On Saturday, September 6, 2008, I completed my trip from Boston, MA to Cannon Beach, OR by bicycle. 

I arrived at the Pacific shore at about 1:15pm, which means I was actually on the road to begin the 80-mile ride by 5:30 am, also known as before the crack of dawn, which actually felt great.

Standing at the dramatic, fog-swept but sunny Oregon shore, with Haystack Rock http://i.pbase.com/g3/70/542370/2/52631916.ORcoastHaystackrock.jpg looming in the distance, was incredible, and is a moment I'll remember for the rest of my life.

I'm going to write a longer post about the whole thing, as well as post some stuff from earlier in the trip, and probably a "what I've learned" or "reflections on the trip" piece. 

If you've been reading, please keep checking in for a while, because the new stuff will be fun, and will include some serious griping about eastern Washington, some more stuff about Seattle, my thoughts on Portland, some self-discovery stuff, and more. 

But since I'm posting now, I'd like to say that I'm very happy to have finished, very relieved that nothing crazy happened to mess things up in the last few days of the trip, and very thankful to everyone who has been supportive, let me stay with them, and otherwise helped me out during the course of this trip. 

And of course, I'm very thankful to Matt, who persisted in pestering me to do this thing until he finally convinced me - despite months of reluctance, hesitation, and a few near flake-outs - and who then put up with me, (well, most of the time anyway, heh) day after day, for two months after that. 

I probably won't fully realize the impact this trip will have on my life until months, or possibly even years from now, but I know I'm already unequivocally glad I went for it, and I know that someday, when I am suddenly looking at "the 80-year-old man" in the mirror instead of talking about him hypothetically, he and I will both be happy we did the bike trip across America.

Something that is crazy is that I remember lying in bed, looking at the ceiling in my apartment in Shadyside, closer to "go time" than Matt or anyone else would be comfortable knowing, thinking, "There's no way. What the hell was I thinking?  This is insane.  This was all a big joke, and it has to end now.  I'm not doing it."  Trying to put together the part of my brain that thought that stuff, and the part that now knows that I did in fact do this trip will be an insanely strange undertaking.  It will also let me know that no matter how strong or "real" those feelings of doubt and reluctance seem, I've got to step outside of my "reality" and comfort zone and force myself to do what I know is needed in order to create a new reality.   

I'm very disoriented right now, having a bit of trouble getting a grip on things, and feel a little insane, because I've been so focused on this trip for the last half a year or so, and now, suddenly, it's over - well, the biking part of it anyway.     

But, when I started the trip, I was very disoriented by the shift from working the same jobs, living my life the same way for a long time, etc.  Since I got over that confusion quickly enough, and shifted gears (yeah, pun intended) into bike trip mode, I imagine the new adjustment will be even more simple.  I mean, the bike trip only lasted for two and a half months, as opposed to, like, 5 years of what I was doing before the trip.

I'm hoping there's a lot of good stuff in store for the future, and really, I think I'm in a better position now to make things in my life, "the composition," look more like what I want them to after having done this trip. 

Absorbing and digesting it all will just have me in a massive metaphorical "food coma" for a while.  I think, however, when I recover, it's gonna be great. 

Agh!  Wow.  Thanks again, and please, check in again soon.