I am now in the part of this summer that I have dreaded, longed for, and wondered about. Three days of riding left. At the end of the week, I will ride my bike into the Atlantic Ocean. And then the tour will be done.
I don't know quite what I'll do at that point. I've told myself I'd cry, but that's up in the air. I've looked forward to that moment, especially on the hard nights when everyone's bike is messed up and I'm tired and there's 90 miles to ride the next morning. There are moments, especially on days like today, when I wonder how it could happen, and hope that my altimeter will begin climbing again until we look over a ridge onto another vast plain.
But on Saturday, I'll ride to the ocean and take pictures of my front tire pushing into the waves.
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