alburquerque, things would be a lot different. Stink-wise. lol, thus comfort wise too I guess.


Anyway, in Nashville I arrived at my Apple Store appointment.  The phone was irreparably damaged. $200 for a new one that wouldn't even work due to US and Canadian Sim cards being different.


Got to my hostel, the Music City hostel, conveniently situated near Centeniall Park if I remember correctly. Gorgeous park with a parthenon and everything. Monument to a guy who built a railroad, a mile of running pavement. This was great. Especially considering that morning I had gone and done it; bought the running shoes.


Turns out, for the last 12 years I've been wearing the wrong shoes. I was supposed to be wearing a larger size to fit not just a fraction of an inch but nearly a full inch ("one thumb width") in front of my toe. So In an instant I go from a proportional size 13 to a 14. Now I realize girls see big shoes and they think a certain something, but this just looks ridiculous. However, it is quite comfortable. 


Didn't really get the salesman's logic, and this was in a real decent running store called Fast Break in Chattanooga, but he was making it sound like my shoes being shorter and being tied up so tight was causing me to run on bunched up toes. Not even the case. BUT the ball of my foot was potentially not where it was supposed to be in the shoe all these years, which was a bad thing for me.


Either that, or they had a lot of size 14's they were trying to get rid of near the end of the summer! But this guy had worn in, broken in runners, and sure as shit, he had a massive gap in between his toe and the end of the shoe, and they were not tied tight.


So I ran in them in Centennial while doing calisthenics and taking a butt-load of pictures. Really gorgeous park. This was very much the right decision. I felt rejuvinated.


And with the help of a nearly blind Han Solo, the Rebel Alliance managed to sink Jabba's Sail Barge above Sarlac's Pit in the deserts of Tatooine. And Return of the Jedi was in full swing.


Back at the hostel, I put a load of wash in. But I had so little, I openly offered for others to wash with me. $6 for wash and I had nothing? A citizen of Perth chose to join me but felt guilty and wanted to pay. I said I'd take a cider when they got back from the liquor store. Fair deal!


Some one else joined us and we were off to the races. One of the hostel staffers was madly impressed by what he interpretted to be generosity... I'm just a frugal bastard and didn't like the idea of wasting money or water, lol


Shared the cider over some chips, salsa, celery, and humus, as well as some good conversation, and ascertained a recommendation for the best philly cheese steak in Phili. Looking forward to it!


Made my way over to a place called Cabana's on Belcourt. Rode into the parking lot to see a sign saying 'reserved for -insert some steak house name here-' and non-chalantly grabbed a nearby cone ala James Bond and placed it behind my bike just like the cars on either side of me. Queue brass instrumental now.


Cabana was nice. I meandered through to the bar while looking for some one who could resemble the few pictures I'd seen of my coffeehost. Near the bar I got a text. "Look for the party of 13". I turned around. 13 young women between 21 and 24 sat celebrating or maybe simply pre-drinking before a night out. I casually made my way closer to the table, and waited for some form of recognition. None. I texted back, "Well don't make me stand here like a retard". "Sorry I don't see you" came the response.


What a coincidence. This was not MY party of 13. Regardless, my coffee host and their company were a pleasure to be around, and after some quail appetizer, we headed out for a stroll. First to Dragon Park, so aptly named due to the construction of two massive dragons fabricated from cement and adorned with shiny tile and stone. Being brave or stupid, I climed to the apex of the taller dragon via the spines and rode the dragon like the kid in Never Ending Story. "Falco", wasn't it?


Then we made our way over to the swings. Well it's been a while, and not only was I out of practice but my hips are a tad wider than before, so I couldn't not sit atop the baby swings like before. Fortunately they've integrated some sort of large plastic cradle seat for babies! My god were they comfy! Difficult to swing in, but nice to sit in, it couldn't be helped but to overcome the challenge of getting momentum. Eventually, we were going full tilt.


