Cycling Ellen

Roughly 1800 miles by car and plane

3 a.m. is not my best time of day.  Barely 40 degrees and raining is not my best kind of weather.   Still, I was happy to be home in the early morning hours of May 3 after the last set of adventures on this bicycling journey.

Our celebratory banquet was a little surreal for me.  There were women wearing makeup and some clothing I hadn’t seen before.  We ate at tables with real chairs and though the food was good, not as good as Linda’s fine cooking.  The ambient room noise was really loud as people raised their voices to be heard and pictures were taken around the room.  You could tell when the food started to arrive by the direct correlation of decibel levels sinking.

Michelle and Linda had tabulated a few statistics about the amount of food and drink we had consumed over 8 weeks.  I’ll keep the numbers of bottles of beer, wine and tequila a close-held secret but we also used up about 48 jumbo size jars of peanut butter and 750 pounds of bananas.  I wonder how many of us learned the snap a banana in half using your bare hands trick.  I didn’t say we ate all of those bananas!

As the plates were taken away, and the coffee cups emptied, the hugs began.  I noticed a couple of women sneak out the side door to avoid the good byes as others circulated the room, tissues in hand (or not), wishing everyone well, making promises to get together or stay in touch or put off the good byes until the shuttle to the airport in the morning.  Many of us found our way back to the parking lot of the hotel where the family members were putting our beloved plastic chairs back into the trailer.

In the morning, it was comforting to see some of the familiar faces gathered in the lobby of the hotel.  A few of us headed down the waterfront for a good breakfast before the day really began.  Tom and I played tourist for a little bit visiting the fort briefly and a spin around the outside of the old jail that I had toured as a child.  We walked through the old town and reluctantly, headed back to pack up, meet up with Debbie and drive up to Jacksonville for our flights home.

On the way, we needed to fill up the rental car with gas and I indulged my nostalgia one more time at a roadside fruit and souvenir store.  Debbie and I tasted some of the free tangerine samples; picked up some gifts to take north and in conversation with the staff were given a free box of coconut patties in celebration of our completing our cross-country ride.  One of the things I will take away from this journey is a sense of gratitude that most of the people that we met over the 8 weeks on the Southern Tier were so kind.

At the airport, Debbie and I changed back into our cool weather clothes and I said my last goodbye.  Well, I thought I was saying my last good bye at the time.  After Tom and I turned away from the airline counter, the ticket agent chased us down the hall to tell us that we would not make our connection in St. Louis, as the weather was bad there and delaying flights.  She re-routed us to Miami on a flight that wasn’t leaving until 2 hours later than our first one.  She went out of her way to catch us and spare us a frustrating day of missed connections and late flights.  Another good person…

At the bookstore in the terminal, there we found Debbie, so we sat down for a leisurely meal together.  Eventually, we said goodbye again and headed through security out to the gate.  It was packed with people waiting for flights that had been delayed including our original flight to St. Louis, now over 2 hours late.  As I walked through the crowded gate area, I heard a little pssss sound.  Turning around, I was delighted to see Candice and Carmen waiting for their plane as well!  We had time for some more conversation, a couple of final photographs and off they went through Dallas.

I enjoyed the flight to Miami in our little prop plane buzzing along south down the coast.  We made a big arc over the Everglades as we landed in Miami.  There we found another crowded airport filled with people frustrated by airline delays because of the tornados in the mid-section of the country.  We were fortunate that our flight was only an hour or so late.  We snoozed as best we could on the way home, anticipating the hour and a half drive back to Vermont.  I had my eyes closed as we entered the state but they were wide open when we stepped into our house.  Uncharacteristically, I headed for the thermostats instead of the woodstove to warm it up.  I was freezing!  In the morning, we got the stove going again.  Isn’t it May already?  At least the snow has melted.

Now, the task at hand is to weave myself back into my life at home.  I’m taking it really gradually and seeing it all with fresh eyes.  Driving my car to my mother’s house, I felt like I was 15 again just coming out the cemetery (where I learned to drive) onto the real roads.  I found myself looking at hills that I have seen all my life and thinking how they would feel on a bicycle now.  I was shocked at how quickly I got from one end of town to another and how isolated I felt inside the confines of a car.  This is all going to be an adjustment but I’m happy for the perspective that being away for 8 weeks is allowing me.

