Forty to Finish

July 10, 2019

If every day could be like the ride to Yorktown, I just might do it again. What a day it was! Warm temperature and cloudy skies, to start. At 9:35 a.m., I stopped at the Malvern Hill Battlefield Historical Marker on SR 156. However, I knew if I read one historical marker, I would want to read them all on the last leg to Yorktown. I can always return another time, I told myself. I rode on John Tyler Memorial Highway (Capital Trail) and passed through Charles City to Williamsburg. Just west of the Sherwood Forest Plantation, a cyclist riding away from Yorktown slowed down when he saw me approaching from a distance. “They’re waiting for you at the monument!” he said, knowing full well who I was. He’d met Rolf at the monument in Yorktown before starting his own journey to Florida. I now had my answer. Rolf was waiting to meet me at the finish. I was ecstatic when I looked ahead and saw a body of water and a bridge. “I made it!” I said out loud, unaware I had over 20 miles to go when I rode over the James River at Chickahominy Riverfront Park.

At 12:36 p.m., I reached Williamsburg and the Colonial Parkway, connecting Jamestown, Williamsburg, and Yorktown. I reflected on the journey about to end—riding through areas famous for settling the west, where our forefathers freed us from Britain’s control. The gold rush, Indian Wars—elements of the history that makes up the TransAmerica Bike Trail. My lesson on the saddle came full circle as I closed in on Williamsburg. I navigated the historic downtown and weaved through the College of William & Mary campus, the second-oldest college in the United States, after Harvard University.

John and Jean, the last two trail angels I would meet on this incredible journey, greeted me at the entrance to the scenic Colonial Parkway and rode with me the last 13 miles. Jean asked what memories stood out. “It’s hard to pinpoint one thing… The overall experience was fantastic.” To keep our conversation alive, I shared several stories during our hours-long ride together. I couldn’t wait to relax and process the journey I was about to finish. For I knew seeing the United States on the saddle of a bike is nothing short of incredible.

John described the final two-mile path to the monument, and then he and Jean slowed down while I continued my pace. John told me, “This is your finish. You should be alone when you reach the monument.”

I took a right onto Comte De Grasse Street and began pedaling up a short, steep hill—the last hill. When I turned left onto Main Street, the towering Yorktown Victory Monument came alive. So many times, I thought how I couldn’t wait to experience the incredible rush I had imagined as I gazed up at the enormous monument.

I scanned the area, looking for Kelley. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her (carrying our dog, Bradley) and running toward me from a distant parking lot. My son, Brian, and my niece Erin reached me at the moment Kelley doused me with champagne. We all hugged.

“What do you think about Dad racing across the country?” I asked Brian, watching him stare at my unshaven face.

“Pretty cool,” he responded.

I heard a voice through all the commotion saying, “Ride to the monument to finish!”

I turned and saw a man filming my arrival. I hopped on Tank and rode the last 50 feet on a path leading to the monument’s base, the official end to the Trans Am Bike Race.

I saw Rolf standing along the path. He looked the same, minus a few pounds, as I remembered when we first met in Astoria 39 days before. I took a victory lap, riding full circle around the base. When I reached the front, I stopped, hopped off Tank for the very last time, and slapped the concrete exclamation point! At 3:10 p.m., my race was finished.

My right hand stung for a second from the slap to the concrete. I was caught in the surreal sense that the past few weeks hadn’t happened. A few people stood around the grass area, circling the bottom of the monument. I set Tank down on the ground. I looked back to the path I had ridden to reach the monument, scanning the handful of people who joined in on the celebration. Kelley, Brian, Erin, Rolf, John, Jean, and a photographer all beamed, congratulating me for a job well done. Mission accomplished, I thought. The sun was beating down pleasantly, and I was surrounded by smiling faces.

I reached out to embrace Rolf, thanking him for greeting my arrival. He told me he remembered meeting me in Astoria.

“I tried to catch you the past two weeks,” I shared, with a beaming smile.

He added, “You motivated me to keep going. I thought you might catch me.”

“You pulled me along!” I said, wanting to get the last word in.

He finally fulfilled the dream he had set out to achieve the year before, when he was derailed due to developing pneumonia halfway to Yorktown. Determination. Perseverance.

For a minute, I had forgotten about my wife, son, and niece, who had been standing, chatting, and taking videos. I turned and pointed to each, introducing them one by one. Then I directed my comments to the small gathering. “Thanks for being here everyone!” No music. No bells. No whistles. And yet, it was absolutely perfect. I turned, faced the monument, lifted Tank above my head, and let the moment sink in.

Kelley, Erin, Brian, and I walked away from the monument to the parking lot, where Kelley had parked our QX60 Infiniti. I opened the rear hatch and put all the equipment I carried on Tank inside the SUV. I attached my Yakima bike rack to the rear hitch and secured Tank to it, ready to drive home to New Jersey. I looked up at the white monument one last time. I called my daughters, Tara and Jaclyn, my parents, and my four brothers. I could hear in Mom’s voice that she was relieved her son was finally finished, safe and sound. I stared out the passenger window, thinking about all the well-wishes and words of encouragement I had received the past 38 days, 7 hours, and 10 minutes. Every shout-out transmitted a boost of energy though my mind and body—a lifeline to Yorktown.

Two 57-year young riders completed their TABR journeys. Rolf arrived at The Monument Wednesday afternoon (37:07:42). He had ridden the TA as a cycling tourist in 2012 and completed it in 82 days. He more than halved his time this time around! Like a good wine, Rolf just gets better with age!! Awesome ride!

Congrats!

And Larry Walsh finished his TABR experience almost exactly a day later yesterday afternoon (38:07:10). Issues with LW’s tracker, at least in VA, made it a challenge to find him, but his family located him at The Monument to congratulate him on a ride well done! Congratulations LW! Chapeau!