It had been years since I'd suffered motion sickness, something I'd overcome through desensatization in the military, but it was back, with a vengeance. I didn't throw up, but my stomach felt hot, and my head dissoriented. I had to throw in the towel. I'm still pretty entertaining, even when not in a swing so my weakness was overlooked by the people with me.


It was late and the hunger came calling, and much to my chagrin, we headed off to the nearest 24 Hour Waffle House, and despite checking a waffle from waffle house off my list, it was the most likely candidate for a late night snack. Thankfully my coffeehost helped me with some of it.


The next day I arrived in Louisville, a little later than I hoped, but it turned out perfect. My Kentucky coffeehost was already off work, and we met for convenience as much as our mutual safety in the Wal-Mart.


We opted for my bike, and took the cases off and stored them in their car, and hit the free way into downtown to see an art gallery/hotel guarded by giant, red, plastic penguins. I should probably clarify, this evening my coffee host was female. Only due to absolute necessity do I ride "Two-guys-one-bike" lol


Downtown Louisville was quiet, but beautiful. Apparently there is a saying "Why Louisville" because for whatever reason, it's looked down upon by some of the snootier big cities. An attempt was evident at cultural catch up, and some of the interesting architecture seemed out of place, but there was a definite charm, and I really enjoyed it there.


Surprisingly the gallery was hosting some sort of semi-private function and dinner, which was being attended by the Mayor of Louisville as well as the Governor of Kentucky. We were definitely not dressed for the occassion, I with my stanky squidding cargo shorts and ducati-Beverly Hills t-shirt (generously donated by Jumkie at the Laguna Moto GP a month prior, and very well broken in now - And this time I squidded the whole way to Louisville from Nashville which worked out great for immediately meeting my host), and 2 day facial growth. But being as we were the public whom the upper elite in attendance represent, we were ushered in by the doorman. My host hesitated slightly, "We're on the list" I joked and pulled her inside, lol


Sample hors d'ouevres lined the perimiter of the common area, and we tried some while literally brushing elbows with the upper class. I admit I clumsily jostled a few while passing by and I could feel ice picks and stares of death in my back. But this was too fun to feel like escaping empty threats. 


We made our way into the main exhibit hall, and noticed it had been turned into a dining area and the guests were being seated. My host stopped to ask permission to go down the stairs, but I was already off, enjoying the pieces as I descended. I went into a side room where black-ink depictions of the slave history lined the wall. I saw the rows of gift bags for the guests. Didn't that idea originate with birthday parties for 6 year olds in the 50's? I wanted one, but I dare not take. I know the boundaries and I was treading close just being down there, but I dare not overstep them. I went back into the dining area and my host was waiting at the top of the stairs, having turned herself in to the Gestapo staff. I felt bad. I couldn't leave her up there and longer alone. It felt selfish to go and continue looking at the works, so I went back up and we toured the dining areas and left.


I was directed to a Mediterranean diner where we had some great kebabs and rolls, topped off with the best, hands-down, baclava I've ever had! And I grew up in Fort McMurray, and attended a public school with a large Lebanese community, where I'd experienced many a mediterranean dessert, so that was saying a lot. Really nice place. Sadly, some pile of shit had 'tagged' the men's bathroom mirror within a week of the place reopening. Some people.


We wandered around a hipster area where "Keep Louisville Weird" bumper stickers could be seen on the occassional car, and had ourselves some great java while perusing the shops, both clothing, and furniture. Great area.


We met my coffeehosts room mate and then went out in search of a entertainment, firstly in the form of a drag-queen show at a local gay bar. But the shows only happen on Sunday. Shame. Mighta been interesting.


