It's The Feet That Suffer

Pasadena, CA
N 34°9'03.07", W 118°7'26.31"
http://maps.google.com/maps?q=34.15085,-118.12398

Courtesy my kind hosts' wifi, we have two photos. One of myself kitted up, taken by Jim this morning, and another of my gracious bed-givers for the evening, Mary Beth and her flatmate Dylan.

The day was a success and my goal of Los Angeles was achieved around 1700 hours. For the last half hour or so of the run, I was convinced that I had somehow burnt my left big toe through the boot. Maybe I had absent-mindedly rested it against the engine block too long? It was a stabbing pain like a poorly trimmed nail.

Good news! The boot is just too small and was jamming the corner of the nail. My feet were the last thing I expected to be the chief discomfort, but they shine out next to the totally tolerable muscle ache in my neck, shoulders, and thighs. A fairly distant second would have to be my right wrist - some cramping after hours twisting the throttle.
Pasadena is officially classified as a good stop. Shortly after arrival a gaggle of giggling neighborhood kids complimented me on the bike as I went to find Mary Beth's address. I got the two-penny tour of her new place and got acquainted with her roommate over water in my glass and a red Two Buck Chuck table wine in theirs.
At this point I was already walking around half barefoot, my left foot getting fresh air after a day of suffering, and it was in this state I ambled outside to show them the bike. On our return walk we spotted the aforementioned gaggle trying to knock one ball from the branches of a fairly large tree with a second ball. I got them to toss me the ball and scored a hit on the first shot - and laughed as the first ball came to earth and the second nestled deep in the same bough the first had just left.
After an unsuccessful subsequent toss, I decided to try the direct approach rather than risk having two balls up the tree.

A quick aside, though, I promise it's related.  Last night on the porch of the Merry Go Round house, talking to Sheryl and Declan, Sheryl made a joke about my adventure being like the Littlest Hobo who traveled the country doing good deeds. I replied that I must have grown up to be a middling sized biker, committing moderately good deeds whereever I go.

So, my moderately good deed consisted of shimmying up a very thick tree, with an audience, and shaking loose a blue basketball - all while wearing only one boot. I opened up my bread-baking blister in the process, but I had fun bringing tree climbing skills to bear and the wound was easily dressed.

We rounded out the evening with an amazingly good burger at the Hamburger Hamlet. I was expecting White Castle, but the name deceives and the restaurant is a thoroughly classy institution.

Okay, I need to sleep soon if I'm going to make tomorrow's goal. I just double checked the route and am feeling a little doubtful. I finished a 400 mile day today, but Bisbee is almost 600 away.

I'm sorry, foot.