Things I'm looking forward to during the first couple weeks:

• That first moment of pedaling with a loaded bike, continuing onward from where I left off
• Arriving to my first sleep spot and having time to reflect
• Stopping in at local libraries + swimming pools, as I pass through towns in Missouri + Kansas, especially to beat the heat
• Icy cold drinks when it's hot + humid 
• Experiencing the Ozarks by bike
• The transition between Missouri hills + Kansas plains
• My first Mail Drop!
• Overcoming the challenging moments I'm sure to experience
• Waking up early enough to get a jump start on the ride, especially if it's a forecasted hot, humid, rainy, and/or windy day! 
• Tailwind! {Let's hope there's lots of it!}
• Sleep after a long day of cycling
• Pie from Cooky's Cafe
• Meeting locals 
• Eating a meal at the end of a day's ride

Cooky's Cafe

There’s a part of Into Thin Air, where Jon shares he and other Westerners would have “steaming mugs of Sherpa tea in our sleeping bags,” brought to them by the Base Camp cook and the cook boy. 
I thought about how lovely it would be to wake up and have warm tea or coffee to sip while nestled in my sleeping bag. 
There’s a part of bicycle touring that is just so freeing and fun. The day is your own and when solo-traveling, all you have to take care of is your own needs. But having been married for almost 23 years, I’ve appreciated the partnership that I have with my husband. He absolutely would bring me a mug of coffee (or cortado, equal parts steamed milk and espresso), which makes me anticipate how much I will miss our in-person partnership while I’m away. 
We will absolutely still have partnership that comes in the form of talk, text and video chats. But the in-person, home sharing and family rearing will be on pause while I’m away. 
I suppose I will find ways to appreciate the small tokens of care that my husband will share with me, along with the ways I’ll be caring for myself. 
I can absolutely boil my water and make a tea or coffee to sip in the morning before heading out. But I already know that a big challenge for me will be longing to be back home with my family, where mugs of coffee are made and brought to each other in the morning. 
I’ll be gone a short bit, in the scheme of things! I’ll have to remind myself I’m not gone forever, this bicycle ride is of my choosing and I can push through challenging times. 
Cheers (raises coffee mug)! 

Loyal Coffee, Colorado Springs, Colorado 

I’m re-reading Into Thin Air by Jon Krakauer. This book is a “personal account of the Mount Everest disaster” that occurred in May 1996. Climbing Everest, or any peak for that matter, feels hard to comprehend. The desire to spend several weeks climbing from Base Camp to the various camps that are set up higher on the mountain is hard to comprehend. And yet, this book tells the story of so many climbers, guides and workers that put themselves in those situations. It’s easy for me to think, I could never do that. But what’s actually the biggest truth is, I don’t want to do that. I don’t desire to climb Mount Everest. If I did, then perhaps I could consider, *could* I climb Mount Everest? 
I consider my bicycle ride to be someone else’s Mount Everest. They could never imagine themselves riding their bicycle hundreds or thousands of miles. That’s fair! When people say, I could never do that, I think what they probably also mean is, I don’t want to ride my bicycle that far. 
I’m weeks away from pedaling away from Goreville, IL. I’m feeling really excited about the first couple weeks, as I’ve got some ideas how it might feel to ride across the Midwest. I’m less sure about the last three weeks. I feel more nervous about how it’ll feel to ride through the Rocky Mountains and up into the northern plains. But I’m feeling up for the challenge and ready to see what’s next. 

View at Red Rock Open Space, Colorado Springs, CO

Why the TransAm? Learn more about the TransAm here ! But to answer your question, I decided on the TransAm over 10 years ago because it offered an opportunity to see a variety of landscapes. At the time, it was also a route that had history to it; 
From the site: The TransAmerica Bicycle Trail began in 1973, during our co-founder’s ride from Alaska to Argentina, as nothing more than an ambitious idea for a way to celebrate the nation’s upcoming 200th birthday. By June of 1976, the Trail was ready; the maps and guidebooks were published thanks to an enormous effort. Now cyclists were needed to ride it across the country. Given the name “Bikecentennial,” organizers publicized the event and thanks to strong word-of-mouth and its fortunate, prodigious publicity, 4,000 cyclists showed up for the ride.
The riders rode west-to-east in '76 but since then, riders have cycled both directions. In fact, there's a self-supported race on the TransAm every year, with the option to start on either coast. 
For me, riding west felt like the right choice. There will be wind coming from all directions and while we think of weather and wind coming from the west, Adventure Cycling Association shares "although the prevailing weather patterns are from west to east, local wind patterns are more dependent on the passing pressure systems and local terrain, so you can expect your fair share of tailwinds and headwinds regardless of which direction you ride the route." 
Heading west feels so historical and symbolic; riding my bicycle across the country would be following the path of so many. Like those before me, I'd be persevering through difficult landscapes and weather, in addition to the physical, mental and emotional challenges that arise when journeying over thousands of miles. 
Plus, now that I've ridden Virginia to Illinois, heading westward starts me out in the familiar midwest and progresses into the unknown that comes with landscapes found in Colorado, Wyoming, Montana, Idaho and Oregon. 
I've looked at other maps available on the ACA website and there are several that pique my interest. For now, though, I'll focus on finishing up where I left off, which is the last 2,900 miles of the TransAm. 

Wondering how I know where to ride? Assuming that because I'm riding what some call the TransAmerica Bicycle Trail (or Route) that I'm riding Rails-to-Trails the entire way? Adventure Cycling Association curates routes, including the TransAmerica Bicycle Route which spans across the country. Here's a video about the maps I'll be using. 

I'm a month out from heading out on my bicycle adventure. I can't believe it! I have a list of tasks to complete before I leave, and I'm feeling so curious about how my ride will unfold. 
Things I'm thinking about include: how many miles I'll cycle each day, whether my planned sleep spot will work out, whether it'll be really hot or really humid or whether there will be headwind all the time. I wonder whether I'll feel good in my body or regret even looking at my bike and deciding this trip is a good idea. And yet... I don't know any of those answers so I'm reminded to remain in my "right here, right now" mindset and tend to the things I can. 
​Here's to new adventures and new roads to ride and being ten years older and wiser and more experienced in this life of mine to do hard things. 

Ten years ago I bicycled from Yorktown, Virginia to Goreville, Illinois. With the exception of being driven from Honaker over Big A Mountain (yes, that’s the name!), ten miles or so to my camp site, my ride was powered by my own two legs, my green bicycle and lots of encouragement, nourishment and belief in self. 
It was an incredibly empowering experience and while I stopped early, I am proud of what I accomplished. 
I’ve always felt, however, that my ride wasn’t over. I have felt this longing to continue where I left off. It’s similar to how I imagine a runner might feel, stopping 6 miles into their marathon. They might feel like they still want to accomplish that feat.