First big snag in “plans,” insofar as I have actual plans and not, you know, hazy nebulous ideas that shift and mutate multiple times a day, from which unexpected deviations are much less dire.
Anyway, yeah, given that I can barely hobble around on my left foot, between the big toe still bloody and missing half the toenail and the two adjacent toes now banged up and immobile, Bloomington –> Springfield is a hell no. Biking is actually way less painful than walking, though every time I dismount and my toes nudge my shoe (let along smash the curb or something as happens frequently) I make this weird strangled sound and passers-by look at me funny. Then they look up and down my black-and-blue legs and I’m honestly curious as to what they’re thinking.
So I hauled my bike onto the train again (I’d document the new bruises incurred in doing so, but it’s getting fucking redundant by now) and am bypassing Springfield to hang out with and annoy my friend Jeff for a few days, and stay in one place for a little bit and heal. (I just seriously thought to myself, “Hmm, I wonder if Skele-Gro works on toenails,” before I remembered that Skele-Gro is not, in fact, real. Fuck you.)
So I’m going to get a map and plot out the Amtrak routes that allow bikes on the trains. If I went out West I’d have to pack it up in a bicycle box as checked baggage to get it out there (and back eventually), which is an option. Not ideal, but I’ve never really spent much time on the West Coast and that would be some gorgeous biking, and there’s also approximately 28932773 people scattered across that coast who I’d love to see. If I stick to the Midwest and the East, between my bike and a rail pass I could wander pretty freely up and down wherever as whimsy strikes.
Life’s weird, y’all.