Some of my favorite things:


My down jacket(s), Smartwool socks, braiding my hair, dark chocolate, Clifford (the coziest sleeping bag ever made), strong coffee, snobby beer, gray v-neck t shirts, Under Armor leggings, the silence of the early morning, fall colors, sending packages to friends afar,  sunsets from mountain tops, ice cream, taking photos, snow, Converse, home-baked goods, fresh fruit and vegetables, talking with the same guy who always pumps my gas, Amelie, the satisfaction of making it through the yellow light, live music, writing in black ink, my moms eggplant parm, intense Jenga matches, singing competitions with Al (we both suck), listening to the bag pipes from Kelly's front lawn, conversing with old folks, chubby babies, winter hats, clean sheets, a crisp night in my tent, eating food the second it exits the oven (just like my grandma did), traveling, camp fires, rustic cabins, people watching, screaming down a mountain on skis, piano solos, cookies, apple picking, and lumberjack beards.

I've been an athlete for as long as I can remember. When I was old enough to play softball for my town league, I did. When I was old enough to join the team in grammar school, I did. Then I was snuck into another town's summer league, because my moms best friend was the coach. And, once again in high school, I joined. I had always been on a losing team, but I never cared; just being able to play the game made me happy. When I was a sophomore, I cracked my first and only grand-slam, the pinnacle of my softball playin' career. It was amazing!

I vaguely remember my first bicycle; it was pink. At age 7, when I found out my grandma Vera died, I just had to go out for a ride, and once I did, I felt much better. Then when I was older, maybe 10 or 12, I received my first 10-speed, also pink (and purple, too!) And then there was the hideous fluorescent orange-with-black-paint-splatter bmx-type bike. Some girl who didn't like me, laughed at my bike and called it a "cheap Toys R Us bike." So I challenged her to a race around the block, knowing how hard I could pump my legs. And yup, you guessed it, the cheap-o won! I kicked the hell out of her and her fancy bike! Fast forward a decade, and I ponied up the money for a crappy mountain bike. I have a history of riding crappy bikes, but it didn't matter, because just being able to ride was the point.

Now, I still own that mountain bike, but it just sits next to the bright orange lawn mower collecting dust. After I bought my Surly, I decided I wanted to bicycle-commute a bit locally (I'm too afraid to leave my blue beauty locked up just anywhere). So I bought a neat-o folding bike from a guy on Craigslist who had no idea how to fold it, but with my mechanical brain, I figured it out. I haven't used it as much as planned, but I'll keep it around; it's adorable, fun, and I get funny looks when I ride it. Also, I found that I smile a lot when I ride it, the upright position just makes me feel giddy for some reason.

For many years, skiing sounded like a fun sport to take up. When I was 18 or 19, I learned the art of "pizza and french fries." Rather than taking lessons, a few friends took me straight up the mountain, knowing that I pick up any athletic-type thing very easily. So, like a wild beast, I skied and tumbled my way down the mountain. I had no control over my speed, but I was having a blast. A few tries later, it finally clicked, and I became a whiz at whipping around the edge of a mountain, but with far greater control. Before long, I was talked into skiing some black diamonds. Some made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and some were so much fun that I didn't care if the hairs stood up.

Then my passion for hiking came along; I was about 25. I had only backpacked about 4 times before deciding to hike 2,000 miles, but I knew it was for me. And that's how I feel about riding cross-country. I currently have 1 short tour under my belt, and if I don't get in another before tackling 4,000 miles, well, I'm not worried. I can ride a bike, I can read maps quite well, I know how to read people, and I sure as heck know how to live outdoors in any weather imaginable (80 mph winds while crossing a 5-mile bald stretch, golf ball-sized hail, knee-deep snow, sleet, 7 degrees, 95 degrees, and lightening striking close enough to smell the tree that it struck). Only this time when weather threatens, I'll be sitting on 30 pounds of steel instead of having 2 metal poles in my hands. Gulp.

So ya see, I have always been athletic, adventurous, curious, a thrill-seeker, risk-taker, and moderately crazy to do the things I do. It's only natural that I combine my love for the outdoors and biking, and ride right the hell across the country.

What's in there?

I've noticed something: long-distance cyclists seem to carry a lot of stuff. It makes me wonder, what is in all those bags? It must be the hiker in me, but it just looks like way too much. I did the calculations, and both my rear panniers hold about the same amount of cubic inches as my pack that I carried for 6 months. I learned that the more space you have, the more junk sneaks its way in. And who needs a lot of junk when you need to haul it on your back, up and over mountains all day? Or, pedal it up and over 12,000' mountain passes? This may be a theme to live by. 

My friend, Andy from Baltimore, and I (yes, that is his name AND trail name) biked the C&O Canal this summer. I managed to fit all of my stuff in 2 rear panniers (with space to spare), and kept a few handy items in a handlebar bag, like snacks, maps, and a headlamp. I also took a collapsible fishing pole, for good measure (we didn't fish, and I heard eating from the Potomac is just downright disgusting). 

Some parallels of biking and hiking: biking is like hiking, only you can carry a whole jar of peanut butter vs a few squeeze packs of it (and not even notice the extra weight), you find yourself in the most incredible situations, something is always sore, the pit stench is just as bad (do cyclists wear deodorant?), and people on bike tours are just as kind. Oh, and taking advantage of ice cream when possible is just as important!

So, perhaps I'm prematurely speaking (er, typing) since I have yet to do a trip that is longer than 5 days.  I know I'll have a few more items to haul than I did in my pack, like tools, tubes, and random repair items, but, I think I can manage with just rear bags and a handlebar bag. Plus, people tour on folding bikes with much less space available, maybe they are the equivalent of ultra-light hikers?

I'm new here, so I suppose I should introduce myself. I am known to most as Patrice, and by some as Storm. Patrice was my name given at birth, and Storm was my name given by friends when I thru hiked the Appalachian Trail. Tradition of long-distance hiking is to adopt a "trail" name. I answer to several variations of both, depending on which role I am in. I've been home from the trail for over 2 years now, and still struggle with using the correct name at the appropriate time. I'll occasionally stumble when I introduce myself; Storm tries to sneakily work its way out in the wrong situation, and I find myself signing emails, having to hit the delete key and retype my real name. Ok, now you know who I am.

Next, I should introduce my bike. I like to call her The Storminator, after, well, my trail name. As I understand, people on long-distance bike trips do not have trail names, or road names (or do they?), and I'll need to keep an important part of my trail life with me on the next big adventure. Of course, that life is always with me, and those memories are still fresh in my mind; there hasn't be a day that's passed that I haven't thought of the AT. I love being called Storm, and if I don't get to introduce myself as that on the road, well, at least my bike can.

Onward. After a few friends hiked the AT in '06, I decided that it sounded like an awesome adventure, and that I'd do it when the time was right. And poof, just like that, I did, 3 years later. Two months after my AT hike, my trail friend, Ducky, told me about her previous cross-country bike ride. I thought to myself, "Well, that sounds just awesome, I need to do that!" So, that's next on my bucket list. 

Until I can make that happen (and I'm hoping to do it summer '12), I'll continue to live through small-time adventure as I work my way back through school and into a new career. By the way, quitting my previous career in the corporate world was the best thing I have ever done. Just have a bad day and and make a crazy decision (like, walk 2,000 miles!), and your life will go from stale to incredible. Easy as pie. 

Ok, time to hop on the bike and stretch my legs out a wee bit on this beautifully sunny day. The fall colors are winding down, so I need to enjoy what's left of it.