It is 6:00 a.m. and my internal clock says it is time. Like every day for the past 143 days I rise up with no hesitation. There are no thoughts or consideration of that matter. One cannot open the door of doubt because if you do it will never be shut again. The clock is running. My day has begun. It is normally a short breakfast of either oatmeal and toast or french toast with maple syrup, after all it is New York. I am driven out to my start point which is my end point from the day before. A few words are exchanged with my host, a handshake a hug and then goodbye. What I will miss the most is the visiting with my friends who have so graciously taken me in. We have a few hours at night to share stories and such about our lives over dinner and then the next morning I am gone, most likely to never see them again and yet their part in this run is of such importance that I am humbled by their hospitality. The first flag of the day and the first mile come slowly as my body is a bit slow to warm up. As the sun rises and my attention is drawn to my surroundings the miles pass quickly. Normally by mile 5 I have found my first coins of the day which I will send home to add to the jelly jar that is filled with $16.73 of money from America. It has actually taken me 3775 miles to find my first dollar bill. At gas stations I will stop for a Starbucks Mocha Frappaccino of which I have now consumed over 133 bottles. Yes, that along with the 35 gallons of chocolate milk has me thinking I may have an excess addiction. Another mile, another flag, a farm, glass on the road, cows, a hill, another one, another one, trains, a river. I have noticed that the locusts are now gone and that the crickets are silent too. I think of Cooperstown, NY. They race giant pumpkins on a lake. Actually paddle them in the water and I thought Nebraska had the blue ribbon for floating in horse tanks till I saw that. I think of my friend Dick who gave me 4 sheets of paper last night over dinner. It was photos and signatures of 14 German Officers put on trial after WWII in Nurenberg for War Crimes. Dick was a Sergeant of Guard for the prisoners and had acquired all the signatures. A piece of history, however cloudy it was. I think of an older gentleman who hugged me this morning and said goodbye with tears in his eyes. He said he had lay awake most of the night thinking about what I was doing and wished he could do the same thing. He told me I had squeezed a lifetime into one summer. I think of my friend Bob who ran with me a few days ago. He is 64 and never had run more than 13 miles and yet he did 30 that day. Kudos Bob, your company and conversation were great. I pass through the Mohawk River Valley and realize that there is more to New York than just the city, come and see. Another step, another telephone pole, another mile. Shoes are done. Cut the laces and tie one on my handlebars….17 pairs so far. There is my host. A smiling face welcomes me. The day is done…….