Montsy

Flarida

UBI Neighborhood

Mt McLoughlin

Prospect4

Today started where yesterday left off: grimy as ever on the floor of the post office in Mineral, VA. 
TransAm riders will know the following. In post offices, the lights stay on through the night and there’s plenty of dust on the floor. The first ppl to enter are usually civilians picking up mail around 5am or a little before. They don’t seem to mind the presence of someone sleeping in a corner, with their bike leaning against the mailboxes and their clothes drying out on the table. 
Around 6:00 the first employee arrives. Sometimes they do in fact mind. But not this morning. Not, at least, until the postmaster general arrived around 7. 
“There’s someone sleeping in the lobby.”
“Are you serious?” 
Straightforwardly, he told me off. Within a sentence, I explained my positionality and said I’d be gone within 20 minutes.
I was riding away within 15.
The first 44mi were a slog and I finished my sleeve of 10 Oreos. My back still hurt as did my saddle sores. It was already warm and humid. Things turned around, however, in Ashland. A quick consultation with Google Maps yielded a proper bfast spot at a nice inn, where I gleefully consumed 3 Arnold Palmers with crushed ice, 3 housemade, warmed pastries (cinnamon bun covered in icing, a blueberry muffin and, my favorite, a strawberry Danish) and a SEC on housemade croissant with a runny yolk. Their bathroom was quite nice, so I made good use of it. Upon exiting the inn to rejoin with my trusted steed, I found three dot-watchers who kindly greeted me. We introduced ourselves, pleasantly chatted and I departed after some selfies. (Thanks for the cookies and Gatorade, Deborah!) I then rode around the stroads of Richmond in the heat of midday (mid-90s) and things started to feel quite good. In fact, I was able to sail through the final 60ish miles, stopping once for a homemade limeade, ice cream, a can of Pepsi, and once more to use a public restroom. The discomfort of my back and saddle sores subsided into nothingness.
In late afternoon, I rode through the campus of William & Mary followed by a main-street that appeared almost comically out of the 17th century. It reminded me of Colonial Williamsb—wait it IS Colonial Williamsburg. I knew I was going through a Williamsburg as the final town before THE final town, but somehow didn’t make the connection until I was right there. A funny moment; hadn’t been since I was 5ish. 

This is an unusually long recap, because, well, I finally have time to just BEGIN to tell of the richness that happens with each day out here. There are moments that are extraordinary and others that are personally testing, but all of it contributes to a kind of raw richness that I feel particularly well endowed to get to experience in such huge quantities. Perhaps foremost, this is why I take part in rides of this magnitude.

This ride is over. I was able to complete this route and accomplish my goal of sub-20 days by a handy margin. It was enough to win. I didn’t expect I would, but it’s a great bonus. More importantly than all that was doing what I said I would: indeed, the highs were blissfully reveled in, and, with the exception of the occasional shouted F-bomb, I’d say the lows were calmly endured. That’s kind of what the TransAm is. Holding it together enough.

The very ending at the famed monument here in Yorktown was extremely sunny and for the first time in my life, I got to pop open not one but two bottles of champagne and take a swig. I don’t really drink, but it was a great moment. I enjoyed talking to the TransAm community of Yorktown. Perhaps with the exception of Sloan Kettering, I’ve never been treated so well by so many I didn’t know.

I’m relieved it’s over, but physically, I feel quite good. I attribute this not to me, but to the nature of riding a bike. It’s a smooth thing. While I would do smaller days, I feel I could ride back to Brooklyn. Mentally, I can stop having to make so many decisions, constantly planning my next maneuver. Emotionally, it’s like I’ve eaten one of the biggest meals of my life and now I can sit back and enjoy digesting.

I’m not gonna lie, the last few days I was really thinking of pushing for sub-19. It’s not lost on me that this is the slowest winning time in the 10th rendition of this race. I do think of ways I could have saved time, optimized my setup, prepared more. But this ride contained difficult moments; the last few days were hard ones—some of my hardest days of biking ever. (The only way out really is through!) Having now completed this relatively quickly, I have an idea of how it could be done quicker—and I shudder.

On Tuesday morning, heading out of Berea, KY into the Cumberland Plateau, I zoomed past a man who had set up a large camera to, presumably, record my few seconds of riding by. He cheered me on by my name and shouted “you’re my hero”. After a moment, I started weeping. In the next few hours, I recorded 10 top-10 segments—which included some sizeable climbs—that had been ridden by nearly 400 using this app. A bottle of strawberry-lime Snapple can go a long way, but I’ve never so immediately been picked up by those who cheered along the route, such as by this trio as I approached Silverthorne, CO. (I INSTANTLY felt better.) During the hardest moments, often it is my thoughts of people who power me through.

A big ride deserves a big Strava-caption, but I’ll end it here: once again, a huge thanks to all those who supported me—to those I know well and those who found out about me as a race leader. To Nathan Jones and the other organizers, I so appreciated this opportunity. To all my fellow TABNS24 riders: congratulations on how far you went/have come. For the many still out there, keep at it. Y’all are gutsy folk. Special shoutouts to Joe Bagel for helping me have such a positive experience in Astoria and Pierre Cautain—chapeau. Major chapeau.

Gonna chill now. Peace out.

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Artie Carpenter

Trans Am: 19d8h50m

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Montsy

Flarida

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Mt McLoughlin

Prospect4

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