There are moments in time when the mind and body come together in perfect unison, finding harmony that can only be achieved when the latency between thinking and doing is removed. There is an effortlessness; a beauty to it as there are no boundaries or friction that prevents the motion from flawlessly occurring. Athletes call this “the flow” or being in the zone. But, when those two fail to connect in that perfect moment, we call that “reality check.” This is the story of the latter.

I woke up at 4:00am on the third day of the ride. The sleeping patterns I experienced the first couple of days continued, and I was ok with it today. It was one of the big days I had on the schedule; 105 miles with 8200ft of climbing ahead of me. I would be going over Vesuvius – always thought it was in Italy – that is part of the Shenandoah National Park of the Appalachian Mountain range. The Appalachians were the first of three North Americas mountain ranges I would be climbing over to get back home.

I had recently changed this part of the schedule, initially ending in Lexington at mile 82. But, as the start of the ride got closer, there became a part of me that wanted to experience more remote parts of the trail. Given the amount of climbing I had to do, I really couldn’t add more than 20-30 additional miles to the schedule. I also wanted to ensure I would have a bed to sleep on with walking distance to food to replenish myself. With that, I found Buchanan VA, a very small town of around a thousand people, and an Airbnb to rest my head.

I spent the morning writing a bit, with the couple of hours I had before starting. Elena and I have been handwriting in a shared journal for about a year now. We created a shared document to continue the habit while I was on this trip. It was an interesting way to share our thoughts - good and bad - without there being an immediate reaction from the other person. It has allowed us to release pressure and communicate thoughts without the fear of an argument, while also giving the reader time to process and reflect on the words of the other person. It forced us to truly hear the words instead of reacting to them.

I started biking at 6:45am, and the morning in Charlottesville was a beautiful cool 56F, and without the need of any layers, I headed out of the city through a downhill winding road surrounded with trees and dense vegetation. Ever since leaving Fredericksburg, I noticed that my pedaling had gotten more peaceful with each day as if I begin to understand that my destination on this trip was being on my bike. I was slow pedaling, undulating over the lush green rolling hills as the sun started showing its brightness. And my eyes would feast on the stunning properties with beautiful homes for the first 17 miles. I was happy.

The climb up to Vesuvius started at mile 24, and I had not done a good job scouting the route for water and food stops. Any opportunity for water, you take it, and this opportunity came in the form of a charming farm market called Chiles Peach Orchard, slightly outside of the town of Crozet. I pulled inside and stocked up my body immediately with a couple of bottles of water – the temperature was slowly climbing at this point, and I wanted to have reserves. As if on queue, the workers who were just getting the market ready for opening, blasted the Marvin Gaye song “Got to Give it Up” as to sending me a not so subliminal reminder, and of course try to keep things groovy today.

After a 15-minute break, I started pedaling to the base of the mountain to begin the long climb up. During the first 30 minutes, a pack of cyclist came by, giving me encouragement as I hauled my bike with cargo up the steep first parts of the ascent. As I climbed slowly up the mountain, miles continued to tally up without a sign of a break in sight. I started panicking about water. Until now, the miles and ride profiles had been numbers in an excel sheet and routes on a map represented by a few inches. And with each minute I was unable to connect what was registered in my mind to how my body was feeling, the brain muscle started faltering. During my Ironman training days, the best advice I received was the first muscle that will fail is your brain. You will tell yourself what you can and cannot do. Now, I would not call myself a mind over matter person… I believe you must put in the work and effort to be better at something. Once you do that, then the mental part makes all the difference.

I finally reached a water station at mile 36, and was relieved to replenish myself. At this point, the temperatures were creeping into the 90s. I filled my stomach with another two bottles and refilled to continue. While crossing an overlook called Ravens Roost, 42 miles and 4700ft of climbing behind, I decided to take a break and enjoy my sandwich along with the stunning wide open valley floor beneath my feet. Beyond the occasional dark moments, I was at peace with where I was and what I was doing. A 30 minute break with some calories and water had made all the difference. As I continued to ponder away, a reminder to not get too comfortable with the moment came from two Harley Davidsons pulling into the overlook while blasting country music. It was my time to get going, and I still had 63 miles and 3500ft of climbing to look forward to. Overall the total climb lasted for about 30 miles before I started heading down a very steep 12-16% grade on the backside, very quickly getting me off the mountain that I worked so hard to get up.

Once I was on the other side, the extremes I had observed throughout the ride were amplified. Starting the climb from the serenity of rolling hills with opulent touches were replaced by towns trying to continue their existence. I felt the hardship while going through them at that moment.

The next 20 or so miles under a very bright sun would be the sharp rolling hills I had experienced coming into Charlottesville a day earlier. Pulling into Lexington, I was very thirsty as I had run out of water 10 miles back in the 95F heat. I found a much-needed shaded grass area under a massive tree to hide to catch my breath, hydrate and eat a bit of food. After a quick break and FaceTime with Elena, I realized my GPS tracking had failed a few miles back. Luckily, the routing was still working, albeit I would not really know how many miles would be left as I continued along. When you’re tired, that could be good or bad. But in this case, I just wanted to be done with the day, so the unknown was more psychological than anything.

A couple of hours of angry pedaling over a few more climbs later, I would pull into the town of Buchanan VA, tired, hungry, but satisfied with my decision to continue from Lexington. I had shaved off 23 tired miles from the next day’s ride by continuing on, and would have a relatively casual remaining 180 miles of this section, spread over three days before my first recovery day off. But all would be forgotten with a wholesome hamburger, fries, and a root beer. And tomorrow would be a new day.

