Watching me ride a bike would probably have been a lot like waiting for an ailing grandparent while you're holding the door: slow, awkward, and kind of pitiful. It hurt, but morale-wise, I wasn't doing too bad. In a way, it was nice to have an explicit physical challenge with no complications. Either I ride, or I don't. Unlike challenges in the default world, I don't have to worry that I'm missing a smarter approach that would solve everything in five minutes. I don't have to wonder how I'll present this difficulty to my superiors, mentally rehearsing arguments and counters. I will never have to justify this experience using presentation slides. Most importantly, there's very little to feed negative self-criticism. It's just pure, physical pain that will pass with no social complications.
More ibuprofen kept me functional, but barely. Very slight inclines forced me off the bike to walk, and even that required keeping one knee straight. This was the entire day, but I did manage to cover a reasonable amount of ground, setting myself up for a shorter day tomorrow. The one notable event from the ride was that I finally got to see some wild Sandhill Cranes, which I had hoped to run into at some point on my trip. I'm not much of a birdwatcher, but it was neat to see what I believe is the largest bird species in North America.
As it was getting dark, I found a nice hidden spot behind a CenturyLink service box. Unfortunately it had an extremely loud AC unit that cycled every five minutes, provided no cover, and was surrounded by pavement so I couldn't set up my tarp. The forecast predicted rain, so I relocated to a gazebo in a nearby corporate-owned park, hoping that they weren't planning on hosting any team-building events between 9 PM Friday and 6 AM Saturday. Conveniently, the outside of the gazebo was lit but the inside wasn't, meaning that I could see out but no one could see in. That didn't stop me from panicking when someone parked in the nearby lot, but apparently they just wanted to park farther from the corporate office than necessary to drop something off.
Around 1 AM, a group of five boys approached the gazebo. My finely tuned hobo-sense woke me up, and I quietly got into a position where I wouldn't be completely helpless if they decided to punk the homeless guy, which is the kind of thing I would have expected in Sacramento. I watched them approach until they were actually partially inside the structure with me, at which point I figured it was inevitable that they'd discover my stuff. Attempting to sound as friendly as possible, I said "Hi!" out of the shadows. Unfortunately, I don't think it's possible to "sound friendly" as a disembodied voice coming from somewhere nearby in a dark structure that none of us were allowed to be in. Worse, all the lights around the building gave the impression that one was aware of their surroundings. My greeting shattered that impression and all five took off running without more than half a four-letter word. Pro tip: the dark is a lot less scary when you are the scary thing in it.
Stealth camping wisdom would have had me leave that spot immediately, in case they regrouped or reported me to someone. They were young enough that they were breaking some rules themselves, though, and I didn't want to deal with rain, so I rearranged my stuff a bit and went back to sleep without a problem.
My phone wasn't able to capture the cranes at a distance, so here's a house with some chickens instead.
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