Flat tires and high hopes

Bend in the River Park in Rice, Minnesota, was a beautiful way to start my morning. I was up and on my bike before 8, and I was so excited to make progress. As I pulled out of the lower parking area, I noticed the drag from the right cart wheel.
"I've never fixed a flat before" I remember thinking as I looked up and down the long stretch of road. It was too early for people, so turned back into the lot and grabbed my tools.
I pried the rubber off pretty easily, the dry rot and cracks made it pretty malleable. I pulled out the inner tube looked as thoroughly as I could. After inflating it, but still not finding the hole, I thought back to spending time in Virginia.
I was helping Julio replace a water heater when he told me to put soapy water on the hose to find a leak. He mentioned putting the hose underwater if it were smaller.
I grabbed the pump, tossed the hose over my shoulder, and made my way through the trails, down to the canoe launch along the mighty Mississippi River. I fought the spiderwebs and early morning mosquitoes to the rivers edge, where I submerged the simple piece of rubber that's helping me along my journey. I laughed when the bubbles reviled the flaw that had caused the delay in my morning.
Walking back to my bike and trailer that I left along the fence,I thought back to when Ben in Texas was saying how great it would be to travel on bike instead of foot. I was so stubborn in my want to go exactly the way I wanted, I'm fully aware how much I didn't believe him. I remember how strong it felt to prove him wrong, that I could walk this trail and not use wheels. I looked at the pump in my hand and said to it "he was right". Though there was no response, I felt the tension in my shoulders lift. He wasn't trying to be right, he was trying to help.
I sat in the gravel and removed my tire repair kit that was a last-minute buy at the Lake Itasca bike shop. The instructions were minimalistic, and I bit my lip thinking of what to do.
A car I thought was empty made it's way from the back corner of the lot towards where I was contemplating my repair. I looked up to see stickers with symbols I recognized, and smiled as I waved. The eye contact was short, and the tires spun gravel as the car zipped out of my sight.
"I can do this" I heard my voice say, and in a matter of a minute had the inner tube back in it's home, full of air and holding weight.
I looked down at the black marks covering my hands. A Clear Vision of my dad popped into my head, him standing in the garage, wiping his hands on dirty grease rags. I visualized him his fingers clean, blowing his nose on the towel, and tossing it in a bucket. He always makes silly noises when he does things like this, similar to a "hi-yah", and it always makes me happy.
Back on the bike, back onto the trail, I looked at the map and saw the next 7 miles would not have a shoulder. I took a deep breath and felt my feet start moving.
I can keep moving. I can do this. I'm not alone.