ride-mas eve.
I arrived late last night, exhausted, but merrily welcomed by Steven and his little dog Smokey at the airport. Instantly, I felt welcomed through the sludge of sleep deprivation. David stayed up late too, to let me into the church house. Their generosity was stark against the angst of New York.
We dragged my bike box into the garage, and David took me through the house before leaving me to fall into bed just as my circadian rhythm pushed me to wake up again.
3 hours later I woke up to a haze of orange on the horizon. Sunrise means it’s acceptable to get up, right?
I showered and brushed my teeth then started on a rough to-do of things to prep, pack, and purchase. Once the sky was bright my bike got built, with pannier racks being reassembled and cables all tested. Next was decanting stuff and finding the right places for everything. Steve swing by, again accompanied by Smokey. We headed to the shops, nipping in and out of stores while we waiting for the bike shop to open. Armed with a box of peanut butter, bread, and US wall sockets we gathered the final supplies from Trek - spare cables, inner tube, and chain.
Back at the house a group therapy session was ongoing. We snuck round the side to avoid disturbing and Steve went home - Smokey still tucked under his arm. The women in the session stepped outside, asking who I was. I explained and their faces lit up, hands hastily extended to shake hands and share names. I joined their little group inside and we chatted about the trip, the state of American politics, the church, and tried to stay optimistic about our futures. We stood in a circle, hands clasped, praying for our small lives in a big world.
Once they left I sat down to lunch. Next was planning my accommodation for the coming days, and returning to the trek store for shoes. Glued to my phone, sat in the sun, swiping between Komoot, Chrome, and the TransAm app, I threw emails out to possible hosts for between camping days. Then I hopped on my bike to Newport News, the land of Trek stores.
The shop staff welcomed me back, picked my bike up, and started working with constant conversation - cleaning the drive chain, pumping tyres, chatting about previous TransAm cyclists I might be able to catch up with on my way. Their curiosity and enthusiasm for the trip was heartwarming, and melted some of my worries away. The longer I stayed, as other customers came and went, I more I saw how kindness is the norm here. Small town vibes despite the wide roads and spacious gardens. It feels like the right place and way to start; safe to fail, so perfect to challenge.
But now I sit; again exhausted, mostly jet lagged, with my kit packed and ready to go, my to-do list completed, and some uncertainty about what the next 60 days will look like. Thunderstorms are expected tomorrow in Richmond. Hopefully I’ll beat them to my camping spot. After that it’s sunshine in Charlottesville. But regardless, hopefully some solid sleep this evening and I’ll wake up tomorrow like a kid at Christmas; bouncing off the walls, and ready to eat heaps of food. If not, at least I know a few kind faces in this town to help me face the rest of the US for Rape Crisis.
