looking back

In the days after the Big Ride ended, my heart was heavy. I'd become so close to all of these people, and shared and amazing experience and bond, and they were all gone. It was a really tough transition back into the "real world".

I went for a run they day after the ride ended, and that served as day 1 of marathon training. I don't know what marathon, but I need to do something to keep myself out of trouble!

I like to make lists. I think they're nice. I've made a few throughout this trip, and now seems like a reasonable time to share them. So here goes...

Lessons learned

Bicycles work best when you keep the rubber side down.

Underwear is overrated

Flip flops are underrated

My bucket list

Learn (really learn) French and Spanish

Bicycle across every continent (except the really cold one... who needs that?)

Bicycle the Tour de France route

Run a marathon

Learn how to scuba dive

Things I’ll miss

The companionship

The beautiful simplicity of life on the road

The trail mix

The exercise and the endorphins

Possible funding sources to support my new life plan of being a fulltime bicycler

Become an immensely excellent blogger and rake in ad revenues

Game the lottery system (all those statistics courses have got to be useful for something! :o))

Become a day trader

Two days before my scheduled flight, I got an email from the UK Border Agency -- my work visa was approved. One day before my scheduled flight, my passport, shiny new visa and all, was back in my hands. On the day of my scheduled flight, I boarded the plane and headed off for a new adventure.

I'll finish with the motto that developed over the last days of the trip... while I may no longer be a Big Rider, I'll always ride big. :o)

the last day

We awoke in the morning with heavy hearts, and also many with heavy heads, a remnant of the previous night's celebrations. We packed up the gear truck as usual, all knowing that it wasn't usual. The next time our bags came out of that truck would be the last time. They'd be going into our hotels and cars, ready to be scattered around the country along with all of us.

As luck would have it, I'd managed to get myself stuck with one last breakfast duty, but I wasn't left behind because everyone lingered at the campsite this morning, saying their goodbyes and delaying the last journey. We rode slowly and in large groups through the forests of Maryland. Then the boys took off (typical! ;o)). Caitlin and I rode together through mile 15 or so, at which point it suddenly seemed a good idea to catch the boys. And catch them, we did.

I kept cycling and cycling, as hard as I could. Taking out all of my frustrations and anxieties on the road. I was on a free fall from space to earth... but on a bicycle. Suddenly I noticed that I was all by myself. I'd passed them all, and while this trip has been an amazing lesson in learning how much more you can do as a group than as an individual, it has also been a period of immense personal growth. Physically, I became much stronger -- if you recall on the first day of the trip, I was the little lantern rouge bringing up the rear of the train. And here I was on our last day ahead of all others (to be fair, I'm sure they weren't riding their hardest... but still, it was something!). In addition to gaining physical strength, I'd grown tougher mentally as well. Who in the world knew that if you just kept your marbles together minute by minute, you'd end up on the other side of the country? It was an amazing lesson in what you can do when you put your mind to it. And by "you", I mean YOU. If I can do this, Lord knows anyone else can do it. I am not particularly athletic. I am no fine physical specimen. I'm just a girl who decided to do something and did it. And if I can do that, then I'm absolutely certain you can set your mind to, and do, incredible things too. Okay, inspirational moment over... returning to the story. :o)

The last several miles of the route were on a bicycle path in D.C., and it was filled with other bikers, joggers, and walkers. As I was riding along, a fellow on a bicycle behind me must have ready my bicycle jersey (designed by the amazing Daria Kurkjy)...

... and noticed that it was our last day of a cross country trip. We started chatting, and he carried his journey on to show me through town so I wouldn't have to work out the route alone. We cycled around the amazing sites of D.C. together, taking pictures as we went, and it was glorious to have a personal tour guide to point all the cool buildings and history I would have otherwise missed.

We all met for lunch together at a Greek restaurant owned by a Big Ride alumni. He very kindly serves an amazing (and amazingly large) lunch of heavenly Greek food for the riders on their last day. He had also put together a collage of photos from previous Big Rides in the shape of the U.S. It was amazing to see part of the larger tradition in which I'd been able to participate, and also to see some of the phenomenal alumni -- one woman did not have the use of her legs but pedalled her way across America using a hand powered bicycle. Another alumni did the Big Ride once, lost a leg in an accident, and came back and did the Big Ride again with a single leg. Another rider had lost his leg and had a prosthetic leg. As difficult as this journey was for me, I can't imagine how much effort was required for these heroes to journey across America.