From Buchanan over the next three days, my rides would take me west bound along the Tennessee border before I would have my first recovery day off. What was not as physically challenging took a mental toll as the weather turned on me with sporadic downpours that required finding shelter to see them out. Rides would have a couple of additional hours added on due to the many starts and stops. But there is a romance to riding under the rain to some point. You are fully immersed and exposed to the natural elements in which sometimes we forget that we are a part of.

But days 4, 5, 6 would be about my fascination of the barns I would come across throughout Virginia. I was mesmerized by their beauty integrating with their surroundings no matter how dilapidated they had become. I wondered when did they fully live; what stories would they be able to tell? Their rotting beauty provided stunning contrast to the nature it sat in. Then there were the ones that had fully handed themselves over to nature. When I hear people say that we need to save the planet, I wonder if they know the planet will survive and thrive after it gets rid of all of us. They should perhaps change the narrative to let’s save ourselves by taking care of the one thing that is so beautiful and allows us to exist. I am glad the Virginians saw the beauty of these barns remaining part of their land, their history. The old and the new existing harmoniously together.

My Day 5 ride from Radford would take me into Rural Retreat, a small farming town in the foot of the last climb out of Virginia. I had found a place to stay on one of the farms through Airbnb. Arriving at the location, I was immediately struck by its beauty, with a creek running through the middle of the property, farm animals roaming around, and three big beautiful dogs coming to greet me with a warm and playful welcome. But this farm was about its inhabitants, Shelly and Tom.

Since starting this journey a week ago, I had not really met or spoken to anyone beyond occasional pleasantries. The couple, who had bought the farm in 2015, were very welcoming and the unit was a separate cottage off the main house. I had privacy but also integrated to their porch for some socialization. Shelly and Tom had met in college at Texas A&M, “at a bar, of course” Tom proclaimed. After Shelly had left to go into town to run some errands, Tom and I had a chance to connect and tour the 73 acre property on a UTV, with the Pyrenees and Hound Dog sitting with us in the vehicle while the Aussie Shepherd ran along side. We climbed up to a vantage point towards the valley while checking on the cows with their calf. Then the goats and chicken.

Tom had a visible disability. He was a retired Lt Colonel in the Marines, which he had joined as an infantry officer after graduating from A&M. They had been stationed out in California for many years, where he also pursued his master’s while on active duty as he “wanted to ensure he kept on exercising his brain muscle.” It would be an important decision for him that would play out over the next few years. We connected over our one time love of triathlons where he had done a handful of Ironmans himself in between tours. But in 2004, his life would irreversibly change after he was shot in the head and arm in Iraq that would leave him with permanent brain damage and slow developing paralysis. Over the next couple of hours, we would cover a wide range of topics, and exercise the type of vulnerability that you generally feel comfortable with close friends.

He was able to continue his military duty, finally retiring after 20 years in the service. They had bought the farm to keep busy physically and mentally, and not so much as a business; although, they were slowly making money. Over the past few years he would become more paralyzed on his right side, and his memory would keep getting worse, but it didn’t appear to be slowing him down. The decision to intellectually challenge himself with the master’s program was what he felt kept his mind in the game by forcing him to develop the need to keep on exercising that muscle. At one point, I asked him if he had any regrets…. He said one: his wife having to give up her career to help take care of him. She had to become what she did not want for herself: a military wife.

I woke up around 5am and walked out on to the deck to take in the fog that had descended on this property, creating a mystical view and feeling. I was contemplating on staying another night, changing my plans, but I decided to keep on pushing forward into my next stop. Since it was a relatively short and quick day, I took my time, enjoying coffee along with the egg casserole and peach muffins they had left for me. Then Tom knocked on the door to say goodbye as I was packing up and said “I was hoping you were going to decide on staying one more night.” But before I can answer, he continued, “but you need to keep on moving as you’re just at the beginning. You are going to meet a lot of interesting people along the way. And the ones that are not, just ignore them.”

I left that morning with a lot on my mind. I had a quick 42 miles to my last stop in VA called Damascus, a popular town for the Appalachian Trail hikers to rest and refuel for the continuation of their journey. The morning saw a 10 mile pleasant ascent along a stream heading down the mountain that provided background sounds and visual, but I was distracted with thoughts going in and out of my mind to be fully present with the surroundings. When I got to my accommodations, I let it all out. The previous day’s sharing of our respective traumas was very cathartic that I didn’t know I needed at this moment. But the reality, I was on this ride, right here, right now because of what I had gone through 2.5 years ago. And those two finally connected.

As my time with Virginia slowly started coming to an end, I realized my experience with her was similar to my experience over the past three year. The ups and downs that lead to a long and sometimes difficult climb out of grief and depression to be left with a crumbling side that was finally integrating and finding cohesion with the new parts of me as a whole. And when it all started coming together, I was left with being able to connect with someone on a level of honesty, vulnerability and authenticity, however brief it may be, worthy of the road that lead me there.

And with that, I concluded my beautiful time with Virginia.

-Troy

Ride Stats (Garmin Files):

6 days ridden
505 miles cycled
29790 ft climbed
2 flat tires
6 bike traveler sighting
1 dog attack
Many stories registered to long term memory

Virginia Part II: Me and Virginia