At the risk of sounding like an Academy award winner, before I finish, I need to thank all of you for whatever part you played in my journey.  It’s not a cliché to thank my mother first for helping with so much of the funding for the trip as otherwise, it would not have happened.  Thanks to all of my friends and family and coworkers who covered for me so I could be away for so long.  Thanks to the many contributors to the BMC and the NBCC.  Thanks to those of you who shared your stories of women living or dying from breast cancer.  They were always a part of my ride.  I’ll keep the fundraising going until the end of the year in hopes of getting closer to my goal.  Thanks to all of you, my faithful readers for your comments and encouragement.  Finally, thanks to all of the women who shared my journey.  Spending 8 weeks with such an inspiring and fun bunch of women was such a privilege and a real joy.

My final bit of advice, if there is a challenge that you have been avoiding because you don’t think you can do it, give it a try.  You might be surprised at what you can do if you just take it one step at a time.  I rode my bike across the country!

49 miles today
3068.3 final total

My husband and Debbie are on their way to UPS to ship back our boxes filled with our precious cargo, the bikes that got us all the way from San Diego to St. Augustine.  I’m grabbing a free moment to let all of you know that we all made it here and without any flats to the beach today.  The ride to the fire station outside of town was typical of so many of our rides – farmland, fields, houses and side roads.  We passed a tractor harvesting potatoes (so cool the way the potatoes fall into the gathering truck while the dirt falls out the other side back into the field), more cows, sheep and horses and a couple of lakes.  Phyllis did her last sag duty at mile 20.  So many women had left really early to make sure they made it to the station in time for our 10:30 gathering, that I was one of the last there.  The mood was celebratory with an edge of fear that something might happen to prevent us from doing our last triumphant ride.  I saw a few people checking their tires, including me, to make sure there weren’t any problems in store.  After my flat yesterday, I gave it some extra air just to make sure I’d get in ok.  No one wanted to ride to the beach in the sag car at the back with Michelle.

At the fire station, we gathered for pictures and eventually arranged ourselves in roughly age order with Barbara, in her recumbent and Jeannie, in her trike, leading the pack.  Two by two we lined up as the police cars made their motorcade.  I had serious goose bumps looking ahead to the role models of successful aging in front of me and the exuberant youngsters behind.  We headed out for the last five miles of our journey with sirens going and whoops and hollers from the cyclists.   People on the side of the road waved back with enthusiasm, probably confused as to what this line of women on bicycles was all about.  No matter.  It was a parade and everyone loves a parade.

As we pulled into the state park, we spied the welcoming committee of friends and family gathered there.  Confusion reigned as we found our loved ones and tried to make sense of our accomplishments.  We were really there!  We carried our bikes down to the ocean, dipped the front tires into the Atlantic and gave celebratory hugs and shouts.  After the last group picture with our bikes, a few of us left them on the sand and headed out into the ocean.  The Atlantic never felt so warm.  A V of pelicans cruised overhead and I had to stop and catch my breath to appreciate the moment I was living.  It still hasn’t sunk in that all those riding days added up to this.  We have ridden from Ocean number 1 to Ocean number 2 on our bicycles, over mountains, across deserts, past dogs, along swamps and along the Gulf Coast.

Introductions were made all around.  Our friends probably felt as we did back in San Diego trying to keep all the names and faces straight and probably just as unsuccessfully as we did then.  Now, though, those familiar faces carry stories that have become part of us and our history making together.  Tonight, we’ll share our final moments together at a banquet just for us (as significant others gather in the motel parking lot with our tables and white plastic chairs for a celebration of their own).  Judy got me teary at breakfast this morning which reminds me to bring the box of special lotion tissues I bought when I was sick back in Texas tonight.  I have a feeling we’re going to need them.

I’ll write one more time after I get home late tomorrow night.  In the meantime, raise your glass and enjoy a sip of our celebration.  We’re all here safe and sound and feeling so grateful.