“The only reason I would ever quit would be a serious injury that caused me to be physically incapable of propelling a bicycle--like an exploded knee, a broken skull, or death.  Certainly I will not quit because it's too difficult, too boring, too scary, or too uncomfortable.”  -Gregory S. Garceau in 2013

“Just outside of Farley the heavy rains returned.   It made for some pretty miserable cycling . . . thinking one hour of suffering would be better than three hours of suffering . . . I rode back to Dyersville. . . I could just drive to Dubuque from there.”  -Gregory S. Garceau in 2024

Oh, how one's internal resolve can diminish in eleven years!

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Much to my shame, I abandoned my original plan for a five-day tour after only two days.  I'll try to refresh your memories since that happened three weeks ago:  My failure to plan ahead was pathetic.  My attempt to deal with a little rain was pathetic.  My stress over not carrying a tent was pathetic.  The irony of blaming my lack of sleep on worrying about not getting enough sleep was pathetic.  In sum, I was pathetic.  Perhaps this addition to my journal is pathetic too.  I hope not, because I'm going ahead with it anyway.

The shame has been weighing on me ever since then.  A couple days ago, I said to myself, "ENOUGH WITH THE PITIFUL SELF-LOATHING!  LET'S DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!"

Thank the god of the Church of the Great Outdoors, I came up with a way to atone for my sins, and I found a way to do it while also sticking to the themes I've been using in the journal so far:  Boyhood nostalgia, heavy bragging, and Midwestern bike touring.  With that continuity in mind, I found no reason to start a separate journal.  True, the new material won't include the now-infamous destination of Dubuque, but I think I found a NEW craze in bike touring destinations to be at the forefront of.  [See Footnote.]

According to my calculations, I owe myself three days and two nights of bike touring, and now is the time to collect on that debt.  I studied my Rand-McNally Atlas for a route that might fit such a timespan and zeroed in on it via Google Maps.  With a twirl of my magic wand, I conjured up three days and two nights to make this journal right (righteous?).

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I lived in four different Midwestern towns before the age of sixteen.  St. Cloud, Minnesota is the only one I haven't visited on either of my bike tours this year.  I only lived in St. Cloud for 18 months, split between my 2nd and 3rd grade school years.  When I arrive there tomorrow, I'll explore the city on my bike.  My main focus will be on finding my grade school and the duplex I lived in with my family.  If I am successful, get ready for more boyhood nostalgia and more stories about ME.

 [Footnote:  I've been told it's okay to end a sentence with a preposition in these relaxed days of modern journalism.  Still, my uptight Catholic School education from the 1970s tells me I should apologize for the grammatical error.  I'm sorry.]