Being anxious, depressed, middle-aged, self-doubting, a classic overthinker, risk averse, extremely picky, opinionated, annoyed by traffic, and generally high-strung on my best days does nothing toward being an effective randonneur. I can’t tell you how many different methods I’ve tried to help kick myself out the door on any given ride day, only to have the thinnest of excuses knock things on their side. When did this become so difficult? Eh, I can’t remember.
I do know that it is far easier to start when I know others are waiting in some distant, dark parking lot with their bicycles ... probably struggling with the same excuse machine as me. When that’s the case, I pop out of bed, saddle up (er, grab the keys), and stop overthinking. When left to my own devices, however, I become extraordinarily wishy-washy. It’s too hot... it’s not hot enough ... oops, now it’s too cold.... Or windy.... And is that rain in the forecast? Uh oh ... better stay home and mow the grass, even though it looks like it has barely grown. Mowing the grass is never a priority ... until I need it to be. Then, well, it can take all day. Guess I can’t ride.
Others WERE waiting when I last rode a 200k back in June, but life quickly began to pop up and stand in the way of continued progress on the elusive streak i keep threatening to start up. As we all navigate the chapters of life, some things will naturally take priority over others ... and, it’s all temporary. Still, I found myself frustrated, kicking the can down the road again and again, from July, to August, and then into September. Every time a plan was made, something else would pop up ... “reasons”, not “excuses.” Big difference there. My desire never seems higher than when I truly "can't".
I suppose I reached a point where “enough was enough”, and with barely a day’s notice I printed out a card, signed a waiver, and reversed a GPS track ... the only thing left in front of me were excuses, and I finally got tired of listening to my internal dialogue once again talking me out of something that I likely - desperately - needed to do. It was time to ride again.
Just like the rides themselves unfold, so shall I relate things here ... control to control.
Home to Control #1 ...
It’s Sunday, it’s a good day to sleep in a little, grab some breakfast, and then get going a little later in the morning... how bad could it be? It’s weird how just a handful of miles can turn into such a galactic hassle, but it completely escaped me that the ride, this time, wouldn’t start “right down the street”, but about 6 miles away... Which, ha, I suppose *is* the very definition of "right down the street." No biggie, I took a brief spin through Heritage Park to get to the new c-store on 175th Street near Pflumm, grabbed a bottle of OJ, logged the first receipt, and then got on my way. Nice store... I wish it had longer hours, but I don’t have to work there, so...
Almost immediately, zipping up the handlebar bag and throwing my leg over the top tube, I felt right at home again, the sights, smells, and locale easing me right back into the familiarity of the rando routine. Time to get to it.
Control #1 (Overland Park, technically) to Wellsville:
The first few dozen miles were all very familiar as I made my way south on Pflumm to 183rd for a trip down “memory lane” along some roads that I frequented quite a bit back in 2020-21 on the west side of US-169 highway. A short stretch of gravel and then the big hill coming off of 215th and onto Clare Road ... the last time I climbed this, I was totally on the limit and out of gears, and today it was fairly easy to stay within acceptable “endurance limits” for once. That old saying “it never gets any easier” becomes modified for the randonneur ... you don’t get any faster, but you do learn to relax and spin through it. Though a pure “Zone 2 only” ride was likely out of the question with the climbing to come, taking it easy and staying in “UAF Audax mode” was on my mind.
The first part of the route was largely E/W in nature, thanks to my reversal of the standard permanent layout for this route, so I got to spend some time on 215th Street and then 231st, passing through the old town of “Antioch” near Hillsdale Lake before crossing its northern edge and heading west again, passing the old Rock Creek school house. Before I knew it, the pavement had disappeared and I was well on my way to Wellsville ... and it was already time to take a brief pause for a water refill. Another bottle of OJ for some quick carbs, some water, and after a scant 6 minutes I was rolling again.
Wellsville to Ottawa:
Wellsville is a nice little town, and a quick square detour had me back on the route and heading over I-35... twice... and then westward on Shawnee Road: a great stretch of pavement that heads roughly from Wellsville to Ottawa via Le Loup, crossing the BNSF main line along the way. I personally love the repeating “share the road” signage on this country road, which has been a constant on quite a few local randonneuring routes over the years. I couldn’t help but look longingly north toward Baldwin City, wondering if the brewery was open yet that day. The road eventually turned south, crossed the railroad tracks again (still no train... boo!), and before long I was pulling into the Casey’s on the north end of Ottawa for a quick control ... a bottle of water, and a bag of chips that would go immediately onto the top of the saddlebag for later. I don’t know what it is about certain parts of Ottawa, but, sometimes it just feels like I shouldn’t linger too long. That was one of those moments ... time to roll. Another 6 minute control, in the bag.