As the other riders trickled in, it wasn't immediately clear when we should be saying our goodbyes. After lunch, we were all going to bicycle onto the Mall and meet our families near the reflect pool. Perhaps that was the time? But then we had to meet by the gear truck to get our bags... maybe it was better then? Or perhaps now, over lunch, was the right time? I couldn't bring myself to do them... so I just kept shovelling Greek food into my mouth.

We rode two by two from the restaurant to the National Monument, spaced out by a few minutes between pairs, so that we could all get our medals and get to our families without mass chaos. Bestie and I rode in together and had to tell jokes the whole way to keep from crying. It was a bittersweet ending.

It was great to see my family, and I was so glad that they had been able to meet me at the finish. Also, my sweet friends Jen and Steve came and met me at the finish line. It was all a great swirl of emotion, and the afternoon passed in a blur. There were several logistical items to be sorted out -- getting to the hotel, collecting our bags from the gear truck -- and I was able to distract myself with these for a while. However, as I said goodbye to everyone (it could be put off no longer), my heart was so heavy. I said goodbye to Bestie last, and at that point I began to cry. When I walked into the lobby of the hotel, I fell apart and the tears ran freely.

My poor family had come all of this way and probably thought I would be happy to see them, but there I was sitting on the floor of the hotel room, a sobbing disaster. My sweet Mom kept pulling out goodies, like chocolates, and handing them to me in an effort to help patch up the situation.

That night, it rained outside. And of all things, I wanted nothing more than to be in my tent with the pitter patter of rain drops splashing down around me.

reception @ the bassett

One of the youngest riders, Geena, turned 18 today, and we celebrated with birthday bagels. We had a pretty easy ride into Poolesville, Maryland despite a detour that added 5 miles to the day. We camped at the local high school and showered at the county pool down the road.

As tomorrow is the last day of the Big Ride, we had a closing reception at a local restaurant, The Bassett. Bridgett, an American Lung Association employee and organizer of the Big Ride, met us and talked about "re-entry" into the real world. Charlton, the ride leader, shared a few tips. The first was to "keep riding.... or stop eating" and warned us about continuing to eat at our current rate without continuing to exercise as much. He also reminded us that we "can't pee anywhere you like anymore". As we laughed and talked, my heart grew heavy.

I'd known that it was all drawing to a close. As we got further into our journey, the commentary of people we met turned from "Heck, you've got a long way to go. Hope you make it!" to "Well, I reckon you're about half way there" to "You're nearly there, it won't be long now. I can't believe you've come so far". I'd ticked off nearly all of the states on our route, and the vegetation had evolved from the wild cacti of the west to the more familiar deciduous greens of the east. So while I "knew" it would be ending soon, I didn't know it, know it until today. At these "closing ceremonies," there was no escaping it.

Throughout the evening, it was like a league of black clouds assembled right over my head forming a little storm -- one cloud scampered in from stage right proclaiming "You have such a happy, simple, adventure-filled life right now, and it's about to come to an end"; the next cloud appeared from stage left telling me "You're never going to see all these people that you've grown so close to again"; the next one seemed to assemble in little bits from all directions and told me "Your visa won't be approved, and you won't be able to move back to England"; and the last one swooped down from directly above announcing "You have no back up plan in life about where to live or what to do. You're a drifter with no future."

I might have been able to handle any of these clouds on their own, but together, when they teamed up on me like this, I didn't stand a chance. And, while I knew that some of the clouds were lying, or at least stretching the truth, I didn't have the willpower at the time to reason with them. It was a sad night of goodbyes as the little storm raged over my head.

rest day in gettysburg

It was the 4th of August. I finally mailed my visa application today. My flight to England leaves on the 10th of August. My fingers and toes are crossed.

Gettysburg is a cute little town, but very touristy. I cycled through the battlefields, but, as usual, I think Daria describes the history of the town so well in her blog, that I won't attempt my own rendition. :o)

I spent the day with my sister BJ and her daughters exploring Gettysburg, which is steeped in the history of the Civil War. The famous Battle of Gettysburg was fought from July 1 - 3, 1863. It was the turning point in the Civil War and also the battle with the largest number of casualties.

