Across America by Bicycle: Alice and Bobbi's Summer on Wheels

Reflections

Reflections 262 Reflections Stopping for tea and popovers on the broad expanse of lawn at Jordan Pond in Acadia National Park is a long-established visitor tradition , so we joined those who braved the cool mountain air in early autumn. Rows of chairs and tables lined the slope so that people could chat and sip tea as they watched the light change on the waters of the pond set in front of the North Bubble and South Bubble mountains. So peaceful. As we relaxed and reminisced about some of our adventures, shivering because once again we had failed to bring our jackets, a couple sitting nearby overheard us and asked some of the questions we had heard so often. It was not unlike numerous other occasions in the previous three months. Everyone seemed to wonder who we were to do such a crazy thing, and they appeared to enjoy hearing our stories as much as we loved telling them. Not only did the Jordan Pond couple encourage us to write a book, as others had along the way, but they suggested that we do what adventurers often fail to do in such accounts—explain how the trip affected each of us afterward. We liked their idea. Even though we both wrote the story in my voice, as explained in the preface, we believed that Alice should share her reflections in her own voice. Thus we begin our final chapter with her personal afterthoughts about our adventure, followed by my own. Alice It was fabulous to fulfill my long-time dream—to pedal such a great distance, play outdoors for a whole summer, live so simply, talk and listen to people along the way. I loved every single day. When I later heard a presidential candidate concede an election, saying, “I will never be the same,” I had an inkling of what he meant. Visiting communities and subcultures different from my own— even for a short time—has led to understanding, and that process Reflections 263 has strengthened a value that I hold dear—being able to adjust to and appreciate differences. Some call it a belief in pluralism, some call it diversity, and just about any term we assign to it results in charges of political correctness by one group or another. Maybe it’s enough to say that I love to learn and that because of my bicycling adventures and the exposure to so many different and marvelous people and places, I feel safer, more secure, and more optimistic about our country than I ever have before. Physically, despite my fall allergies, it was not as difficult as I had anticipated—a pleasant discovery. Some friends, even those who knew of my past bicycle touring, wondered whether my body would hold out—heart, lungs, joints. I wondered, too, because I had never attempted such a demanding trip. Anything could happen, I knew, but our bodies became virtual machines. When we gave them the necessary calories and nutrients (and occasional doctoring), they performed well. Any exercise physiologist would say there really is no mystery in that. My muscle tone increased, my not-so-young heart and lungs became stronger, and I felt good, even when I was tired or fighting infection. Our trip was harder in some ways than in others. For example, certain emotional hurdles were difficult for me to overcome. I like to think I am good at compartmentalizing, but pedaling across the country required true, single-minded focus. I thought of my husband and grown children frequently, missed them desperately, and wished that they could have shared my pleasures. I will be eternally grateful for their support and sacrifices so that I could selfishly pursue my dream for three months, but I don’t think they can possibly imagine how tortured I was when my husband was ill or how sad I was that I missed seeing my daughter at the height of her first pregnancy . Little Ethan dutifully waited until my trip was over to enter the world, and I was able to hold him right away, but Booth had two surgeries without me at his side. He had assured me that if it were 264 Reflections open-heart surgery he would have wanted me there (and I would have found a way), but only after he had recovered did he admit that he wished I had been...