Ottawa to Princeton ... almost:
Just like many of the rail-trail adventures I have taken over the last few years, which consisted of driving down to Ottawa to ride the Prairie Spirit Trail (PST) at varied lengths, I found myself in “Escape from Ottawa” mode. The vibe is pretty much always the same, unfortunately: for all of its nice parts, I’d always manage to park next to someone sleeping in their car, or find myself zig-zagging around people that don’t seem to be on the trail for fitness reasons. I’ll leave it at that. Heading south along the trail, I became really fatigued, sitting in HR Zone 3 at a whopping 11-13 MPH, which was not part of the plan ... but, as ever, I had also forgotten (again) that the trail is largely all uphill ... albeit so slight that one’s first reaction is usually exactly what I was feeling: “what’s wrong with me?”. This truly false flat combined with the pea gravel rail-trail surface - compared to the smooth pavement I had just come from - conspired to leave me a bit frustrated at my sudden lack of speed. I let this creep into my subconscious and turn the mood of an otherwise “great day” into a “I suck, I’m never going to finish” mood. That is, until I intervened to snap myself out of it and acknowledged the situation out loud. I then decided to reward myself with a long, 20-minute break on a bench since I hadn’t really taken any sort of break yet, save for the collective 12 minutes already logged. A bit before Princeton I found my bench, sat down, and proceeded to make my bag of potato chips disappear, along with a water bottle for good measure since I likely wasn’t drinking enough at mile 57 on the day. Considering my usual control routine, less than 15 minutes off the bike in almost 100k is pretty good, so the rest seemed reasonable. But, the days of letting time get away from me are gone ... I perhaps blame crewing for the UAF600km back in May, and riding the UAF200km in June for my heavy use of a countdown timer on my wrist these days. Right on the mark, I rolled out - refreshed and fueled, with a quick pull off the Hammer Gel flask for good measure.
Princeton-ish to Garnett:
The decision to stop on a random bench instead of the park benches and tables at the Princeton trailhead, which came only a few miles later, seemed well-founded ... both tables were taken. I had already decided that I’d stop again at Richmond to top off the water bottles for the final run into Garnett. No sooner did I reach Richmond and cross under US-169 did both the fuel start to kick in and the trail finally pitched downhill ... again, very slightly, but the difference was transformative and the miles passed far more easily, despite the slight headwind. I don’t know what it is about this trail, but it always reaches up and smacks me across the face. I always underestimate how long it will take, and how I’ll feel ... but to be completely free of automobile traffic for a few hours is pretty nice. All told, I’m fairly sure the local gravel roads would be faster as a N/S route, and probably just as quiet... the pea gravel on the trail, in some places, may as well be sand and the going can be slow. The eventual uphill pitch of the trail for the last 4 miles into Garnett do not help. Eventually, with slow, steady circles, I arrived, turned west, and made the control at the Short Stop a few minutes after 4:00pm. While EPP would have worked fine, I decided it was a good enough time to top off the bottles and get a paper receipt for good measure ... old habits. But, more potato chips, a candy bar, or soda were not in my plans ... yick. Instead, and also in atypical fashion, I remounted after only 4 minutes and turned my wheels east along 4th Street, stopping at El Jimador Mexican Restaurant. Bike locked, valuables secured, I stepped inside, walked up to the bar, mounted a stool, started a UAF-appropriate 90-minute timer, and ordered a cold beer and some hot food. This is the way. The aches of over 100k slowly faded, and tasty, real-food calories began to seep into tired legs, while I offset the beer with three glasses of water and salty chips and salsa. De-licious!
