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.