denial...

This is nonsense. I am not suddenly on the other side of the country, am I? No, I refuse to believe it.

Don't tell me that I just rode 3,900 miles. Don't tell me that, in the past five days, we climbed over 15,000 feet to cross six mountain passes. Don't tell me that I braved extreme heat and extreme cold; extreme rain and extreme wind, thunder, and lightning; extreme traffic and extreme wildlife. Don't tell me about all that has crossed my eyes, from the flattest flatlands to the highest mountaintops. Don't tell me about the time I nearly died in a thunderstorm (more than once), or the time I never felt more alive crossing the Rockies.

As far as I'm concerned, this did not happen.

You see, I have been living day-to-day for the past two-and-a-half months. I've put all the good and the bad behind me to focus on the stretch of road yet to come, every goal very precisely laid out, so as not to get too far ahead of, or too far behind, myself. And for me, the only way to make it to Vancouver by Monday is to first make it through mile one on our ride to Richmond tomorrow.

It is a coping mechanism of sorts, structuring my entire mode of being around a very specific goal, a goal that culminates in a much grander accomplishment. And for me, that micro-structure blinds me from the hyper-ambition of a "bigger picture", keeping me grounded, keeping me modest, and keeping me sane. For the past two-and-a-half months, I know the rest of my life exists somewhere in time, but it does not matter for the present moment in my life. I have all the tools and skills and knowledge and strength and motivation to make it from mile one to mile two. At least that is the hope.

Greg LeMond once said, "It never gets easier, you just go faster." Of course I'm not about to ride in the Tour de France (despite all the mention from passers-by that France is in the opposite direction...thanks for the redundant geography lesson), much less win it, but I do know that every day presents an almost overwhelming challenge. To think solely of the challenge of biking from Portsmouth, NH to Vancouver, BC would be to think like a defeatist. Because, somewhere in the middle, you do get stronger, you do go faster, and you are able to realize your ability to cover more, and more, and more ground. Then suddenly, you're rich...rich in ability, and rich in experience.

But for now, I'd like to remain meek.

We have about 55 miles into Richmond tomorrow. From Lynden, Richmond is only about an hour by car (plus customs), but it will take us probably as much as six. The ride is pretty flat, with views of the Coast Mountains to the north (the subrange just north of Vancouver, for which the postcards display well, is called the North Shore Mountains) and Cascades to the east. It will start relatively rural, but become urban (and densely so) very quickly. Our trip leader Joy and Bike and Build Director Brendan Newman drove the route today, and said it was tough even in the van. Which scares me. We will have lots of turns, we will have lots of traffic (including a six lane highway over a bridge, which is the only way into Richmond from the south.

But I hope our view of the mountains will keep us sane. From Lynden, Mt. Baker is amazingly clear, and will be all the way to Vancouver. I'm sure it's not as spectacular as Mt. Rainier, but still is pretty great to look at, especially knowing that it is, at long last, to our east. Hopefully, for the next 80 miles, I won't look back too much. After all, there is so much to anticipate, and so much we're still unable to account for.

We haven't accomplished anything, yet.