Riding into the blue

Day 77, Stage 53 - Palm Beach Shores to Miami
80 miles in 6hrs 20mins (incl. one bike shop trip and just snacks and
juice stops again)
Total, and final distance - 4,745 miles

"It's not in the bag. It's not in the bag. Focus. You've still got a long day to do."

I forget the exact stats but is it something like 80% of mountaineering accidents that happen on the descent. And what's the other stat about car accidents within a few miles of home. I didn't know the numbers but I sure as hell knew the principle. I would have to focus for five to six hours in the saddle like I never had before.

This wasn't over, not yet it wasn't.

I quickly had 10 miles chalked up. Still 70 to go so not walking distance yet. And I would walk if need be, of that I had no doubt. The road then turned onto the A1A along West Palm Beach and various other lush neighbourhoods. Where, in the space of the next 35 miles or so I saw more folk out cycling than I had all trip combined, easily. Speaking to a few of them (Tony, then Jim & Mike - to whom I'm grateful for the 'tow' - though I did do my share) it turned out that there'd been a few races on that morning. I was loving the double takes that we were getting from the passing racers as Mike, Jim & I sped along in a chain gang with the full set of panniers on my machine.

The cyclocomputer was showing forty one miles. Less than forty to go. "Now that's walking distance" I thought. Barring a crash, I was going to be in Miami tonight. I was relaxing a bit, but so was the rear wheel as another spoke gave up. To ride on or not? I decided to play it safe so tracked down Downtown Bicycles who quickly fixed it and almost cheered me out the door on my way down the road such was their enthusiasm. Thanks folks.

The road then climbed over the 17th Street bridge - one of the less severe climbs of the trip, but positively Matterhornesque in comparison to the 700+ miles I'd seen so far in Florida. A brief, but hairy stint along Highway 1 beside the Fort Lauderdale Airport was the last noteable obstacle before I rejoined the A1A and 'Miami Beach' appeared at the top of the gps screen. 21 straight, flat miles to go. I still couldn't relax, though, but I was almost smiling. The purple line was getting shorter though. I'd been through this 'end-of-stage' feeling over fifty times already this trip this was the same but oh so different.

'91st Street' was the first I noticed. That's when it hit me, I was in Miami. The countdown of streets felt almost as slow as that of the miles into Perry in Sunday during the 189 mile day but it was excitement today. 59th, 45th, 34th. I was anxiously glancing in my mirror looking for that car/truck/bus that could ruin everything. But, thankfully, there was'nt one.

The road took me round one more corner ... I looked up to the glorious sight of the sunshine on my hotel ... I was there, and couldn't quite believe it.

I pulled off the road and just stood there looking in awe at it for several minutes before moving on to cut a tyre-width furrow in the white sands of the Beach as I pushed past the bathers and into the beautifully warm Atlantic water.

The hotel staff were, I think, a bit puzzled as I pulled up outside coated in sweat, salt, sea and sand.

"Hi, I'm checking in"
"Ok sir. If you just bring your bike in here. Where are you riding
from?"
"Seattle"
Silence

I unpacked the bike for the last time, got into my hotel room, sat
down, switched the tv, then I realised, there was no need to find the
Weather Channel....

.....it was over.