... but 90-minutes? Even with a friendly barkeep, a familiar TV show, and endless chips, I started to get anxious after only thirty. Despite having a galactic FIFTEEN hours to complete the route, thanks to the additional time afforded for the nearly 50km of gravel, the thought of finishing at 1:00 AM when I hadn’t taken Monday off work sat heavy on my mind as a mistake I’d pay for in lack of sleep and fatigue. 11:30 PM, which at the time was a best guess for a finish, was going to be bad enough. Might as well leave with some time-in-hand. Check paid, I headed outside to get moving. At this point, had I been following a strict UAF time-table, I’d have 20 minutes in hand ... but, it was all downhill from here. I still took the time to chat with a few curious locals finishing their meal ... Turns out they were transplants from the KC area. Small world!
Garnett to Parker:
Heading out of Garnett to the east was a treat. After carefully crossing US-169, I passed the northern end of Garnett’s little regional airstrip, and enjoyed smooth pavement and a slight downhill pitch for the first few miles. Back in the countryside, the vistas opened up on both sides of the road as I was greeted by the usual rural livestock friends; horses and cows, all curious about what I was, and where I was going. Bugs, birds, chickens, and more ... all in harmony as I whisked along, tires whispering happily, and a belly full of good food doing its work to propel me forward. Soon, the road became more interesting, pitching upward to climb up to the (almost) highest point in Anderson County, KS. A long climb in three stages, with a hillside farm on the north followed by more livestock, and finally the local water tower marking the end of my accent - which opened up an expansive view of the rest of the county to the east. What a treat, and what a descent down into the next valley. 1700 Rd changes alignments a few times on its way east before becoming Linn County 536, passing many farms, often getting a little hilly in the process ... but nothing terrible.
Finally reaching Goodrich, KS.... which isn’t much more than a name on a map, it seems, and a railroad crossing ... all I know is, the Post Office closed in 1942. Interesting.
From there, I quickly turned north, looking forward to another resupply at Parker, KS., as the sun began to approach the western horizon to my left. Linn County 1077 is also a pretty nice road, if not a touch busier than I’d sometimes prefer - but to be fair it is the only paved option in the area. “Traffic”, however, wasn’t bad ... and consisted of a couple with their dog in an ATV, who passed me with a wave and plenty of room ... right before the ATV's transmission seemed to let go in dramatic fashion. It wasn’t immediately clear what had happened as I rolled past, where wife and dog were off to one side while the husband began tying a tow rope to the front bumper, offering an honest “howdy” as I rolled by. I was passed by them being towed by a pickup truck maybe 10 minutes later. Bicycling demands patience... while the rest of the world, even if something breaks down, will often still beat you to your destination.
Destination, Parker, KS.! The little store there is a welcome oasis from a couple long stretches of road, and I was looking forward to filled bottles, a fresh receipt, and maybe a rest. Sadly, coming around the corner and crossing the tracks, I could already see the inside of the store was dark and the parking lot largely empty. I’d missed their store closing by over an hour - which is nobody’s fault but mine: it’s a Sunday evening in a small town, and I should have anticipated that possibility. Thankfully, I still had some water left in one of my bottles ... but that also meant that - probably all day - I hadn’t been drinking enough. Not all was lost ... I still leaned the bike up against the building and took the opportunity to check in with home, take on a bit more Hammer Gel, watch a train go by (finally!) and put on my favorite Dill Pickle reflective ankle bands in response to the ever-growing shadows and dimming daylight. Eight or ten miles to Osawatomie was a better surprise than the 20 I had thought... so, I saddled up for a bit more pedaling, with a new goal to get the heck off of Linn Co. 1077 and KS-7 before it was dark. Time to move.
Parker to Osawatomie:
Sitting at mile 92, however, fatigue was beginning to augment my sense of urgency. Smooth pavement and a slight tailwind certainly helped, but it was clear the rest of the ride would be held at a slower pace. I had very little complaint, however, being only 20-30 minutes adrift from a UAF pace but still on track to finish with almost 90 minutes to spare overall meant that I still had time to kill if I wanted it, and I didn’t have to start writing big checks against fading fitness. I even found myself out of the saddle on some of 1077’s climbs, working toward my goal of Osawatomie before dark. Not a moment too soon, the final sizable hill leading up to US-169 and the interchange that would officially mark my entry into Osawatomie ... more or less... happened in quickly fading light. Crossing the old triple archway bridge over the Potawatomie River, my headlight beam guided my way through town and I arrived near the Casey’s, which I was confident would still be open... but, then I noticed the local Sonic drive-in was also still open... save the Clif Bars, get some tots instead!
