To modify a Confucian saying - a journey of 10,000 kilometers begins with the single turn of the pedals. Yes, south of Umea I hit the magic 10,000 kilometer mark on the odometer, and I had to take the picture. Sort of like when you beat Super Mario Brothers taking a picture of the final game screen. Although it was cool to hit that mark, I have to confess, this was not one of my better riding days. The route that day took me on some small dirt tracks that were represented as roads on the map, but were really muddy ruts that ran through forests. It rained mid-morning, and the tracks turned to a muddy paste that really bogged my tires down, with mud spraying all over my bike and gear. The rear derailleur got totally clogged with mud and would jam any time I applied the slightest torque to the cranks - I seriously thought I was in danger of ripping the whole apparatus off. Then in the afternoon it got really cold, the signposting on the roads totally disappeared to where I was no longer sure where I was going, and I wiped out big time (two times) when the roads turned frozen, one time at high speed where I was sent skidding 15 feet away from the point of impact. It was a good thing that the roads were abandoned, because there was some serious profanity streaming out of my mouth. But, there are good days and bad days, and this was just one of the few bad days. (11-5-04)