The two armies suffered between 46,000 and 51,000 casualties. Union casualties have been estimated to be 23,055 (3,155 killed, 14,531 wounded, 5,369 captured or missing). Confederate casualties have been more difficult to estimate, but the most definitive work puts the number at 23,231 (4,708 killed, 12,693 wounded, 5,830 captured or missing). Nearly a third of Lee's army was killed, wounded, or captured.

The Gettysburg Address was delivered by Lincoln on November 19, 1863, at the dedication of the Soldiers' National Cemetery, four and a half months after the Union armies defeated those of the Confederacy at the Battle of Gettysburg. Although it is one of the best-known speeches in United States history, scholars have long disputed the exact wording. The Bliss version below is viewed by many as the standard text:

“Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation, so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.
But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”

the hills of pennsylvania in earnest

What was a light tinkle of rain upon the tent when I went to sleep last night was a steady onslaught from above when I awoke this morning. Very happily, not a drop of it had reached my cozy cocoon inside. I was up very early as it was my team's turn for breakfast duty. As I walked back to our campsite from the bathroom, many of the riders had turned on a lantern or flash light inside their tents, and the multi-colored lit up tents look like little gum drops dotting the landscape. I realized that, while I'm generally a failure at putting up my tent, I kind of love it. The simplicity that a life on the move enforces is something I've come to savour.

I was really itching to mail in my visa application, and despite having to ride 100 miles today over hilly Pennsylvania, I was aiming to make it to Gettysburg in time to mail it, so I jetted out in the morning. Despite a flat tire, I made really good time, and the morning got even better when I spotted a Hardee's near the first checkpoint (I simply do not possess the ability to say 'no' to their cinnamon raisin biscuits). However, it turns out that the first bit of the ride was the easy bit. It got far hillier after the first checkpoint. However, I carried on at a good clip to the lunch stop. At that point, I ate very nearly my weight in food. I generally try to keep lunches light, but today I was absolutely famished. The last twenty miles of hills had completely depleted me of energy.

After stuffing myself full of all the food I could get my hands on, I took off with Caitlin with me this time. However, we got turned around heading out of the park that served as the lunch stop, and went several miles out of the way. Grrr, my plan for getting into Gettysburg to mail my application was not looking good. The hills we encountered throughout the afternoon were actually really rough and seemingly endless. As soon as we'd trudge ourselves up one, another one would show up. And another. And another. My rear end was so displeased with the whole matter, that, on multiple occasions, it threatened to resign and seek employment elsewhere. While the hills were not to my liking, the roads in Pennsylvania were fairly good for cycling. As Daria put it in her blog...

I have been very impressed with the cycling routes in Pennsylvania. In addition to the vast rail trail system that we rode on the last two days, Pennsylvania maintains a series of routes on its roads to provide cyclists with bicycle routes that cross the state. These routes were created throughout the 2000s. Much of the credit for this system goes to Former Governor Tom Ridge, an avid cyclist.

I had all of my visa application papers with me, and I was desperate to find a place to mail it today. I mean, I was seriously down to the wire -- if I don't get it mailed in soon, then there was no way I'd make my flight back to England. As we carried on battling the brutal hills through the afternoon, I began to realize that I wouldn't make it to a post office today either. I got more desperate and I got more grumpy, and poor Caitlin had to deal with me.

When we stopped in a cornfield to... powder our noses, I had a proper temper tantrum. A few years ago, I was in the airport on my way somewhere, and our flight had been delayed and delayed, and we were all tired and fussy, and I saw a little girl throw herself down on the ground and have a real temper tantrum, limbs flailing, mouth wailing. At the time, I was so exhausted and frustrated, I could think of nothing I'd rather do than throw myself on the ground beside her and join in. Ever since that time, I've lamented the social unacceptability of temper tantrums for adults. Sometimes it's just necessary. While, until this point, I've avoided having one myself, on this day, it was unavoidable.

It was cold. It had rained all day long. I have no visa. I have no post office. I have no life plan. I have no future. Or so I was telling myself. The inability to find a post office had spiraled out of control into a full blown life crisis. So I jumped up and down and cried and stomped. It felt amazing. Like gloriously amazing. Everyone should try it. Would most highly recommend it.

We carried on to a gas station just up the road, and went on what can only be described as a feeding frenzy. Despite stuffing myself at lunch, I was famished again. These hills took every bit of energy in me and drained it right out. I was so exhausted and out of it, I walked around the store four times looking for a Coke, and only found it when Caitlin asked me why I was tromping about and pointed out the Coke. I persuaded Caitlin to join me in my feeding frenzy, and we sat on the floor of the gas station munching on an appetizer of donuts while a pizza was baked for us and I continued my tantrum. Caitlin should get a medal for dealing with me that day.

