Tuesday, April 23rd. ATLANTIC OCEAN.

The crankiness of Sunday's arrival into the stimulus of a busy civilization was washed away by the Atlantic Ocean on Tuesday. We loaded up everything and headed out of the city. Though we'd originally planned to ride 75 miles or so to reach Bethany Beach, Delaware, we came to a consensus that we'd rather shorten the ride and have more time to celebrate at the beach before nightfall.

We unloaded the bikes just outside Delaware for one last 35 mile hurrah. Oh friends, how far we've come since the days of struggling up Nevada mountains! We cruised along the wide shoulder (Delaware DOT, we love you!) in pairs or threes, chatting in the sunny early afternoon sun. To ride together one last time -our legs thanked us, our hearts cried out in rebellion. Bittersweet.

In Ocean View, a small town 3 miles from Bethany Beach, we all stopped to regroup. The support team, who'd gone ahead to set up lunch, rode their bikes westward (counter-intuitive to us at this point), and met us at the grocery store. Mark and Suchocki picked up 2 bottles of champagne at the liqueria across the street, and the mouth of my water bottle for the first time tasted sweet bubbly brut instead of the powdered endurance drink to which it has become so accustomed.

Regulators, mount up. We did, and rode the last 3 miles we'll ever ride as R4WH 2006. Sometimes you can be excited about something with your words, yet still not have the physical manifestation of excitement surge through your body. Though my spirits were high, it wasn't until about a mile away from the water that I suddenly felt that ripple of emotion pass through me. A couple shoulder-shaking sobs of joy, then the return to a more muted bliss, smiling as I looked around at my friends, toasting each other as we rode side-by-side to our final destination. We laughed in disbelief when we reached the boardwalk and saw the vast blue-grey expanse of sea. Miles and miles of road under us, and now left with no more land to traverse.

I still get shoulder-shaking sobs, now with a little less joy and a lot more missing-people-I-love. In the backseat of the van as we pull away from the kids headed back to Columbus ... on the subway in DC, I look around embarrassed and glad no one notices ... as I sit in my friend's apartment, writing this. Oh, dear friends. I miss you. Thanks to all the friends, family, and strangers who've supported us on this grand journey. We shall not soon forget it.