The Salar de Coipasa and the bodies that got us there.
First Scott being, well, himself. A more lean version than when we started this adventure.
The other day I saw my naked reflexion in a full-length mirror for the first time in a long time. I used to see a body too thin for its frame, the shadow of ribs, the outline of collarbones. In less confident moments, I would wonder if this body was strong enough to cycle to the southern end of South America.
Now I see a machine staring defiantly back at me. The bony edges more prominent than ever. I see muscles grown and hardened over mountains, headwinds and unimagined terrain. I see the scars and wounds not yet healed from the times bike and body fell out of harmony and lost the battle with gravity. I see tan lines so distinct they’ll endure long after our last mile. The exposed skin now freckled and dry, weathered from the unforgiving elements. I see a body too preoccupied with survival to be concerned with beauty. I see the stories of 16,000 miles and I am proud of this body for taking me there.