I set a 45 minute timer, placed my order on the app ... so handy ... and ended up chatting with a friendly employee who had done some bicycle rides between Ottawa, Lawrence, and Garnett in the past. Another small world moment! After our conversation ended and he’d returned to work, the mood was surreal. Because of its location along several other randonneuring routes I’d ridden in the past, I had only seen a bustling, traffic-heavy version of this little town ... people rushing around, the c-stores and businesses near the highway handling dozens of travelers, and having that same sensation that I remembered from Ottawa earlier in the day: the need to get outta town, quick. By contrast, sitting on my own bench at the Sonic, only a few meters from the main drag, it was delightfully quiet save for the gentle din of crickets, and the overhead music... which was also interesting. Sonic, and most restaurants like it, generally play something upbeat, summery, catchy, poppy ... all in tune with fast food, cold drinks, and the imposed magic of their particular vibe. This time the background was 1940’s-era tunes... some swing, orchestra, and encouraging newsreel-style music that is normally accompanied by troops marching up a hill, or a montage of busy factory workers building airplanes on jittery black and white film. Sitting there, alone, eating my food and sipping my drink ... I felt strangely unhurried. Good thing I’d set a timer, which - like before - never had a chance to elapse. After a good 20-or-so minute rest, and after partly considering the employee’s reminder of the option of the motel across the street, I figured it was time to move on. Might as well finish this thing!
Osawatomie to Paola:
What I hadn’t noticed while sitting comfortably under the canopy at the drive-in was the cushion of heat it had captured while the sun had gone down. Walking the bike off the high curb to saddle up and roll out of the parking lot, I was met with suddenly cooler air. Granted, some of this was situational contrast after cooling down from spending the entire day in sunshine under effort, along with the cooling effect of the jersey I’d been wearing. Despite it still being in the low 60’s (F), which is not exactly cold, I felt the need to pull out a light jacket. It was a good choice, however: in addition to the layer provided by my reflective windvest, comfort was immediate ... And it would be even chillier moving through the night air waiting for me ahead. Finally ready, I pedaled out onto the main road and quietly slipped under the main highway to the east under cover of darkness, back in my preferred rural setting once more. Frogs hopped across the road, and a full moon rose directly ahead, greeting me for my final 30-ish miles to home. Happy accident that I chose such a night, a full moon always helps provide some contrast and silhouette for roadside obstacles, landmarks, and well ... it's just cool to look at, especially from the saddle.
Enjoying more smooth pavement on the rural backroads near US-169, the mileposts fell steadily, one by one, as I became vigilant in my desire to not let the successful first 100+ miles of the day devolve into a needlessly rushed death slog. I drank more often than I had during the heat of the day (still need to work on that, even if it takes the ding of an electronic reminder to help me), and stayed on top of calories thanks to my second Hammer Gel flask and the good food at Sonic. While there was still 30 miles to the barn, it was only a scant 10 or so miles to the final control at Paola, so another stop was in the cards ... but it felt nice not to need it.
I was treated to another railroad encounter at 327th and Hospital Road, which forced a quick roadside stop ... "bummer" ... the Paola control was only a few miles ahead.
Paola to Olathe .. er, Overland Park:
Arriving at the penultimate control is always nice. It’s never a guarantee, but in most cases getting the next-to-last control signals the ride being effectively in the bag. For me, it’s also a chance to double check the absolute time limits, maybe pop in the "emergency earbud” for some celebratory music, and ensure enough food is on board to keep the good times rolling. For everything that is often out of our control, hydration, nutrition, and mental acuity are all manageable: keep eating and drinking, and you can effectively go forever (being mindful of sleep, of course).
Rolling into the Casey’s at Paola ... half tempted by another Sonic stop since I rolled RIGHT past another one ... I needed some heartburn relief:
A brief side-story: I’ve been dealing with some GERD symptoms that were being well-managed by medication, but that medication had begun to create some unwanted side effects, and - overall, for me - the long term impacts of perpetual medication just aren’t for me. Such are the hazards of getting old, and perhaps of being stubborn. Coming off that medication has been challenging, and even a month later some wicked rebound heartburn still pops up here and there, depending. In this case, cycling also tends to aggravate it: the crouched over position, the effort, etc., all conspire to often have every hard effort accompanied by really bad heartburn, especially with the over-production of acid that can occur in the wake of proton pump inhibitor medications. The majority of the ride was fine ... but, sometimes it wasn’t. The cold, tasty, carbonated Dr. Pepper that provided easy, cheap carbs and calories back in Osawatomie was surely the culprit here. A quick antacid, and we’re back in business. It’s not perfect yet, but it’s progress ... and after several years on the medications, I can likely expect at least another 4 weeks of these kinds of flare-ups. Time will tell, but - for me - I’d rather deal with it situationally, than deal with the side effects of a medication that lets me get away with everything.
