To Me... and You

Day 76

Williamsburg, VA to Yorktown, VA

Distance: 14 miles

Road surface: Champs Elysées (fitting)

I was remarkably efficient packing up my panniers, eating breakfast and doing my stretches this morning. Anyone would think I had gone through this routine before…

But I did have a small tear in my eye as I checked out, realising this was indeed my last day of the trip. I would pedal my last stroke just a couple of hours later.

It was a strange feeling setting off onto the Colonial Parkway, which runs all the way from Williamsburg to Yorktown. I was expecting something quite grand, given the name, and there was a certain "je ne sais quoi" about it.

It was wide and boulevard-like, framed by elegant trees, though still natural looking… not “planted” and certainly not pollarded (i.e. cropped or chopped to shape). But it was the road surface that was the talking point.

I had heard in dispatches the night before that the road was “cobbled” for want of a better term, but I didn’t quite believe it. I didn’t think the Americans did cobbles, and so I wasn’t really fully prepared.

It was really like a bit of a TransAm joke to make the last few miles (or first few I guess if you were going the other way) on bone-shaking terrain. And I was lucky. I had a beautifully cool, sunny day. And, rather like a rider in the final day in the Tour de France in Paris, tackling the cobbles of the Champs Elysées, I would not want to tackle it in the wet.

And “lucky” and “grateful” really are my words du jour. I have developed the ability for most of this trip to see the humour in moments that might in the past have made me anxious, angry, upset or scared. If I can take one thing from my experiences over the past few years, it will be that I can survive anything.

Without wanting to tempt fate, I can’t believe that I will ever, in my life, allow myself to live without hope in the way that I did for so long, Failing to see the positive and seeing only the negative. And for me, this is the pivotal issue. The thing that changes lives.

Cycling along with the sunshine dappling through the trees, and then catching sight of the cool, blue, Atlantic Ocean will rank up there with one of the best moments of my life.

“I did it,” I kept thinking.

I have done this. I have done this all on my own. This is amazing. This makes me feel alive. I am sad this is going to be over. But I am happy too. So happy.

Me, little me, silly me, human me, flawed me, sometimes awful me, sometimes wonderful me. But always “me”. I am in the world for a reason. And I will stay in the world and be happy, and do my bit for as long as I can.

I knew that when I reached the finish point, like for the rest of the trip, there would be no-one there with whom to share it.  And that has been a telling aspect of this whole trip for me.

I wanted to achieve this goal on my own. I had something to prove. To myself. But I also yearned to share. To connect. To love, and be loved. To compare and share experiences, to hear others’ perspectives, and share their adventure.

As I said before, no man, woman, or touring cyclist is an island, and I appreciate that more now than I ever did before.

And when I cycled past the white sand of Yorktown Beach, sitting bright against the deep blue, and turned the corner to reach the Victory Monument, something inside me knew that I was going to find the monument deserted. That I would truly end this trip alone. And I was right.

It was a good ten minutes before anyone arrived.

And while I was anxious to get some photos, that something in me was also glad. I had no witness to me cheering to myself, to me literally hugging Steed and telling him how much I loved him. That, although he is metal and carbon fibre, in my mind, in my soul, he is a loyal and unique companion, who has been there for me through thick and thin.

And once I had completed my own personal celebration, I was ready to FaceTime my wonderful, amazing sister and my cute, cheeky, bubbly little nephew, and share the moment with them. And what a joyous moment it was.

Then a lady called Billie arrived and parked her car up. Before she could opt whether to walk towards the monument or somewhere else, I had legged it up to her, cycling shoes click-clacking on the path, with my iPhone in hand…

Yes, there is another tale for today. When I took my camera out of my handlebar bag to catch the moment, there was more bad news. Making a sad little noise and flashing up a message “battery exhausted” I couldn’t help but wonder whether it was simply learning from the mistress. But again it made me laugh. Obviously I had messed up what I thought was my overnight charging of the camera and it was now dead, on my last day, at one of the, if not the, seminal point of the trip.

But Billie managed to operate the iPhone (thank heavens for the iPhone) and I ended my little monument session with some decent shots, and some prompters to help me remember my emotions at that moment.

Rolling away from the finish and conscious that I had to cycle to the nearby airport to pick up a rental car to get to Washington DC and see my friend Juila, I had mentally decided that I wouldn’t bother circling town to try to find the Visitor Centre and sign my name in the TransAm register. But as I made my way towards the highway, I found myself cycling directly past it.

I stopped in and signed my name, and chatted with the guy behind the counter, who gave me a little pin/badge to commemorate my trip.

I am, and will always be, proud of my achievement. I can now wear it like a badge (literally).

I have learnt so much, experienced things I never expected, seen the most breathtaking sights, and met some of the kindest, most genuine people I have ever met in my life.

And I have received beautiful, life-affirming, loving support from friends and family.

I’m not going to name all names now, or give you all the stats, but let's just say 4,300 miles, and here are a few of the things that people gave me to keep me safe through the trip.

Now if I could just raise a bit more money for these charities I want to support, and spread the education and support for those affected by domestic abuse, I’ll be an even happier girl.

I know… but I have to keep trying.

That’s what life is all about.

Me x