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.