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Day forty-seven – the last day of riding and our journey will be complete. That’s a lot to process given the experience we have had. So many thoughts – too many to capture here, so – for today – I’ll stick with the immediate and write more about the aftermath when I’ve had time to process.
The day started like any other of the last 47 days. I got up and showered in spite of having showered just before dinner last night. This has been part of my morning ritual for the last 47 days to help warm my body, loosen muscles and wake myself up for the ride ahead. After my shower, I dressed in my kit for the day. We were all wearing our black Trek Travel kits to ride into Portland today, so the choice was easy. As usual, I was up early so breakfast had not yet started. I took the time to finish the minimal packing I had to do. After forty-seven days, getting in and out of hotels in a short amount of time had become routine. I had developed a system that worked and allowed me to feel confident I wasn’t leaving pieces of myself behind. For anyone who has traveled extensively, you are familiar with the ‘what have I left behind?’ feeling. My system ensured I was able to walk out the door with confidence that I had left nothing behind, and everything was where it should be.
I made my way to breakfast and enjoyed what would be the last of the powdered eggs I’d be eating for some time. I enjoyed a waffle given that the waffle mix was already prepared and I’d not likely be eating waffles at home anytime soon either. It felt like a good breakfast send off.
Our luggage needed to be in the van by 7 am in order for it to be driven to Portland ahead of us today. At least one of the riders didn’t get that memo, but all was fine as we still had two vans with us.
We set out on our way to complete the final 66 miles and 2200 feet of climbing. The route talk was like any other, but with a few extra details regarding some differences given the importance of the day and that it wouldn’t end at a hotel with a post-ride setup but instead end at the beach just south of Portland. I’m not sure if it was anxiety or excitement, but the route talk seemed to take longer than usual. I was keen to get rolling and finish out this last day.
We had a beautiful ride through the countryside and, while excited about finishing, I was mindful about taking in the scenery and being present in the moment. It was difficult to do, but I did my best. I enjoyed the quiet riding with Ken and Bob. It allowed me to pause, take deep breaths, and look around at the changing colors of the foliage. They were a wonderful reminder of the seasons of life and how we, too, change. This trip was transformational for me in so very many ways that I haven’t fully shared in my writings to date. I plan to do so as I process the entire experience and have the time to honor with the appropriate level of thoughtfulness to fully express them in the most meaningful way possible.
After two rest-stops and a stop for lunch, we rode the last stretch of 8 miles or so to the beach. We would regroup at the sign at the entrance to the state park and ride in together. I teared up behind my glasses several times during the last stretch. It was hard to believe that we were down to single digit miles to be ridden. How did we do this? How did we come this far? What had we just done? We had seen so very much, but everything was a blur. We began the last half-mile ride from the entrance to the park to the beach where our friends and family were waiting. As we rounded the last corner into the parking lot where they were waiting at the beach, we could hear their cheers, and the whistles and cowbells ringing. This was for us and for what we had done. I’ve never liked this kind of adulation, and it makes me uncomfortable. As we rode toward the crowd, I decided to enjoy the moment and celebrate what we’d done and pumped my fist in the air as we approached the small but mighty and loving crowd waiting for us.
We got off our bikes and found our loved ones to hug them and share a tear or two… or more. Heath was there and seemed to have difficulty finding me in the sea of matching black jerseys and mostly white helmets. We found each other and we both cried.
Once we’d had our moments with friends and loved ones, we retrieved our bikes and made our way to the beach to dip our wheels in the Atlantic Ocean. This was the moment for me. I had imagined this moment from the time I first learned of this trip and now, here I was, dipping my wheel in the Atlantic Ocean marking the final step in completing this journey. To be clear, the journey wasn’t just the ride over the last forty-seven days – but the months of training and preparation leading up to the ride. It was the hours of cycling on my bike trainer and outdoor cycling. It was the countless visits to the gyms to strengthen my body. It was the hours of running and swimming in the pool to contribute to the training but get me off my bike while doing so. It was the nutritional management that helped me shed roughly twenty pounds before the ride giving me less to carry along the way. It was all of it. And here I was, at the culmination, having completed my goal of riding every fucking inch. When it was my turn for a photo, I hoisted my bike above my head as though it was weightless. I felt unstoppable. After celebrating with group photos, champagne and hugs and tears, we made our way to the hotel.
Once at the hotel, I enjoyed a long hot shower and curled up in bed in the cozy robe provided by the hotel. We would have a dinner later in the day, but – for now – I was in the hotel with Heath and there was nothing to do to prepare for riding the next day. It was a moment to stop, pause and relax in the moment of what I’d just done.
We wrapped up our day with a wonderful dinner in the hotel shared with our friends and family. Kyle gave a moving toast to our achievement quoting Robert Frost and ‘The Road Less Traveled’. He shared that we had ridden by where Robert Frost had done much of his writing, making it even more relevant and moving. We were treated to a wonderful slideshow montage of the photos from our trip. Our friends and family found it enjoyable to see moments from our journey, and the entire room found ourselves laughing and cheering together. Marty, one of our guides, had taken amazing drone footage and let it run on a loop while we ate.
The evening was ending and Bob left without saying goodbye but sent a text. At the moment, I was a little upset, but I too found myself slipping out quietly and debating breakfast in the morning. Saying ‘goodbye’ will be difficult. But we will live on together in our memories of what we saw and achieved along the last forty-seven days.
For now, it’s time to transition out of the bubble and back to real-life. I look forward to returning to the routine before the ride – but with a new perspective that I hope to carry on with me for the rest of my life.