More calories on board, water refilled, Tums applied ... I was ready for the last leg. 21 miles for the final control, and then six more to the house. Let’s do this.
Despite having buckets of time left on the clock and feeling good, I started to prefer certain things ... like pavement. The closing miles have a smattering of gravel, all designed to keep riders on quiet roads, but at this time of night solitude was almost a guarantee in either case. I had only seen one car since leaving Paola, and that was a county sheriff. Taking advantage of RUSA’s free-route rules, I cut off one small gravel leg ... mainly because it was uphill and there was one house whose dog I wasn’t 100% confident would be asleep. After that detour, the mental math started to creep in ... I didn’t want to stop and stare at a map to ensure I wouldn’t be cutting miles by using the paved option (after checking, the paved option is 0.2 miles longer anyways), so I turned right at 287th and got back on the intended path. Better to be safe and RUSA-legal, and I knew the rest of the roads well anyhow.
Zig-zagging my way NE along the Union Pacific railroad corridor, K-68 was crossed with ease, and before I knew it I was crossing the tracks for the last time at Chiles, KS., enjoying the long, generally downhill run of Lackman Road. The miles really began to tick down quickly, back on home turf again. Even Lackman’s longer uphill sections were dealt with easily, then the last bit of gravel between 215th and 199th was in the bag; a section that I expect will be paved in the next 2-3 years, as part of Johnson County’s long term plan (I didn’t say I liked it).
Odd for the hour, I even had a deer encounter just south of 175th and Lackman; a curious pair of green eyes peering back at me in the dark before retreating into the trees ... and thankfully no friends jumping from the opposite roadside. Most deer are moving nearer to sundown, so it was odd to see one so close to the road at ~11:30 PM ... but maybe that’s because traffic had died down enough to prevent it from being scared away.
Traffic was indeed light; even 175th, a road I’ve come to avoid entirely since traffic has increased to county expressway levels in the last few years, was completely deserted ... maybe I should start all of my rides later in the morning now! Eh, I forgot... the workday starts pretty early on Mondays, and after punching in the last control ... and finding that the c-store closed (so much for a post-ride refreshment on the curb), I was a bit disappointed that I still had another 6 miles or so to get home. Eh, it’s more riding... who cares? You’re already out here! ...but, yeah, no, I wasn’t really excited to add any bonus miles.
The last few miles to home:
It didn’t take long to collect the finish control photo and start making tracks for the house, and it occurred to me that I wouldn’t be able to simply retrace my steps through the park back into the neighborhood like I’d hoped since the gates across the road were long since closed ... but the late hour traffic counts made it possible to use two roads that are usually too busy to consider. Instead, I got to enjoy both roads like I remember them from 20-years prior, when nothing was out here but the park and the trees in the surrounding fields. Yeah: old, and a bit stubborn. Memories are nice, even if you have to ride at midnight to experience them. Ticking over midnight, I found myself muttering a quote from Mike Hall about the ride “creeping into another day” as I rolled into the driveway. My alarm was going to ring in less than five hours, but I hardly cared. I suppose I could have called out, but that’s poor form caused by poor planning on my part. Besides, a couple quick winks and some strong coffee ... that’s a better story to tell. In quick succession, I opened the garage, unpacked, drank some protein, showered, put cycling clothes in the washer, and hit the pillow.
In a flash, my alarm was sounding ... but for some reason, I met it with a grin. Well, and a big yawn, too.
Maybe I’ve still got this weird rando bug after all.
Post-ride thoughts:
Sitting here today, as is usually the case, I find myself wondering what I was so worried about ... what was preventing me from “just going”? Well, aside from the myriad reasons that kept me off the bike, far too often it was the constant string of excuses in my head that had taken control of the situation.
