Victory Lap

Hello,

This is Joanna. Our trip has really changed in the past few weeks. Right now, we are at the Case's house in Houghton NY. They are friends/professors/almost family that we have all known in different ways over the years. They have all encouraged us over the course of planning this trip, and it has been wonderful to share our stories from the trip and roll into their driveway victoriously.

So how has the trip changed? Now that I have finished the seventh week I can picture the trip in its entirety. I remember the smell of the Pacific, people gawking at us as we cycled by in all of our new shiny gear. I remember the smell of onions and potatoes in Idaho, the distant snow covered mountains and the endless switchbacks. The plains were endless, with brutal headwinds - but when we had a tailwind it was heaven (especially that 120 mile day in Indiana!). I look back on the "western hospitality" the "Midwestern hospitality" and the ongoing "eastern hospitality." Ultimately, it looks like hospitality exists wherever there are people. I have seen the scenery slowly change, from coastal forests to jagged mountains, from high desert to the Badlands, and from the plains to the bumpy green mountains of Pennsylvania and western New York.

This last leg of the journey is going to be a series of homecomings. I have been terming it the "victory lap" of the trip. We are re-connecting with friends, families, and communities that have raised, nurtured, and encouraged us. Thursday we rolled through Chaz's hometown, and were welcomed by his cheering extended family as we biked up his grandfather's driveway at the family dairy farm. It was a lovely picnic in a series of welcoming feasts this weekend. Friday we biked through areas that Chaz, Judith, and I have all gone running in as a part of Houghton's cross country and track team. We were in familiar territory.

Yesterday I gently coasted down the extended hill on 243 in Caneadea, listening to my victory songs off of Kenny Chesney's "Cosmic Hallelujah" album (great cycling music!), and it was a wonderful familiar feeling; pedaling hard down Route 19, seeing the Houghton sign. It was one of our finish lines. We are spending the weekend catching up with Houghton friends, staying at their houses, seeing people at church, and even on the side of the road (we got pulled over by some friends for a quick catch-up and congratulations). This afternoon Houghton threw a celebratory picnic, and we got to see many community members who have been supporting us from afar and cheering us on. I am feeling the fruit of the last few weeks, I am out of the wilderness and close to home, being cheered on with my friends as we make this final push to the coast. The week ahead will be a series of homecomings, culminating in the "other ocean."

At the beginning of the trip we kept asking each other, "does it feel real yet?" It certainly started to feel normal after a week or two - but now that we're nearing the Atlantic we are asking ourselves again, "does it feel real yet?" It has been a momentous undertaking, and my mantra has been "one day at a time." That is how this trip has been manageable. I just think about the day ahead and only worry about that, and thus it feels kind of like a pleasant surprise that we've made it this far.

Personally, I have really learned that journeys like this take an entire community. There are many people, stretching from Portland to Philadelphia who have helped us along the way. I've made a few new friends, and experienced very gracious hospitality. I have a very fleshed-out picture of our continent, and all of the special small towns and cities across the country that we've rolled through.

One more week, it is hard to believe, yet I am very ready to go back to "normal life," mostly I picture myself drinking coffee at my kitchen table and reading a very long book at my leisure.