We sat on the floor a while longer staring out the window and willing the rain to stop. We were still 20 miles away from Gettysburg, but I felt like I'd already ridden 200 that day. We were so exhausted. Lynn, one of the crew members, came along. We solicited a pep talk. We were staying in dorms for the upcoming rest day (hooooray!), so we asked all of the vital questions -- do we get a towel? do we have internet? do we get our own room? can a fairy come along and carry us the rest of the way?

We finally mustered up the energy to walk out into the cold, cold rain and get back on our bicycles. We plowed through the last 20 miles, fuelled by pizza and coke, and I've never been so happy to see a town as I was to see Gettysburg.

Before today, I was getting really sad that our trip was nearing an end. After today's really tough ride, I'm not so sure I'm so sad to see it all end. I think they make today's ride like it is to kind of ween us off the Big Ride. If that was their intent, I've fallen for it hook, line, and sinker.

the slowest morning and the fastest afternoon

We had an option of riding on the trail by the river again this morning or doing a really challenging, hilly bit. I hemmed and hawwed about it, but I'd heard tails that tomorrow's ride into Gettysburg, 100 miles of brutal hills, was the hardest of the trip. I decided going into that worn out wasn't the way forward, so I went on the trail with Caitlin, Sarah, and Kasey. I think we got it in our minds that since we'd chosen the easy route, we were going to take it to the extreme and have a blissfully easy morning. We puttered along on the trail at an easy 9 m.p.h., and stopped for a leisurely second breakfast in Rockwood, PA. We also stopped for a bit to repair Kasey's flat tire.

We figured that the others would have such a hard time with the hills that we'd have no problem getting to the point where the paths merged with time to spare. We figured wrong. The others had long since gone by the time we made it to the meet up point.

I actually have a harder time going slow in the mornings. It kind of sets the tone for the whole day. Also, I like to cover as many miles as I can in the morning, so by the time I hit a wall, I don't have so far to go. If I take it easy in the mornings, I still get tired around 1, but then still have a lot of miles ahead of me. So, while I enjoyed the leisurely morning of girly chit chat on the trail, I was rearing to go by the time we got back on the roads.

I think Caitlin felt similarly, so we took off together. It was a tough afternoon with some really difficult climbs. However, I've learned that big climbs means big descents, and I've learned to like them. When you hear the number "40", you may think of the number of days that Noah and crew spent on the ark. Or perhaps the number of days in Lent. However, when I now think of 40, it reminds me of today and how I went (Mom -- earmuffs) 40 MILES PER HOUR down the hills of Pennsylvania. It was glorious. And terrifying. I feel like such a wild child! I am usually the cautious child, but I've learned to love the feel of the wind in my hair as I whiz down the hills without squeezing the brakes the whole time.

We went through Somerset, PA today, the sight of the Flight 93 crash and memorial. Being there was incredibly moving. From the moment I walked up, a knot appeared in my throat and choked me nearly to tears. It's all too much to take in and comprehend. Mainly I felt immense gratitude -- for the sacrifice the passengers of Flight 93 made, and that I was born in a country where I can experience freedom in its full form, and for those who have made that possible throughout the history of this country. And also amazement at their bravery. And sorrow for their loss and for their families who continue living without them. And confusion about why it happened, and how different modern warfare is, and what a clash different cultures can make when they meet, and how complex our world is. And an immensely heavy and palpable sadness.

Also, a bit from Daria's blog on her experience there:

Visiting the memorial was an extremely emotional experience. Although the 9/11 tragedy occurred almost ten years ago, the memories of that day came flooding back. The crash of Flight 93 is particularly relevant to our journey as it is widely presumed that the intended target of Flight 93 was the United States Capitol Building in Washington, D.C. If the events of that day had unfolded differently, the Capitol Building might not exist.