Instead we made due with Phoenix Hill, Louisville's far from finest mega-nightclub. This place catered to A-Listers... back in 1986 though. It was still a good deal of fun, thanks to the company, as well as the many characters that populated the place. Light-string, alternating palms trees, and bamboo lined walls made the place a definite hot spot for those suffering the winter blues come January and February. I felt like I was in a tropical paradise myself. So did the 80 year old tango dancer busting moves with the lovely 20 somethings on the dance floor. I think the world's most talented drunk Karaoke singer was singing Pretty Woman at one point. he may have been possessed by the ghost of Roy Orbinson, the vocals were so strikingly on key.


The rock band upstairs was smashing out the covers while 4 or 5 women swooned the stage. I think this same cover band and these same swooners were there in the hay-days of 1986. Back when people like Arseneal Hall and Magic Johnson would rock the spot.


Oh before this we went to a trendy tappas and had some mojitos. And for the record, I am not a 'Bee'


My host also proved to be a fairly talented photographer and artist. I'd even had the privalege of seeing her book, titled "Looking for Me ". It was quite moving in both poetry and photo, and I recommend searching it out.


Oh right, the reason I was late getting to Louisville was because I stopped at Las Paletas before leaving Nashville. Home-made ice cream popsicles, over 30 flavors, $2.50 a piece, non stop line up. Wow.


My next day's ride to Indianapolis involved Highway 135 through Salem and north past the park. For most of it, it was a great ride! Thanks to - - for helping break up the monotony I've been having to face! The beast was out again! Leaning hard into every turn, doing 150 kmh into 100 meter diameter turns... so good. But eventually the road turn into rock chip and tar as it had been repaired recently and would take some time to dry out. Oh well, still so nice to get a piece of that action! I'm talking about riding a motorcycle... Yeah I know... lol... I should probably get some track time.


I left the winding and went back to the freeway. Just in time to experience my first Cracker Barrel, having felt an urge for pancakes or french toast. DAMN SKIPPY! They're delicious! Maybe one more time... but let's not get carried away!


Came into town straight to the Indy Hostel. Really well run place, very clean, just what I needed without paying the big bucks. Mind you, VIP'ing it with my powerslide buddies woulda been cool too. Maybe next year!


This morning, had to hit a park for another refreshing run. Looked at my googlemaps. Well, being as George Washington Park was so large, AND named after the founding father of the country, I assumed it would be amazing. It was nice, but lacked any statues to Mr. Washington. Sort of confused me. But it sure got the job done. And although the area appeard to be a poorer neighborhood, I wasn't too worried, not even running in the dark until the dawn occurred. It was beautiful watching as the horizon illuminated and light began peaking through the leaves. I took a few photos. They looked alright. Perhaps with the photo Hipster App on iPhone they would have been better, but this will suffice. 


The ride to the park however was astonishingly cold. I have to remember that although the US has some warm spots, we still share some of the same climates. indianapolis isn't far off Alberta in terms of warm days but COLD nights.. and mornings. Doing 60 kmh in 12 'C feels like... I wanted so bad to get to the park and run and warm up that I rode faster yet. I sure don't miss winter exercises in Petawawa.


As I continued running, I came across some people walking. "Alright, good morning to you!" said the leading lady of the pack. "Morning" I returned to her and said to every one else I came across. So far on this trip in the 5 runs I've done, one of which was quite long on a populated beach, no one had said anything to me. It was a welcome change. But maybe that's because until Centennial Park, I ran barefoot and shirtless in surfing shorts  I say 'hello' or smile to people when I run back home and it made me feel more at home.


As I continued running, and as more people came from their houses in the area as I made my way back to the hostel, I noticed this community was nearly entirely made up of African American people. Perhaps the tone in this woman's "Alriiiight" and excited "Good morning to you" was because it wasn't often caucassian people of the area ran in that park, and I appeared to be one that wasn't worried about invisible ethnic boundaries? Well I'm not, and if that was the case, I'm glad I gave her a little cheer. I understand why these boundaries exist, but I wish they didn't.


