Days 66-69: The Finish Line Is Not the Finish

Days 66-69: The Final Approach Part 1

There comes a point on every long journey when you realize the finish line is no longer something off in the distance. When I woke on Father's Day in Washington, D.C., I found myself thinking less about the miles that remained than about everything that had happened over the previous two months. In just a few days this adventure would come to an end. Before reaching Rehoboth Beach, though, there were still a few more stories to write.

Father's Day on the Road

This was certainly not a typical Father's Day. We gathered for brunch at the Tempo Hotel before I climbed back on the bike. Around the table were Karen, my daughter Amanda, my son Josh, my niece Abby and her husband Kenny, along with Scott and Sally. Life has a way of pulling families in different directions. Careers, children, obligations and geography all compete for our time. The fact that they had traveled across the country to spend Father's Day with me, just days before the ride would end, was something I didn't take for granted. Looking around the table, I realized how fortunate I was.

Eventually breakfast gave way to another day on the bike. Leaving Washington was unlike any ride of the previous two months. Within a few miles I pedaled past the Capitol, several of our nation's iconic monuments, through the crowds attending the Pride celebration, and alongside the enormous FIFA World Cup fan festival. It struck me how many different stories America was telling at the same time - history, celebration, patriotism, sports and community - all unfolding within just a few city blocks. Before long, however, the city gave way to trails and the ride settled into its familiar rhythm.

It turned out to be a relatively uneventful day. After the excitement of Washington, that wasn't such a bad thing. As I approached Annapolis, one view reminded me exactly where I was. Looking back across the water toward the United States Naval Academy, I couldn't help but pause. It was another reminder that over the previous sixty-plus days this ride had quietly become a journey through much of America's geography and history, not just across it.

That evening Amanda had made Father's Day dinner reservations overlooking the Chesapeake Bay. Just the three of us - Karen, Amanda and me. Fresh Maryland seafood. A beautiful sunset. It never occurred to me, when we first planned this ride, that Father's Day would be spent somewhere between Washington and the Atlantic Ocean.

The Penultimate Ride

One thing you don't do on a bicycle is ride across the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. So we loaded the bike into the RV, crossed the bridge, unloaded everything on the other side and continued the ride from there. Once underway, the route was relatively flat, and for a while I settled into an easy rhythm. What caught my attention, though, wasn't the riding. It was the farming. Even this close to the Atlantic Ocean there were fields of corn, wheat, barley and tomatoes stretching across the landscape. After more than 3,000 miles, agriculture had become one of the constants of the journey. We had seen it in California, across Arizona, New Mexico and Texas, through Oklahoma, Missouri, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio and now Maryland and Delaware. Different crops. Different climates. Different growing seasons. But everywhere we traveled, there was evidence of America's remarkable ability to produce food. It reminded me why this ride began. The challenge isn't whether our country can grow enough food. The challenge is making sure every child has access to it. That thought stayed with me for much of the morning.

About nine miles before Harrington, Amanda stopped to admire a horse grazing near a fence while I continued toward the hotel. Later that afternoon I learned I had missed another one of those encounters that happened frequently throughout this ride. The owner of the adjoining farm noticed Karen, Amanda, Scott and Sally looking at the horse and walked over to introduce himself. Before long he had invited them onto the property for a tour. The horses, it turned out, were championship harness racing trotters. A simple roadside stop became a conversation with someone they would never have met had we been traveling sixty-five miles an hour down an interstate. Traveling at the speed of a bicycle changes your relationship with people. You notice things. People notice you. Conversations begin that otherwise never would.

By the time I reached Harrington, another one was waiting. We checked into the Holiday Inn Express, where General Manager Ahmet Solomon welcomed us as though we were returning guests instead of first-time visitors. After learning about the No Kid Hungry Ride, he immediately wanted to know what he could do to make our stay easier. Some hotels provide a room. Others become part of the journey. Ahmet and his staff were among those who did, and I wanted to publicly thank them for their kindness and hospitality.

Why This Ride Matters

That afternoon we hurried to beat an approaching storm for what turned out to be one of the more meaningful visits of the trip. We met with Kara Panowitz, No Kid Hungry's Maryland Program Director, and Beth Brewster, Director of Food and Nutrition for Caroline County Public Schools. They welcomed us into an impressive culinary education center housed inside a beautifully restored school building dating back to 1903. Beth explained how the building had been transformed and, more importantly, how No Kid Hungry had helped expand meal programs throughout the county. Throughout the ride I had talked about childhood hunger. Here I was able to see one example of how donations become programs, and how programs become meals for children.

