Love on the Blues Hiway

In the last couple days we've pedaled from the home of Robert Johnson to the home of Muddy Waters. In the process we've come to deeper appreciate the spirit of the blues. Ironically, I've also had a case of laryngitis, giving me a raspy blues voice. We're playing with it.

Ninety-five degrees with ninety-five percent humidity is Mississippi Delta normal for August, but it kicks me harder than anything we've experienced along this trip. I came close to collapse, sweating profusely, short of breath, and dizzy. Love saved me.

First there was the love of a complete stranger. Paul was on his way to visit the family of a recently departed friend, but he took time to express his concern for me. He helped us to get oriented to the locale, suggested a good place to rest, and stopped back later to see that I had recovered.

Then there was my love for the two girls I was hauling in the bike trailer. I wasn't about to let them down or put them at risk. I found the reserves of energy I needed to carry them to a safe spot by drawing on the love that has surrounded me since birth. All the love of my family, ancestors, and more was there for me.

But it was Michele's love that finally set me onto the road to recovery. I swear she pays more attention to my hydration and nutrition than she does to her own. When I continued to struggle with riding in the heat, she insisted that I switch trailers, lightening my load and solving my problem.

I've recovered and we've switched trailers back to make better time, but I have a new awareness of the never-ending source of strength that love provides.