I stopped off at a McDonald's, famished, and had an OJ, Milk and a McGriddle... Syrop entwined Pancake buns.. Genius. In line were two women, both with their young children. Friday morning. A day you could wake your kids up a bit early and treat them to a breakfast out before school. A special treat once a week maybe? Something you'd tell them not to brag about at school knowing that not every child may be that fortunate, but realizing your kids would feel special and thankful for the opportunity. I found it touching. For us to want our children to be happy, to be comfortable, to feel joy, is universal, and transcends those boundaries mentioned above.


I walked outside to see the sun break from the distant tree tops and rise above a KFC sign. Not exactly Yosemite National Park, but nonetheless, beautiful.


I'm at Indy watching all the awesome race stuff for the next few days; Will blog after.


Take care, Ride safe.


Oh, I forgot to mention a past coffeehosts charity project for building wells in Africa. Here is the website. www.justaddwater.com It's a good cause, not just a money grab, but a process for building wells and developing a clean water source. Without the basic necessities, people can't build their infrastructures, which in turn means, they can never develop. I'm going to give $20 as promised. Feel free to give what you can.

 

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A couple of things I neglected to mention in the last blog. Figured I'd take the time to mention them.


Regretably, I chose to miss the Barber Vintage Motorcycle Museum. To deviate and go to Birmingham from Atlanta near Leeds where the museum is, and THEN head to Nashville would have DOUBLED my on-bike time for the day AND gotten me into town even later.


I'm glad I chose to arrive earlier. I do wish I'd seen the Barber Museum, but like the Grand Canyon, it will remain for long enough that I can see it in my lifetime. Although I appreciate a lot of the places I've been, the trip has manifested periodically over the period and seems to be becoming more about the people and experiencs now. Just as it had changed from being about the ride. I suppose it's natural considering as social creatures, in the end, we tend to seek out fellowship. 


Even so, thanks to West Ky Guy from Sport-Touring.net for the suggestion. One day.


As well, something I wish I'd thought of eons ago to avoid the stank-on-ya that has become my riding pants, while on the interstate, I'm going bare-ass. Not naked, but sans riding gear (except the helmet. I'm hot, not crazy). The first day I tried it, I rode for as long as I could bare, but frequently I would think to my damaged rims, the milage on the bike, the possibility of shit going wrong and what I would feel and look like after sliding and rolling across 100 meters of pavement... I pulled into the nearest gas station and suited up.


It was like the transformation from man into werewolf. I became a demon on that bike. No longer timidly pulling along at 130 kmh, I was comfortably cruising at 160, pushing faster when I thought I could get away with it. I couldn't even control it. It felt ridiculous NOT going fast. Everything felt so insync, I was hitting everything that had the slightest bend with a touch of lean.


What's great about this is that I don't spend an hour and a half in slow moving traffic leaving the city or doing errands while geared up and sweating puddles in them. Had I thought of this in say, Alburquerque, things would be a lot different. Stink-wise. lol, thus comfort wise too I guess.


Anyway, in Nashville I arrived at my Apple Store appointment.  The phone was irreparably damaged. $200 for a new one that wouldn't even work due to US and Canadian Sim cards being different.


Got to my hostel, the Music City hostel, conveniently situated near Centeniall Park if I remember correctly. Gorgeous park with a parthenon and everything. Monument to a guy who built a railroad, a mile of running pavement. This was great. Especially considering that morning I had gone and done it; bought the running shoes.


Turns out, for the last 12 years I've been wearing the wrong shoes. I was supposed to be wearing a larger size to fit not just a fraction of an inch but nearly a full inch ("one thumb width") in front of my toe. So In an instant I go from a proportional size 13 to a 14. Now I realize girls see big shoes and they think a certain something, but this just looks ridiculous. However, it is quite comfortable. 