Fundraising can sometimes feel abstract. You send emails. You make phone calls. You ask people to contribute to a cause you believe in. Walking through that building made the connection tangible. The bicycle was simply the vehicle that brought us there. The real work was being done every day by people like Beth and her staff. Their story deserves more attention than I can give it here, and I hope to write about it separately.

We managed to beat the storm back to Harrington and ended the evening the way visitors to Maryland probably should - with soft-shell crab at The Derby.

Calling an Audible

Day 68 was supposed to be the finish. Mother Nature had other plans. The forecast called for rain from Harrington all the way to Rehoboth Beach. We had a choice: ride through the rain because the calendar said we should, or do what we'd done throughout the previous two months. Adjust. Over the course of the ride we had rerouted around storms, worked through mechanical issues, navigated road closures, dealt with unexpected gravel, GPS problems and, at one point, a back injury that threatened to end the ride altogether. Postponing the finish by one day was simply another adjustment. So we packed the RV, drove to Rehoboth Beach, checked into the hotel, and decided to return to Harrington the following morning to finish the ride under what looked to be much better conditions. Getting to the hotel, however, didn't mean the day's problem-solving was over.

One challenge readers may not appreciate is finding parking for a thirty-one-foot RV. Too tall for most parking structures. Too long for many public lots. Dewey Beach offered few options, and most required permits. Scott did what Scott had done for more than two months. He solved the problem. After a visit to the local police station, he was directed to someone with a private lot that could accommodate the RV. Looking back, I realize much of Scott's work began after I climbed off the bike each afternoon. While I was recovering from the day's ride, he was preparing for the next one. He loaded and unloaded equipment, maintained the bikes, found parking, solved logistical problems and quietly handled dozens of details that made the following morning possible. Much of that work happened behind the scenes. Without it, there would have been no ride.

That evening we gathered at Eden Restaurant for what became our unofficial pre-finish celebration. Joining us were Zachary, Frankie, Amanda, Rebecca, Jayden, Laura Washburn from No Kid Hungry and her husband, my Walker & Dunlop colleague Mitch Resnick, and Sally. Mitch lives just outside Rehoboth Beach, and by coincidence the final route would pass directly in front of his home. Since he had supported the ride from the beginning, it seemed only fitting that he join us for dinner. As you might imagine, there was no shortage of stories around the table. Before dinner ended, though, I wanted to recognize two people without whom none of this would have happened.

Karen has lived this ride as long as I have. Long before I pedaled the first mile, she lived through months of planning, fundraising, sponsorship discussions, media outreach and all of the preparation required to turn an idea into a reality. Once the ride began, she somehow managed to keep everything moving. Lunches appeared every day. Laundry got done. Interviews were scheduled. Hotel reservations changed. Donors received updates.

One observation, however. While a big fan of peanut butter, after sixty-nine days of primarily peanut butter and jelly - or peanut butter and Nutella - sandwiches or peanut butter and apples for lunch, I can safely say I'm ready for a little more variety. Unfortunately, the RV refrigerator never really worked, so my culinary expectations on the road had to remain fairly modest.

Scott's contribution matched Karen's in a different way. He drove thousands of miles. Worked on my back and legs almost every day. Kept the bikes running. Found bike shops when we needed them. Solved problems before they became crises and took the responsibility of keeping us safe seriously. 

Looking back, Karen and Scott experienced a very different America than I did. I saw it from the saddle of a bicycle. They experienced it through conversations in small towns, antique stores, restaurants, back roads, grocery stores and all of the places that filled the hours between my rest stops. Putting two people who barely knew each other into an RV for more than two months could have gone a lot of different ways. Instead, they became a remarkably effective team. They laughed a lot and enjoyed each other's company, even though at times they were at odds about which way to go - or what I affectionately called being DC, "Directionally Challenged." Their relationship made my job considerably easier.

Before the evening ended, Laura presented me with a plaque from No Kid Hungry recognizing the ride and the support it had generated for the organization. It was unexpected and deeply appreciated. Dinner concluded with the restaurant insisting on providing dessert after learning why we were there. It seemed like an appropriate way to end the evening. The next morning we would return to Harrington. There were only forty-eight miles left.

Fundraising Continues

This journey has come to an end but the mission continues. Over 69 days and 3,000+ miles, this ride was never really about the bike — it was about every child who deserves a meal to learn, grow, and thrive. If this ride moved you, the best way to carry it forward is to give. Together, we can make sure that no child in America goes hungry.

To donate: https://www.nokidhungry.org