Jeffrey here. Joey yielded the floor.
As Joey posted in March, 3 ½ weeks after my pulmonary embolism, 2 ½ weeks after I contracted pneumonia, events proved the naysayers correct. Only 120 miles into the Ride to Seattle, I flamed out on a California hillside south of Bodega Bay. It was all I could do to roll downhill to Valley Ford and wait for my friends Nattie and Julie to fetch me back to San Jose.
Nancy flew out from NYC and took me on her business trip to San Francisco.

Nancy. All business. All class. Sunshine! Fun!
Her business concluded, we flew home.
Darkness spared Nancy my annoying reminders that I had biked coast-to-coast over the terrain below. I was happy to reminisce quietly in front of the flight tracker.

Marked in red near our path are cities in which Joey and I spent significant time on previous Rides.
Now I try to strike a balance of activity (to get stronger) and rest (to avoid setbacks). It’s been hard. Shortness of breath. Chest discomfort. Deep sadness at failing to reach my West Coast goal. Unpredictable ups and downs, reasons unknown.
Three weeks after suspending the Ride, I consulted the experts.

L to R: Joey, Jeffrey, Dr. Shujaat. [Photo by Shira.]

L to R: Dr. Graf, Joey, Jeffrey. [Photo by Marina.]

The dark artery-blocking embolus (circled in red) shrank between early February (L) and late March (R).
The docs’ prescription: time. Only with time will everything mend.
Part of the process is to look to the future.
In early May, I intend to embark with Joey on the second leg of this year’s Ride. We will pedal 800 miles (1300 km) from Indiana through Kentucky, Tennessee, Alabama, Mississippi, and Arkansas, to Louisiana.

We’ll start in Jeffersonville, Indiana. “A” is Gadsden, Alabama. “B” is Oak Grove, Louisiana.
There is much to explore.
Consider Alabama.
Alabama enacted cruel anti-immigrant laws. Yet many Alabamians revere the Bible, which commands us to love and protect neighbors and strangers without regard to place of birth.
In 2016, Alabama conducted a “Tax Delinquency Amnesty Program” for tax-stealing citizens. Yet Alabama officials show no mercy to tax-paying immigrants who happen to be in Alabama without federal permission.
Does Alabama’s government reflect the will of its people? Or, as on the federal level today, does the government defy the majority? Perhaps we will find out.
But first we must go south.
Dear Reader, I will push the envelope. I will get stronger. I will prepare for the Southern Ride. I will let you know how it goes.
Meanwhile, please join me in wishing Alfonso well.
I met Alfonso in March in New Jersey. Days before, he buried his 31 year old son. Alfonso’s cart overflowed with Easter baskets, his gifts for the students at the school where he is a boiler operator. It was moving to meet someone who remains so loving and kind despite recent personal tragedy.
I have met wonderful Americans like Alfonso on Rides through 32 states. I will meet more in May as Joey and I pedal south from Indiana.
Onward. Upward. Southward.
Stay tuned.