Didn't really get the salesman's logic, and this was in a real decent running store called Fast Break in Chattanooga, but he was making it sound like my shoes being shorter and being tied up so tight was causing me to run on bunched up toes. Not even the case. BUT the ball of my foot was potentially not where it was supposed to be in the shoe all these years, which was a bad thing for me.


Either that, or they had a lot of size 14's they were trying to get rid of near the end of the summer! But this guy had worn in, broken in runners, and sure as shit, he had a massive gap in between his toe and the end of the shoe, and they were not tied tight.


So I ran in them in Centennial while doing calisthenics and taking a butt-load of pictures. Really gorgeous park. This was very much the right decision. I felt rejuvinated.


And with the help of a nearly blind Han Solo, the Rebel Alliance managed to sink Jabba's Sail Barge above Sarlac's Pit in the deserts of Tatooine. And Return of the Jedi was in full swing.


Back at the hostel, I put a load of wash in. But I had so little, I openly offered for others to wash with me. $6 for wash and I had nothing? A citizen of Perth chose to join me but felt guilty and wanted to pay. I said I'd take a cider when they got back from the liquor store. Fair deal!


Some one else joined us and we were off to the races. One of the hostel staffers was madly impressed by what he interpretted to be generosity... I'm just a frugal bastard and didn't like the idea of wasting money or water, lol


Shared the cider over some chips, salsa, celery, and humus, as well as some good conversation, and ascertained a recommendation for the best philly cheese steak in Phili. Looking forward to it!


Made my way over to a place called Cabana's on Belcourt. Rode into the parking lot to see a sign saying 'reserved for -insert some steak house name here-' and non-chalantly grabbed a nearby cone ala James Bond and placed it behind my bike just like the cars on either side of me. Queue brass instrumental now.


Cabana was nice. I meandered through to the bar while looking for some one who could resemble the few pictures I'd seen of my coffeehost. Near the bar I got a text. "Look for the party of 13". I turned around. 13 young women between 21 and 24 sat celebrating or maybe simply pre-drinking before a night out. I casually made my way closer to the table, and waited for some form of recognition. None. I texted back, "Well don't make me stand here like a retard". "Sorry I don't see you" came the response.


What a coincidence. This was not MY party of 13. Regardless, my coffee host and their company were a pleasure to be around, and after some quail appetizer, we headed out for a stroll. First to Dragon Park, so aptly named due to the construction of two massive dragons fabricated from cement and adorned with shiny tile and stone. Being brave or stupid, I climed to the apex of the taller dragon via the spines and rode the dragon like the kid in Never Ending Story. "Falco", wasn't it?


Then we made our way over to the swings. Well it's been a while, and not only was I out of practice but my hips are a tad wider than before, so I couldn't not sit atop the baby swings like before. Fortunately they've integrated some sort of large plastic cradle seat for babies! My god were they comfy! Difficult to swing in, but nice to sit in, it couldn't be helped but to overcome the challenge of getting momentum. Eventually, we were going full tilt.


It had been years since I'd suffered motion sickness, something I'd overcome through desensatization in the military, but it was back, with a vengeance. I didn't throw up, but my stomach felt hot, and my head dissoriented. I had to throw in the towel. I'm still pretty entertaining, even when not in a swing so my weakness was overlooked by the people with me.


It was late and the hunger came calling, and much to my chagrin, we headed off to the nearest 24 Hour Waffle House, and despite checking a waffle from waffle house off my list, it was the most likely candidate for a late night snack. Thankfully my coffeehost helped me with some of it.


The next day I arrived in Louisville, a little later than I hoped, but it turned out perfect. My Kentucky coffeehost was already off work, and we met for convenience as much as our mutual safety in the Wal-Mart.


We opted for my bike, and took the cases off and stored them in their car, and hit the free way into downtown to see an art gallery/hotel guarded by giant, red, plastic penguins. I should probably clarify, this evening my coffee host was female. Only due to absolute necessity do I ride "Two-guys-one-bike" lol


Downtown Louisville was quiet, but beautiful. Apparently there is a saying "Why Louisville" because for whatever reason, it's looked down upon by some of the snootier big cities. An attempt was evident at cultural catch up, and some of the interesting architecture seemed out of place, but there was a definite charm, and I really enjoyed it there.