Tonight was the second to last time I'll have to put up my tent (not that anyone, especially not me :o), is counting), and I borrowed some stakes to replace the ones I'd lost in my frenzied rain-induced panics to shelter my exposed belongings, or accidentally left at other campgrounds. They made a big difference, and kept the rain off me. I even enjoyed the light tinkle of the rain falling lightly on the tent. This was a campground with Wifi internet available throughout, so I felt like I was living the life of luxury that night. I sat in my tent, AND IT WAS DRY, surfing the internet. I reckon it's better to get the hanging of putting up a tent, such that it stays dry, late rather than never.

the hills of pennsylvania

From the very first day of this trip, I've heard about the hills of Pennsylvania. At orientation, the trip leaders talked about how the Rockies would be nothing compared to the hills of Pennsylvania. Although the Rockies are higher, the hills of Pennsylvania are far steeper. We were told that there were hills so steep in Pennsylvania, we could get to going over 60 miles per hour going down them. One reason the trip was organized so that we ride from west to east is that we wouldn't be strong enough to ride up them at the beginning of the trip. Bernie, one of the riders -- and one of the stronger riders at that -- is from Pennsylvania and told harrowing tails of the hills of Pennsylvania.

I've gotten myself so worked up about these hills of Pennsylvania that I have literally had dreams about them. I've convinced myself of two things: 1) I will not be able to bicycle up the hills, and will end up on the side of the road walking my bicycle up the hills, if not crawling. 2) If I do manage to make it successfully over the hills of Pennsylvania, I'd certainly be able to fly straight to the moon.

Today was my first real experience with the hills of Pennsylvania. And while the morning was a pretty tough ride -- and it was quite hilly as anticipated, with the steepest hill having a grade of 17% -- I think I'd built it all up so much that bicycling straight up a vertical wall would have been easier than the task of bicycling the hills of Pennsylvania as I'd imagined it.

We also bicycled through the Mingo Creek County Park and then entered the Youghiogheny River Trail, a railway turned into a dirt trail, that we stayed on the rest of the day. It's part of the Great Allegheny Passage, 350 mile trail between Pittsburgh, PA and Washington D.C. The trail is a "rails to trails" project, where a disused railway was converted into a trail of crushed limestone. As trains cannot go up steep hills, the grade is less than 1% at all times -- so even though we were going uphill all day, it was never very steep. Praise the Lord for trains! When we began on the trail, the ground we were riding on was just higher than the river. As we continued throughout the day, under the tree-provided canopies, we continually climbed until eventually we were high above the Youghogheny River and it looked like a slim line below.

I rode with Geena and Caitlin for most of the morning, and it was so relaxing to not have to worry about cars and traffic on the trail. For once, we were the only vehicles on the road! A Big Ride alumni, Fred Husak, very kindly provided lunch for us all. He and his family brought out Subway sandwiches (James Lynn, a sweet little man who has developed somewhat of a celebrity status on the trip and who I've never seen pass up the opportunity to stop at a Subway ("You always know what you're going to get"), was beside himself), fruit, cookies, and chips. I wanted to get into town early to find a printer to print some papers for my visa, so I took off before the others, and was trying to make good time to get into town before the library closed. Try as I may, it was hard to get much above 15 m.p.h. on the relatively softer surface of the trail.

On the opposite side of the river, a train line is still in use. On several occasions, I found myself riding along parallel to a train on the opposite bank, looking down up the distant Youghiogheny River, earthy smells rising up from the dark ground, and a leafy canopy of green keeping me safe from the sun. Life just seemed right.

I made it to town in time to grab the necessary papers from my luggage and jet over to the library before four. I was confident it would still be open. And had it been a day of the week the library is open, I would have been fine. But I arrived at the library to find it was closed on Mondays. FAILURE. I headed into town, feeling defeated, but found a bicycle shop, Confluence Cyclery, where the very kind owners let me use their computer and printer for free. I'm now one step closer to completing this miserable application! However, there was no Fedex / UPS in town, and the post office was closed, so I'm going to have to wait until tomorrow to mail it in to the UK Embassy in New York.

Confluence was a teensy little town, and I found out at the bicycle shop that most restaurants are closed on Mondays. I picked up some chocolate milk and blueberries from the local grocery store, Diamond Produce, and headed back to our campsite, Suder's campgrounds, on the edge of town. After convincing Bestie to throw some of my clothes in to her laundry when she went in town to the laundromat (in exchange for some of my blueberries... she has a weakness for blueberries), setting up camp, and showering off, I went to eat at the nearby Lucky Dog Cafe with several others. It's amazing how close we've all grown through the trip. At the beginning, mealtime conversation was polite, tentative, and awkward. At dinner tonight, we couldn't stop laughing. I am really going to miss this.