Day 10 – Another Day on A1A and US1: Riding Through Resilience

Sorry for the delay in the Post:

Today’s ride took me along the inland side of the intercoastal, with a mix of good and not-so-great bike lanes. About three-quarters of the roads were cyclist-friendly, but the other quarter had their challenges—cracks in the sidewalks, big bumps on ramps, and narrow lanes that made me slow down. However, some counties really impressed me with their bike lanes, marking them clearly and even painting them green for easy visibility. I’ve noticed that most drivers have been really considerate. Florida’s law requiring cars to give bikes at least three feet of space is definitely appreciated, and for the most part, people are following it.
The weather was sunny, with the exception of a brief shower—of course, it wouldn’t be Florida without a little rain! I kept it short today, covering just 30.2 miles, as I wanted to reach an early stopping point and figure out what the storm brewing in the area was going to do.
There wasn’t much news to share from the ride itself, but I did pick up an interesting bit of local history. I ended the day in Lantana, Florida, staying at the Barefoot Mailman Inn and Suites. I admit, the name made me wonder if the place might be a bit sketchy, but I was pleasantly surprised. It’s an older motel that’s been updated, and the manager filled me in on the story behind the name.
Back in the late 1800s, there was a mail route between Palm Beach and Miami that stretched 136 miles. The mailmen, known as the Barefoot Mailmen, would walk the route barefoot along the coast and through dense wilderness. It was a six-day journey, and many of them encountered more than their fair share of local wildlife—some ended their careers because of it. I’ve yet to see an alligator on this trip, though I did spot an iguana today!
One quiet stretch of road brought a different sight: a chameleon perched on a bush, blending perfectly into its surroundings. It was fascinating how it adapted so seamlessly for protection, changing its color to match the environment. That image stuck with me. It reminded me of how we, too, must adapt when faced with life-changing circumstances, especially after an injury like a traumatic brain injury (TBI).
If you’ve experienced a TBI or another serious illness, you know that your world shifts. Suddenly, you have to adjust to a new version of yourself, and that can be overwhelming. But it’s not an ending—it’s an opportunity to rebuild, to adapt. You have to become resilient.
I get it—it’s easy to say. You might think, “You haven’t walked in my shoes, you don’t know what it’s like.” And you’re right, I don’t fully know. But after my second stroke, I had to face my own challenges: cognitive issues, memory loss, weakness in my right side. I had to change my goals and expectations for myself. Am I always positive? No. But that’s where resilience comes in. It’s about adapting, about pushing forward, even when it’s hard.
For me, riding a recumbent trike is one of those adaptations. I can no longer walk long distances or jog like I used to, but the trike allows me to keep doing something I love—riding. It’s not just about the physical journey; it’s about resilience, about rebuilding yourself after life’s obstacles. You can do it, too!
Stay resilient, keep adapting, and remember—this is just another chapter in your story.
P.S. Ed, I still haven’t seen any alligators, but the iguana in the photo is the closest I’ve come!