Surprisingly the gallery was hosting some sort of semi-private function and dinner, which was being attended by the Mayor of Louisville as well as the Governor of Kentucky. We were definitely not dressed for the occassion, I with my stanky squidding cargo shorts and ducati-Beverly Hills t-shirt (generously donated by Jumkie at the Laguna Moto GP a month prior, and very well broken in now - And this time I squidded the whole way to Louisville from Nashville which worked out great for immediately meeting my host), and 2 day facial growth. But being as we were the public whom the upper elite in attendance represent, we were ushered in by the doorman. My host hesitated slightly, "We're on the list" I joked and pulled her inside, lol


Sample hors d'ouevres lined the perimiter of the common area, and we tried some while literally brushing elbows with the upper class. I admit I clumsily jostled a few while passing by and I could feel ice picks and stares of death in my back. But this was too fun to feel like escaping empty threats. 


We made our way into the main exhibit hall, and noticed it had been turned into a dining area and the guests were being seated. My host stopped to ask permission to go down the stairs, but I was already off, enjoying the pieces as I descended. I went into a side room where black-ink depictions of the slave history lined the wall. I saw the rows of gift bags for the guests. Didn't that idea originate with birthday parties for 6 year olds in the 50's? I wanted one, but I dare not take. I know the boundaries and I was treading close just being down there, but I dare not overstep them. I went back into the dining area and my host was waiting at the top of the stairs, having turned herself in to the Gestapo staff. I felt bad. I couldn't leave her up there and longer alone. It felt selfish to go and continue looking at the works, so I went back up and we toured the dining areas and left.


I was directed to a Mediterranean diner where we had some great kebabs and rolls, topped off with the best, hands-down, baclava I've ever had! And I grew up in Fort McMurray, and attended a public school with a large Lebanese community, where I'd experienced many a mediterranean dessert, so that was saying a lot. Really nice place. Sadly, some pile of shit had 'tagged' the men's bathroom mirror within a week of the place reopening. Some people.


We wandered around a hipster area where "Keep Louisville Weird" bumper stickers could be seen on the occassional car, and had ourselves some great java while perusing the shops, both clothing, and furniture. Great area.


We met my coffeehosts room mate and then went out in search of a entertainment, firstly in the form of a drag-queen show at a local gay bar. But the shows only happen on Sunday. Shame. Mighta been interesting.


Instead we made due with Phoenix Hill, Louisville's far from finest mega-nightclub. This place catered to A-Listers... back in 1986 though. It was still a good deal of fun, thanks to the company, as well as the many characters that populated the place. Light-string, alternating palms trees, and bamboo lined walls made the place a definite hot spot for those suffering the winter blues come January and February. I felt like I was in a tropical paradise myself. So did the 80 year old tango dancer busting moves with the lovely 20 somethings on the dance floor. I think the world's most talented drunk Karaoke singer was singing Pretty Woman at one point. he may have been possessed by the ghost of Roy Orbinson, the vocals were so strikingly on key.


The rock band upstairs was smashing out the covers while 4 or 5 women swooned the stage. I think this same cover band and these same swooners were there in the hay-days of 1986. Back when people like Arseneal Hall and Magic Johnson would rock the spot.


Oh before this we went to a trendy tappas and had some mojitos. And for the record, I am not a 'Bee'


My host also proved to be a fairly talented photographer and artist. I'd even had the privalege of seeing her book, titled "Looking for Me ". It was quite moving in both poetry and photo, and I recommend searching it out.


Oh right, the reason I was late getting to Louisville was because I stopped at Las Paletas before leaving Nashville. Home-made ice cream popsicles, over 30 flavors, $2.50 a piece, non stop line up. Wow.


