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September 2, 2005

It is finished. I made it to the Atlantic.

I really don’t know how to dive into this entry, the last one of this trip.

I think the main thing that continues to become more and more evident is that this trip was just one of many adventures; the journey continues. Since Saturday, the continuing journey has already proven to be one full of wonderful surprises, ups, downs, and everything in between.

I guess I’ll give you one last run down of the final days and let the rest stem from that…

Wednesday I left Richmond and headed down to Jamestown. On the way out of Richmond I passed the Richmond Times-Dispatch building. I spoke with an editor a day earlier who told me he would get back to me and, of course, never did. So, surprised to ride right by it, I decided to stop in and pay him a visit. He ended up thanking me for my persistence and paired me up with a writer and a photographer. After a little interview and photo op, I really got on the road and made my way toward Jamestown.

That was the last great ride of the trip. 54 miles in three hours, non-stop; just a great ride of spinning along the great road of route 5, which runs along the James.

I got to the campground and was met by an 18 year-old girl who seemed to find pleasure in charging sweaty cyclists $25 to pitch a tiny backpacking tent on their property. Unwilling to pay such a ridiculous price, I called a friend who lives in Williamsburg and asked if she’d be willing to play host to a stranded cyclist. She said she’d love to help the cause and I headed over. Thanks again Jessica, it was great catching up on everything.

Thursday I left Williamsburg, crossed the James River, and got that much closer to the Beach. I had planned on camping out that night as well. I was about three miles from the campground when I came upon a closed bridge, sending me roughly 8 miles back out of my way. The detour put me on a road that would take me right to my house in Portsmouth if I stayed on it. Being the sucker for surprises that I am, I decided to stay on that road and shock my family by surprising them a day early.

They were very excited that I decided to do that. Someone spotted me as I pulled up to the house and the sounds of screams and surprise carried them outside to welcome me. It was great to see everyone. We went out to dinner and enjoyed our early reunion.

Friday I took a short ride over to Chesapeake where I was able to enjoy a little picnic dinner with some of my family that had made rather long trips to come enjoy the Finish Line festivities with us. It was a nice night of hanging out and enjoying the company of family the night before the big day.

That night I camped out in the Chesapeake City Park. It was nice to spend that final night on a picnic table, like so many before it. I ended up going for a midnight walk around the park. It turned into a pretty nice chat with God; talking about the shear wonder of it all, the amazing fortune He blessed me with in assembling the trip, thanking Him for the many blessings He provided while out there on the trip… I told Him how I couldn’t believe how quickly it all went. It was hard to believe I was in a park I had been to many times before on the eve of the final day of a cross-country bicycle ride.

Friday morning came pretty quickly. I woke up with the sun one last time and went for another walk. It was a nice morning. I didn’t know how I would feel as the day would progress, so it was nice to enjoy the quiet, early minutes and ease myself into it.

I made my way over to Panera where I killed a few hours before heading toward the Beach. The main thing I did, while I hung out and enjoyed my bagel and coffee, was arrange a thorough sample of my pictures from the trip for the running slide show that night at the party. That, too, turned into a great look back at the trip. It stirred up many memories, thoughts, and emotions as I went through each picture and remembered the entire trip day by day.

I left Panera close to 11, and rode over to a McDonald’s for lunch. I left McDonald’s around 12:30 and headed for Virginia Beach. The short stints of the ride that day were filled with all kinds of scattered emotions; I couldn’t figure out how I felt. As I got closer to the Beach it started to become a bit surreal. I stopped at a Chic-Fil-A a couple miles from the Beach and made myself breathe while I had a little ice cream cone. I figured, I started the trip eating everything in sight, may as well end it that way too…

It was 2 o’clock when I left Chic-Fil-A, and I rode to a nearby park to kill the last extra minutes before getting to the Beach at 3. I walked around and took one more look back at all the elements that led to that very walk. It was overwhelming. I’d get chills thinking about one thing, then I’d start laughing at the fact that it actually happened, then I’d remember another moment that made me stop and think just, “wow”… It was crazy.

Then, maybe the saddest moment of the day, I walked back over to my incredibly faithful steed, put on my helmet, and asked her if she was ready…

I know it’s only a bike, but it’s really not. That bike was my vessel; it brought me back home. I remember being out in Oregon, looking at the bike, thinking, “So, this is it.” That was the bike I had entrusted to carry me 4,000 miles and take me all the way home. And it did. I got on her one last time, made a right onto Gen. Booth Boulevard, and headed for the Finish Line.

