Day 28, 66 miles, Marion to Brinkley, AR
Slog (n.): a period of difficult, tiring work. Ex. Riding a bike for six hours pushing against a 15 mph headwind, struggling just to go 9 mph.
I knew it would be a long day the minute I got out on these long, flat, unbending country roads in rural Arkansas. The headwinds announced themselves right away.
Heading due west on Highway 218 out of Marion, AR, the wind came in steady from the NW at 15 mph, admonishing me to turn back, go the other way. I had to fight just to plod along at 9 mph. 
I knew, and I stated early in this blog, that I would have some slogs. Day 28 of my 70-day xUS bike trip was a slog. A long, arduous day of riding, when you begin wondering why you’re doing this.
Not only is it windy here without many trees or hills to stifle the wind. But this perfectly flat, sweeping terrain of central Arkansas also makes for some monotonous riding. The scenery takes a long time to change, and you start questioning if you’ve seen that silo before.
But then it occurred to me, as I pushed against another gust, that I’m like Goldilocks out here. There’s always something to complain about.
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Goldilocks and the Three States
Once upon a time there was a cyclist named Goldilocks. (For though it is no longer true, this cyclist did once have locks, if not golden.) Goldilocks rode his bike all the way to the state called Virginia, where the hills became a daily challenge. “These hills are too big,” said Goldilocks. “I think I’ll go to Tennessee.” So Goldilocks rode to Tennessee, where the hills became tamer, but where the heat and humidity became a daily challenge. “This heat and humidity are killer,” said Goldilocks. “I think I’ll go to Arkansas.” Goldilocks crossed the Mighty Mississippi into the state of Arkansas, in an area with few hills, and with a constant wind to keep him cool. “These roads are long, flat and not very interesting,” said Goldilocks, “and this wind is too strong.” Goldilocks came to a bridge over a muddy river, and saw his reflection in the water. He realized he got exactly what he wanted. He complained about the hills of Virginia, he complained about the heat in Tennessee, and now that they are gone, he complains about the flat roads and the cool wind. Finally, he said to his reflection, “Arkansas is juuuust right,” and continued riding west, aware that Texas would offer even flatter, longer roads, and plenty heat, too.
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Something like that.
Still, though, amid the slog of Day 28, and even on the hottest days, and climbing the biggest hills…I’d still rather be doing this than not. I’d rather be riding my bike across the country than sitting at home wondering what it would be like to be on an adventure.
Every good adventure includes some slogs. They have to. Adventure is partly about suffering and pain. The slogs, the pain, the long, difficult days full of personal challenge, are how you achieve the triumphant victories. It’s about the contrast. It’s about feeling life fully. You need the suffering to feel the joy. You enjoy a beautiful sunny day so much more when it follows a few days of rain or cold.
When you’re on an adventure, nearly every single day sweeps through the spectrum of pain and pleasure, challenge and triumph, suffering and joy. It’s partly what makes it adventure. It’s not mundane.
I’ll try to remind myself of this next time I’m pushing against the wind just to go 9 mph for 70 miles.