I won’t get into the mental health struggles too deeply here, but I will say that I’m probably not alone. Maybe all of this was easier in some distant (or even recent) past, but the only thing that matters is the present, and a very short time into the immediate future. Anything else, well ... why stew about it? But let’s defuse some of my common excuses:
Traffic? A quick preview of anything Mark Beaumont has done on a bicycle will confirm that traffic on my routes isn’t "bad", and - if properly motivated - you can indeed ride through anything, anywhere, at any time of day, in any weather, and not really have any issues. It’s all about perspective. I have begun trying to practice simply dealing with life - and ride conditions - as they are, instead of wishing for what I think they ought to be. There is less resistance this way.
Be smart, of course... because what we can control are the roads and routes we choose, and I will always choose the quieter path, even if it is rockier and less direct.
Difficulty? Let’s face it: life is difficult. This can also be a matter of perspective, after all. We only view life’s challenges through a constant comparison of that which we have endured in the past. For cycling, then ... well, of course it’s difficult. It’s difficult for everyone, even for those seemingly at ease with the distance, the pace, or the terrain. I am trying to consider the notion that easy and worthwhile are not the same thing ... and even if I have “been there, done that”, each new experience is unique and full of lessons - should I choose to accept the opportunity to learn. The payoffs for a little discomfort are often equally unique and rich, so why hesitate? Are we ever worse off for accepting that which seems difficult? Easier said than done sometimes, but I find myself ever interested to see if I can “still do” the difficult things about which I can only remember the good parts.
Weather? Probably. I always tap back into my many viewings of Les Stroud’s Survivorman series. Though aging, each episode is full of parallels to pull from, quotes to carry, and philosophies to echo. One of my favorites remains, “the wind and weather just are ... you can either deal with it, or you can’t.” At this point, there isn’t a single combination of temperature, wind, or precipitation that I haven’t ridden through - or that I don't have the equipment and clothing to handle; and yet, sometimes, weather worries can become a real blocker. Safety should always come first, but with that handled, the weather shouldn’t carry as much clout as I often allow, mentally. Every time I “just go”, I almost never regret it. Only in very recent human history have we enjoyed such luxury and shelter ... I think it does us all some good to occasionally step out of that bubble, and experience what mankind has just naturally endured for millennia. When I think of "that one 200k" back in December of some year, when a trio of us rode all day in temperatures that never exceeded 20°F... Well, why exactly am I in my head about the low 40's? Dress quickly, and go outside.
What will everyone think? In a phrase, “who cares?” I watched a lecture recently that spoke about the impact of social media, movies, and television, on creativity, artistry, and personal purpose. Paraphrased; the outcomes for others always look effortless in that final, polished edit ... and when we try to emulate their actions, and inevitably face challenges, we give up ... because our path didn’t look at all like theirs. Even well-intended documentaries, like the examples cited earlier, admittedly gloss over the really difficult bits. As much as films may speak about pain and suffering, the full truth always lay on the cutting room floor ... hours of pedaling in silence, often in great pain, exhausted and hours from target, staring at a white line that never seems to end, or shivering in a tent praying for sunrise. While there are great moments to share, all great moments have a price. One cannot have one without the other. The beauty of overcoming is in the act itself, including the slogs, the pain, the discomfort, the mental toll of having to keep going. Those moments are no less beautiful, no less important, even when we can’t quite navigate past them. If we’re worried about what others might think if we fail, we must then question for whom we’re doing things.
Whatever you’re doing, post it anyways; especially the dramatic DNFs, even the short, “pointless” rides ... why? Because the world needs to know that worthwhile things are difficult and occasionally don’t go as planned. We need to denormalize the apparent ease with which influencers seem to outpace us.... and, honestly, stop scrolling and start pedaling. Further, especially for the short rides that “nobody” cares about, post those also. People equally need to know that difficult things require iterations and improvements. All of the small steps, the slow recovery rides, etc.: they all matter. If we only post the “amazing” things, we risk a disservice. We risk perpetuating the illusion that difficult things are “easy” ... and then we're doomed, stuck believing the lies we tell one another, and eventually none of us will try anything hard anymore. That will be a truly sad day.
So ... as much as I say this to myself, I say it to you also: if you wait for things to be perfect, you'll never go.... And if you never go? Well, you'll never know.
Let's go.
Thanks for reading!