My heart was pounding, honestly. I tried to prepare myself for the view as I came up to the Rudee Inlet bridge, the first time I would see the Atlantic. I rode onto the bridge, looked to the right, and received my reward. It was beautiful. More than that, it was home.

The familiar hotels, the jetties, the ocean, the bridge itself – it felt so good. I tried to fly down Pacific but the stoplights presented their own hurdles; prolonging the event, making sure I slowed down enough to take it all in. I got to 31st street, made a right, and headed for the Finish Line. As I crossed Atlantic, I started to hear the cheers.

There were roughly 50 people at the Beach to welcome me back; it was amazing. I rode across the boardwalk to the sand, got off, and muscled myself and the bike through 50 yards of loose sand to the Finish Line. I left the bike at the Finish Line, took off my helmet, and ran to the ocean; it was incredible.

I was dumbstruck. I was amazed that so many had come out to cheer me to the end. I came out of the water and found myself in a daze. I walked toward the crowd of friends and family in amazement. Thankfully my dad broke the shock factor with a big hug and welcomed me back, starting a great succession of hugs. It was a great homecoming. People I didn’t even know, just watching on the beach, welcomed me back with congratulations. I was also thankful to the two news crews that came out and covered the event. I had my first little ocean front press conference. It was great.

After an initial round of hugs and handshakes, I walked back to pick up the bike and take her down for her long awaited dip in the Atlantic. It was great. “It was great…” It was...!

I couldn’t have asked for a better reception. Thank you to everybody who came out Saturday to see me back. Thank you!

After the party at the Beach I rode back home with my dad to change, rinse off the bike, and catch my breath before the party that night. I tried to lie down for a minute to recharge, but could do only that – lie there, however even that was nice. I was whipped from that little jaunt through the sand, carrying the beast to the Finish Line. Once getting to the Finish Line, I almost didn’t make it to the water; I had envisioned a victorious dive into the ocean, I was lucky just to get there. It turned into a mixture of a dive and a collapse into the ocean – it felt great nonetheless. So, after a brief rest, we headed to Norfolk for another little celebration of the trip and all that went with it.

It was a great night; everybody had a nice time. We were able to celebrate all that came of the trip and it was great to see all those that came out for it.

It’s just odd that it’s over. I told Chaz, on the sixth day of the trip, while laboring up our third pass of the 114-mile ride to Baker City, about one of my favorite lines from the Bible. It is found in Luke and is often passed over on the way to reading the Christmas passage. Luke 2 begins, “And it came to pass that in those days, there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed.” The birth of Christ ensues; a staple in churches all across the country around Christmas time, an incredible story.

However, one of my favorite lines from that is: “It came to pass.” It’s a great thing to remember. It’s all temporary, nothing’s permanent; it all came to pass. That day when it seemed we would never find the summit, the road kept climbing with every turn – as with so many other obstacles of the trip, I was reminded that it came to pass; it would end.

And beyond the trip, I think it’s an invaluable promise to hold close. Whether you find yourself caught in a moment, the joy of which you wish you could bottle and share with the world, or you stumble into a wall that seems 50 feet tall; it came to pass. Cherish the highs and fight through the lows, they’re all fleeting.

So, as promised, the trip too has passed. But as I said, the journey continues.

I have no idea what lays in store. I am excited by the future and the treasures that are ahead. I am anxious to see how I will arrive at all I have planned, now I feel I simply have to learn the tough lesson of patience. I just have to be patient, be patient, can’t be in such a hurry… It’ll come.

But what a great trip. If you have any desires to do anything of the sort – do it. Make it happen, then email me and tell me about it.

I am pleased to say; roughly $9,000 was raised for the CF Foundation. Of course, it’s never too late to give, if for some reason you weren’t able to contribute, there’s still time. Feel free to also check out the Foundation’s website from time to time and see what they have going on.

I couldn’t have asked for a better tribute to Stephen and the incredible journey he led while battling the monster of CF. His spirit will continue to thrive in the hearts of those who knew him. I was glad to be given the opportunity to share that spirit with those who would have otherwise never known him. He’s quite a friend and I am thankful to have been able to make this trip on his behalf.

Thank you to everyone who had a hand in this trip. I have an incredible network of amazing friends and family who worked very hard to make several key elements of the trip happen; to them I say, Thank You! Your tireless efforts are not lost on me. Thank you.

And another thank you to all those who lived vicariously through the journal and encouraged me along the way; I found that to be another precious lesson, the power of faith and support in a person. There truly were days when I’d feel a little low and call upon the encouraging notes and support to sustain me. It would just make me think of how important optimism, love, and support is for children – people in general.

So many lessons, so many treasures I’ll never forget. Thank you for riding along and enjoying this incredible experience with me.