Day 11: The Great Escape to Fort Lauderdale

I started the day leaving Lantana, aiming for Boca Raton, trying to beat the rain from Tropical Storm Helene. The plan was simple: make it to Boca, grab a hotel before 2 PM, and let the storm pass while I enjoyed some comfort. Easy, right? Well…
Knowing the ride was short, I decided not to push too hard. I had to pick up a care package from Aaron and Brooke first, which I arrived for right on time. The package was a chef’s kiss—jerky, dried bananas, electrolytes, granola. It was like Christmas in a box, but for a cyclist. With my belly full of jerky, I realized I had two hours until check-in. So, naturally, I made the decision that no one in their right mind would make: “Why not push on to Fort Lauderdale?” It’s only 15 more miles—how bad could it be?
First bad assumption: thinking 15 extra miles would be a breeze.
About 30 minutes in, the skies turned that ominous “you’re about to get soaked” shade of dark. I looked out over the Atlantic and saw the rain marching toward me. Maybe, just maybe, I could outrun it? Second bad assumption: thinking I could out-pedal rain.
But being the brave hero I am (or maybe just a naive biker with too much optimism), I pressed on. I approached a drawbridge just as the heavens decided to open up. Now, I know you’ve seen those dramatic rain scenes in movies and weather channel live prod cast during hurricanes , but this was something else. It was biblical. I couldn’t even see the end of the bridge. Meanwhile, the “breeze” had cranked up to “hold on to your hat” levels. It was so strong that it blew my last flag clean off my trike. For a moment, I felt like Mary Poppins on a recumbent bike, ready to fly away.Fast forward 30 minutes, and suddenly, it’s like nothing ever happened. The skies cleared, the wind calmed, and all was well… or so I thought.Another odd observation from today: about 30 minutes into any ride, a fishy smell starts to creep into the air. It’s like the ocean just hangs out in the atmosphere waiting to say hello. And when it rains, the smell magically disappears. But once the rain’s done, 30 minutes later—boom—fishy air is back! I’m starting to think it’s Florida’s way of keeping things interesting. But the smell always goes away at the end of the day, seems like when I shower.
But the day’s real entertainment was still ahead. After another hour of riding, I stopped for a quick water break and to stretch. No big deal, right? Wrong. My left foot wouldn’t unclip from the pedal. Cue minor panic. I thought, “Great, I’m about to become one with my bike forever.” But then I remembered passing a bike shop just a few minutes ago. ( I believe providential)
So, I pedaled back to the shop, gracefully untied my shoe, and slid my foot out. Picture this: I walk into the shop missing one shoe, pretending this is all totally normal. With as much dignity as I could muster, I casually ask the guy if he could help me out. He was a pro—didn’t even laugh, just smiled a little, probably used to seeing us hapless cyclists with missing footwear. Turns out, I had lost a screw from my clip. He found a replacement, fixed me up, and sent me on my way. Crisis averted.
From there, it was smooth sailing to Fort Lauderdale. No more rain, no more fish smells for 30 minutes, no more missing shoes. I’ll hunker down here for a bit while Helene does her thing, but all in all, another day of adventure on the road.
Lesson learned? Well, maybe not. I’ll probably still push my luck tomorrow.

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