My next day's ride to Indianapolis involved Highway 135 through Salem and north past the park. For most of it, it was a great ride! Thanks to - - for helping break up the monotony I've been having to face! The beast was out again! Leaning hard into every turn, doing 150 kmh into 100 meter diameter turns... so good. But eventually the road turn into rock chip and tar as it had been repaired recently and would take some time to dry out. Oh well, still so nice to get a piece of that action! I'm talking about riding a motorcycle... Yeah I know... lol... I should probably get some track time.


I left the winding and went back to the freeway. Just in time to experience my first Cracker Barrel, having felt an urge for pancakes or french toast. DAMN SKIPPY! They're delicious! Maybe one more time... but let's not get carried away!


Came into town straight to the Indy Hostel. Really well run place, very clean, just what I needed without paying the big bucks. Mind you, VIP'ing it with my powerslide buddies woulda been cool too. Maybe next year!


This morning, had to hit a park for another refreshing run. Looked at my googlemaps. Well, being as George Washington Park was so large, AND named after the founding father of the country, I assumed it would be amazing. It was nice, but lacked any statues to Mr. Washington. Sort of confused me. But it sure got the job done. And although the area appeard to be a poorer neighborhood, I wasn't too worried, not even running in the dark until the dawn occurred. It was beautiful watching as the horizon illuminated and light began peaking through the leaves. I took a few photos. They looked alright. Perhaps with the photo Hipster App on iPhone they would have been better, but this will suffice. 


The ride to the park however was astonishingly cold. I have to remember that although the US has some warm spots, we still share some of the same climates. indianapolis isn't far off Alberta in terms of warm days but COLD nights.. and mornings. Doing 60 kmh in 12 'C feels like... I wanted so bad to get to the park and run and warm up that I rode faster yet. I sure don't miss winter exercises in Petawawa.


As I continued running, I came across some people walking. "Alright, good morning to you!" said the leading lady of the pack. "Morning" I returned to her and said to every one else I came across. So far on this trip in the 5 runs I've done, one of which was quite long on a populated beach, no one had said anything to me. It was a welcome change. But maybe that's because until Centennial Park, I ran barefoot and shirtless in surfing shorts  I say 'hello' or smile to people when I run back home and it made me feel more at home.


As I continued running, and as more people came from their houses in the area as I made my way back to the hostel, I noticed this community was nearly entirely made up of African American people. Perhaps the tone in this woman's "Alriiiight" and excited "Good morning to you" was because it wasn't often caucassian people of the area ran in that park, and I appeared to be one that wasn't worried about invisible ethnic boundaries? Well I'm not, and if that was the case, I'm glad I gave her a little cheer. I understand why these boundaries exist, but I wish they didn't.


I stopped off at a McDonald's, famished, and had an OJ, Milk and a McGriddle... Syrop entwined Pancake buns.. Genius. In line were two women, both with their young children. Friday morning. A day you could wake your kids up a bit early and treat them to a breakfast out before school. A special treat once a week maybe? Something you'd tell them not to brag about at school knowing that not every child may be that fortunate, but realizing your kids would feel special and thankful for the opportunity. I found it touching. For us to want our children to be happy, to be comfortable, to feel joy, is universal, and transcends those boundaries mentioned above.


I walked outside to see the sun break from the distant tree tops and rise above a KFC sign. Not exactly Yosemite National Park, but nonetheless, beautiful.


I'm at Indy watching all the awesome race stuff for the next few days; Will blog after.


Take care, Ride safe.


Oh, I forgot to mention a past coffeehosts charity project for building wells in Africa. Here is the website. www.justaddwater.com It's a good cause, not just a money grab, but a process for building wells and developing a clean water source. Without the basic necessities, people can't build their infrastructures, which in turn means, they can never develop. I'm going to give $20 as promised. Feel free to give what you can.