limited building experience, yep - that's us.

Bike and Build requires all of its participants to complete eight hours of sweat equity, volunteering for an affordable housing organization in some capacity.

After a good deal of communication with Habitat for Humanity branches in Williamsburg, Norfolk and Virginia Beach, Carys' and I were on our way down 64 to swing some hammers, test my rafter-climbing skills and even learn how to do a little bit of fancy cutting with a circular saw.

The build we were participating in was an all-women's build in a string of three Habitat houses in progress. As soon as we got there, we were put to work undoing the job that some other volunteers had done the week before. Nervous that our work would be undone one short week later, we were determined to do everything right. This task required for us to stand on ladders, in the misting rain, and hammer boards out of the walls as (it felt like) we dangled precariously out of the second story frame. Thankfully, I continue to learn about myself, and this time it was that I have a bit of a fear of heights. However, we did catch the eye of the photographer who seemed to record our every move. I keep checking the Norfolk Habitat site in hopes that I might someday add a picture of me dangling over those rafters to this blog.

Unfortunately, because the three sites had one shed of communal tools, Carys and I were asked to cut our work short so that some pressing adjustments could be made on the house next door.
I am really looking forward to this aspect of the summer (in part, of course, because you can't ride a bike if you are hammering a nail).

build THAT? wear WHAT?

It was a big day when my bike arrived to the Carriage House in the biggest cardboard box I have ever received. (As a result of a promise I made to Carys regarding waiting to open mine until hers arrived) it was an even bigger day when Carys' bike showed up in the mail a short while later.

Now, imagine this: two completely inexperienced bikers, two brand-new, but completely unassembled Trek 1000 road bikes, two allen wrenches, four pedals, two seats, two wheels, one very small bedroom, and one manual. Technically we had two manuals, but Carys and I differed in our assembly strategies. Unfortunately, the manual didn't really seem to help me much.

It wasn't too long before we had each, in our own individual ways, created a ride-able two wheeled, two pedaled, vehicle that we promptly rode about 1/3 of a block before realizing that while riding a bike always comes back to you, riding a road bike with tires as thick as my little toe was going to be a completely new challenge.

However, we persevered and that next Saturday we proudly rode our brand new bikes all the way down the street to the bike shop. I was planning on strolling in, receiving accolades for my stellar assembly job and being sent on my way to the Colonial Parkway. Well, we strolled in, but let's just say that instead of the Colonial Parkway, we visited the beloved rec center.

Needless to say, we ended up coughing up the money to have our bikes checked out (read: re-assembled) before actually taking that maiden voyage. Once we had our sweet bikes in riding condition, we felt that they deserved the best. Which, according to the two of us, and our twisted senses of humor, was a completely costumed ride, complete with team USA bibs, jerseys and jackets (compliments of Carys' Colorado cycling buddy).


Now, it has taken us a little while to get accustomed to the gear and the inevitable hollering from the TV room as we exit the Theta house continues to keep me on edge. We still have a long way to go though...there is something out there called chamois butt'r and I'd rather not describe how we will be expected to use it...

insight into my training world

Regularly, I am not one who trains, for anything. So, it was a big BIG personal step, in January when I actually decided that this spring I would strictly adhere to the training manual provided to me by Bike and Build. In fact, at the gym, it only took about a month for people to stop gawking and saying things like, "CARRIE BADANES, what are YOU doing here?!" or "whoa, I didn't think you knew where the Rec was" or "two days in a row, eh? What's the big occasion?"

Fortunately, I have been blessed with the ability to be able to smile and shrug off such comments. (Read: I was typically so out of breath that I honestly had no other choice.)
I have quickly learned that the gym is a funny, funny place. I used to laugh at my mom when she told me about her Sports Mall friends. I mean, how can the gym foster a sincere relationship with any depth whatsoever.* It is true though. For example, I run into the same friend of a friend every time I go to the rec here. I mean, our relationship is typically her saying hello, me (on a bike) grunting, her asking about training, me smiling (similar to above paragraph).

The other terrible thing that happened at the rec is that I started to get bored. I mean, if the televisions and constant visitors can't keep me entertained, what is to be said about the vast plains of nothingness that you see when you hit, oh about PENNSYLVANIA! Recently, I was notified that we are not permitted to listen to anything (except the rush and whirr of traffic) as we pedal. There goes listening to the entire Bible Experience this summer.

I really should be heading back to the rec center, it has been about 4 hours since I was last seen sweating and heaving on the stationary bike.

*Conversation about mom's gym friend went as such: "Wow, mom, you and your new friend speak in Spanish at the gym together?" Now, if you understand my mother's Spanish skills, then you would realize that her idea of a very close friend is one to whom she says hello, and then smiles at, while neither understands what on earth is going on.

an introduction to the summer

Before I get started, let me introduce my co-idiot. I think it takes a unique (or crazy) type of individual to decide that months of training all in preparation for a grueling 2.5 month bike ride sounds appealing. Therefore, it is incredible to believe that in my little dorm room, there ended up being not one unique individual, but two crazy girls who both decided this was a desirable summer adventure. So, for further reference, Carys (my roommate at William and Mary) has been my training partner, gear consult, personal motivational speaker, and yes, co-idiot.

Some would say that she single-handedly duped me into signing up for Bike and Build, but I maintain (perhaps only for the sake of my self-sufficiency) that she merely planted the seed. Fortunately for me, as I mentioned earlier, she is my co-idiot, meaning that even if she duped me, she accidentally duped herself in the process and all summer long we will be trudging through this adventure together.

For those of you wondering how I ended up like this, here's the story:

Over a year ago, my roommate Carys, casually mentioned that she was planning on biking across the country to advocate on behalf of those who did not have adequate housing. Just as you might have, when I said the same thing, I laughed, then I said -- WOW, good for you, then I thought "man, I am SO happy that I am not doing that." Funny how things change...

Now, before people start to think that I am an irrational decision maker, I'd like everyone to know that I made this decision over a very long three or four month period. In October, I called Abby and asked her if she wanted to do something together this summer. She jumped at the opportunity to spend the summer with me (perhaps traveling abroad), and then being ever more realistic than I am, stated that we couldn't leave because we had a duty to our big brother and his June wedding. Those plans foiled, I mentioned the Bike and Build trip. Abby didn't bite, but I think this was the first time I actually spoke the words aloud that I might--perhaps--be considering death by pedal this summer.

From there, I started the application process. Now, I understand how colleges can have strenuous application procedures, and even study abroad programs, but let me say -- it absolutely blew my mind that I had to write three essays and pay a deposit for a trip where I was providing all 4,000 miles of transportation. It is hard for me to imagine that they really had so many people dying to do this trip that they were turning people down for poorly written essays.

Carys kept suggesting that I apply to at least save myself one of those coveted spots on the trip so I could keep my options open into the spring. Though I am now excited about the B&B trip, Carys' advice led to one of my all-time backfires. What I didn't know was that as soon as you apply for the trip, they accept you (I don't think my essay really mattered at all) and before I knew it my face and biography was right there on the page of riders. I could refer to that day as the beginning of the end. Once my name was up there in lights, I was committed.

This lengthy decision-making process might be one of the reasons that I constantly ask myself "how did you get into this?" and "when did you decide THIS was a good idea?"

I guess we will see.