Day 33 – July 19th

Months of planning, years of dreaming, and over a month of biking would come to fruition today. Today is the final day in my quest for Atlantic waters. What should I be feeling at this moment as I prepare to disembark on my climactic ride? Excitement? Nervousness? A little sad perhaps? Its all of these, yet none. The overwhelming feeling is surrealism; this doesn’t feel quite real to me. Hopefully in just over 60 miles it will strike me the same instance the Atlantic does. But like so many other days, I need to pedal to find out. And so, a little after 8:30 am, I set out one final time to do just that.

Rolling downhill toward the ocean, I am still captivated by the spirit of this ride. It’s a continuous sense of youthful enthusiasms. Everyday feels like old hat, yet at the same time its a totally new experience. I can’t really explain it; I guess it’s like so many other beautiful things in this world. You have to see/feel it to believe it.

The first half of the ride disappeared in a twinkle of pedaling, and aside from a detour to our trusty sidekick Starbucks for some java and a few tubes (Friedman, up to his old tricks, blew through three more tubes and a tire while visiting the green been.) Making our way through Nashua, we soon found ourselves displaced. After a quick rendezvous with a local, we found our route, added a few extra miles just for kicks, and were back on track. Back on track was not to last; as it turns out Friedman and I are equally inept at translating those mysterious lines and symbols on a map. Luckily, our navigator was kind enough to bike to us and redirect our misguided wheels back towards the Atlantic. 20 miles remaining, Larry led the way as Gary and I attempted to come to grips with our last day on the bike. In the end, I just couldn’t do it. Perhaps the tomorrow morning will bring that realization to my weary body.

Winding our way through Newburyport, Larry relinquished the lead and Gary and I made our way onto Plum Island with our trusty Tour director. And, at long last, the sight we had been seeking so desperately for nearly five weeks was finally upon us. The Atlantic ocean was cemented into my gaze, and within reach. Within reach; that’s a hard fact to fathom. After so many miles, states, challenges, and fatigued muscles, that enormous body of water was within my reach. Pedaling my way to it I felt emotionally numb. I guess I always felt I would make it, but a small side of me never fully accepted it. And yet, 3,500 miles later, here I am pedaling my ever faithful Trek along the sand spattered streets of Plum Island and toward that glorious, faithfully beckoning siren.

Splashing my sheet white feet in the turbid, bitterly cold waters a smile slowly spread across my face. I was standing in the salty waters of the Atlantic, its dark blue waters spread out in front of me for as far as I could see, and still I could not accept it as reality. The ride had been difficult, sometimes it felt like insanity to climb aboard yet again and stroke a few more miles out of it, and yet looking back it didn’t seem that difficult. Hindsight does have a way of ironing out the difficulties encountered, and leaving behind only the enjoyment that those moments held. Maybe that’s what I am experiencing, and maybe not. I still do not know how far I can push my body, and more importantly, my spirit. Yet, standing in these waters, with one of my best friends by my side and holding our road beaten bikes on these sandy shores, I have a better idea of the truth of the matter. The honest answer is that it is not all that important about discovering exactly how far I can push myself. Only the moments held in attempting to discover that personal question are truly worth contemplating. As the old saying goes, it is not about reaching the summit, but about the journey to get there. My journey has taught me the truth of that statement, and at the same time, the flaw in it.

Gazing into the distant horizon, my gaze slips downward and I am entranced as the water washes sand away from my sun deprived feet. Perhaps it’s symbolic of all the hardships and tests of will that this sojourn has put forth; now they are quietly removed and I am left with only my triumph and accomplishment. With that thought, I realize this bike ride was both about the daily journey AND about reaching this particular summit; for it is the summit that makes the journey worth taking. Lots of emotions cascade through me, but their clarity remains dim so for today, I will just enjoy my sea level summit. For today, I believe I have earned it...