Enough cycling for a lifetime.

The amount of self-growth isn’t realized in the moment, but surfaces with age.

The summer of 2010, my friend and I began an ambitious trip across the country. An enriching journey I was privileged enough to take. add in why

At the southern most point of Key West, we rushed to start before traffic had a chance to build. A day that would set the bar for the roughest ride of the trip. We set off into the side streets and headed north. Dirk, a close friend and the other crazy guy on this trip lead the way. The goal was Fairbanks, some 6,000 miles away with just shy of three months to finish. We set a good pace and began to lay some miles down. Until we reached the highway, we remained hyperaware of the traffic around us. Where was plenty of time to think, half daydreaming when we hit the long stretches. Plenty of time to absorb the surroundings, the water, the birds and all the items that littered the road. The wind picked up when we approached the Seven Mile bridge, a massive stretch of concrete connecting the islands. With headwinds so unbearable, it felt like we barely moved, taunted by the traffic roaring by. Exhausted and not where we planned to be, both of us were completely over the day we had just experienced. A lovely situation that introduced us to our first stealth camping experience under an undisclosed overpass. That was next to a river. A river that unleashed an unholy amount of mosquitoes.

A routine developed in the days that followed, falling into a rhythm of must-do’s. Staying balanced and light ensured efficiency. So packing the bike developed into an organized system, everything having it’s place. An ideal destination for the night with a backup in mind was our morning discussion, mostly accompanied with some warm coffee. Our target quickly became one hundred miles a day. We looked for campgrounds along the way and sparing some days to rest in roadside motels. As we raced out of the state we were chased by storms daily. Seeking shelter from the lighting and downpours put us in some odd places. Sometimes we just embraced the chance to shower and ride through a light rain, a reprieve from the relentless humidity.

Rounding the Florida panhandle, our first major accomplishment was celebrated as we exited the state toward Mobile Alabama. Long the way we were greeted by disgruntled motorists, inching closer with every honk or slur spewed from the windows. Wide road shoulders were far and few along roads in the southern states. We felt best when a rumble strip separated us from the traffic. This allows vehicles to pass without a thought, but