Pennsylvania vs. Kansas: A New Contender for Toughest Ride
Pennsylvania might just be giving Kansas a run for its money as the hardest cycling experience I’ve ever had.
Now, you might be wondering—Kansas? Really?
For those who knew me back in 2013, you’ll remember my expectations: flat roads, fast miles, and stringing together centuries day after day. That’s not what happened.
Instead, I hit 104-degree days in western Kansas during a 12-year drought. I went days without seeing another human. The headwinds were so brutal, they caused my sunglasses to press into my nose until it bled. The wind made my ears ache, so I wrapped them in a bandana—but in that heat, I had to keep soaking it to avoid overheating. It was dry, lonely, and surreal—like pedaling on the moon.
Fast forward to 2025: Pennsylvania brought the opposite, yet equally difficult.
For two straight weeks, I tackled steep climbs with 65 lbs of gear on my bike. I only took two rest days in a 14-day stretch, and the weather? Cold. Wet. Relentless. Some days I was soaked through, chilled to the bone. I won’t dwell on it—it’s behind me—but let’s just say: I never once thought about quitting, but I definitely had moments where I thought, “This is not fun.”
Thankfully, I trusted the weather would turn, and it did—just in time.
Cycling into Pittsburgh was still damp and chilly, but it dried up by afternoon. Then came the ride from Dayton to Cincinnati—a gift from the cycling gods: 55 glorious miles on a rail trail, flat and smooth, dotted with local breweries and restaurants. I even heard the first cicadas of the season—though a few decided to hitch a ride on my shirt. I can handle bugs, spiders, snakes… but slugs? No, thank you. I saw a few during those wet Pennsylvania days, and I powered through, but any closer and I’d have been nauseous on the spot.
That ride into Cincinnati brought me back to JOY. Pure and simple. It reminded me why I do this. After two weeks of cold, wet uncertainty, I felt that spark again.
And today? Cincinnati into Kentucky—warm, sunny, and just as joyful. Crossing back into my home state felt like a victory lap. The iconic stone walls and horse fences welcomed me, and I knew I was close.
Tomorrow, I’ll be home—for a week—before heading out again for the next two months of this adventure.
The road is long, but moments like these make it all worth it.