Forty to Finish

I had made it to Bumpass, Virginia, the scene of the extraordinary moment during the TABR 2016 when Steffen Streich awoke at 3:00 a.m., leading Lael Wilcox by 110 miles, and started riding the wrong way. Their dots collided, at which point Streich realized his error, turned around, and continued pedaling to Yorktown. Reportedly, they rode together for a while before Wilcox pulled ahead, beating Steich by two hours to become the first woman to win the TABR.

When I first read about the thrilling outcome of June 22, 2016, my desire to enter the race went through the roof. The story of Wilcox winning in such an unbelievable way was one of the defining moments leading to my decision to enter the race. Seeing Bumpass on this quiet and sunny July 9 afternoon was not the image I’d had of Wilcox and Steich’s improbable meeting, riding past the clear blue water of Lake Anna on my way to Ashland.

Prince Purple, a prolific dot watcher from Ashland (population 7,225), had been a frequent supplier of daily updates and made a point to meet racers on the road as they pedaled through his hometown in Virginia. He greeted cyclists and made cameos on North Centre Street, near the site of Randolph Macon University. An Amtrak train shook the ground, barreling through Ashland at 7:05 p.m. The town went silent again. Then, as I rode over Interstate 95, it hit me that I had missed Prince Purple and was getting close to Yorktown. Seeing vehicles traveling at high speed and then remembering a similar image from weeks before, traveling in a bus on Highway 101 to Astoria, acted as bookends to an unforgettable journey with countless memories in between.

I reached Mechanicsville (population 36,348) at 8:30 p.m. I didn’t know which way to go when I stopped at a confluence of roads near Interstate 295, surrounded by a large construction area and a newly opened road system. I looked at the Adventure Cycling Map, then at my surroundings, and then at my GPS. My GPS directed me to go in a direction that was no longer possible. The digital files had not been updated to reflect the new roads. I asked a woman walking her dog if she knew the most direct route to the Holiday Inn. She hesitated in her response, not sure where to direct me. After a few minutes, I took a chance and rode on one of the newly constructed roads in the direction I assumed would lead to the Holiday Inn. As dusk set in, I reached the on-ramp for Interstate 295, heading north. I wanted to go east. At the Bell Creek Road exit, I peeled off and followed the road for a couple of miles, winding through side roads until I made it to the Holiday Inn Express parking lot at 9:00 p.m.

I felt a sense of relief. One more night! I thought, as I waited for the sliding glass door to open and walked inside a motel for the very last time on this journey. The front desk attendants were expecting me. I looked every bit tired, hungry, and in need of a shave. My haggard appearance didn’t faze the two women, Liz and DJ, working at the front desk—I’m sure it was business as usual for this motel that was frequented by cyclists riding through Mechanicsville. I purchased food from the lobby store and walked Tank to my first-floor room. I followed my routine one more time—one last time, I reminded myself. I would unpack, shower, prepare for the next day’s ride, eat, post a summary of my day on the saddle, and sleep.

Lying on the bed, I examined details of the map that would direct me to Yorktown the next day. The room phone rang at 10:00 p.m. “Hello?” I answered, with a tinge of interest as to why someone was calling me so late at night.

One of the front desk attendants responded, “Prince Purple is in the lobby and delivered food for you.” Prince Purple had tracked my location to the Holiday Inn. Since we missed seeing each other in Ashland, he wanted to track me down. When my satellite dot didn’t move from this location for 30 minutes, he drove here to greet me. I appreciated Prince Purple making the effort, but I also had mentally settled in for the night.

“I will be down to pick up the food, but it won’t be for a little while,” I replied, adding, “Please say thank you for me.”

When reflecting on and writing about my time in Mechanicsville, I realized I should have greeted Prince Purple and thanked him in person. Later that night, I retrieved the food and then posted a thank-you note to Prince Purple on social media. He replied, “Mystery man, you are the only racer I ever missed riding through Ashland.” A dog lover and rescuer, he goes by his dog’s name, Prince Purple.

OK. I tried Larry Walsh. I really did try. Before we went out for the evening, your Dot had been in Mineral VA for over three hours, so I figured you were done. But noooooooo! After dinner I suddenly noticed you were cycling again, and you were somehow already past Ashland. Bravo!!! Rushed home, loaded up and headed out to meet you. But it didn’t make sense as your Dot was stuck in Atlee Station almost an hour. But I was happy you were NOT in the middle of the road as your Dot showed!! Being a Jersey boy, I figured I’d find you in Dunkin Donuts! Nope! But after going to ALL the food joints in Atlee Station, I knew you had already left. I headed up the road and suddenly your Dot popped up in Mechanicsville. Now I know it’s starting to sound a little (or A LOT!!!) creepy, but I tracked you to the Holiday Inn Express. Great choice!!! Right next to the IHOP!! Liz and DJ were very kind and accepted the food I had for you and even posed for a picture… photographic proof that PP was there. Sweet dreams dude!!—Prince Purple, July 9

Earlier in the day, Rolf finished the race. I had closed the gap to 100 miles, but that was as close as I got to catching him. I wondered if Rolf would meet me at the monument the next day when I finished. Forty-four racers had finished. Twenty-four had scratched. Thomas, the 78-year-old Lanterne Rouge, had 2,700 miles to go. Adam had 300 miles, and I had 82 miles to the end.

Two thoughts entered my mind when I placed my head on the pillow: finish and family.