Trans Am 2017 Day 20: Daleville, VA to Mt. Olivet Baptist Church, VA — 214 Miles, +11,532 ft

17 min readNov 10, 2017

I slept straight through my alarm, as I did in many of the last days, and woke up maybe 45 minutes or an hour after I’d planned to. On other days I’d felt like it was OK, that it would end up being a good thing, but this close to the finish I thought it was just a waste of time. It was now after 6, and I could hit the free breakfast, so that’s what I did. I went in there and ate something and grabbed others for the road, then set out. I made my way back to the route — extra miles always seem super far — and was relieved to be back pedaling towards Yorktown, not Kroger. I was in Troutville pretty quickly, embarrassed that the night before this town seemed impossibly far, but there wasn’t anything there anyway so I’d been smart not to go on.

I felt strong after Troutville and chatted with my sister Hannah for a while. I had to hang up, though, when I peeled off the road to take a bathroom break under a bridge. My stomach issues were still flaring up at points, and I would regularly hit the trees in the last three days and there was no holding it in.

I got to Buchanan, where I’d seen that Ken had spent the night, and was buoyed by the fact that he didn’t make it to Lexington either. But, he had gotten moving quickly that morning and was now a good ways ahead. After Buchanan, I was not stoked to find that I had a long chunk of road on Highway 81. I pulled onto it and called my mom, asking if I was mistaken at how long we were on here. It wasn’t the first time we’d been on an interstate (Highway 80 in Wyoming for 14 miles), but it seemed stupid because there was a frontage road right next to it that we’d been on for a lot of the past hundred miles. Oh well, gotta follow the GPS.

Trucks honked at me and I felt silly, but the shoulders are so massive I could hang out a good distance from any passing vehicles and felt pretty safe. I passed an on ramp and saw a cop sitting there, then saw his lights go on. Oh yay, a hot pursuit! I looked over at the cars going by to see who might have been speeding. Then all of the sudden he was behind me, lights flashing, the hot pursuit taken up at 13 miles an hour! Shit. I stopped and waited for him but he didn’t move, so I hesitantly made my way to the car, gesturing if it was OK to approach. He indicated yes, and I wondered how the excuse of “Nathan Jones made me do it!” would fly. I hung up on my mom, who was laughing, and approached the window.

The officer was kind, and told me there were signs everywhere indicating bikes were not allowed, and I told him honestly that I hadn’t seen them. Even if I had, I probably would have gone on just in the interest of sticking to the GPS route, but I didn’t tell him that. I told him I was following a race route and had he heard of the Trans America Bike Trail? He hadn’t, and he remained a little baffled that I was biking on an interstate. I wondered if he would give me a ticket, but there was no indication that he would. After a few minutes of back and forth, I made my way up the onramp and onto the frontage road. What would the dot watchers say!! I called my mom back to let her know I hadn’t been marked a felon, and I didn’t feel that great about being off the GPS route but much safer being on the frontage road. I wasn’t about to sneak past the cop to get back onto the interstate, so I rolled on.

I’d wanted to make it to Lexington before my next stop, but stopped with hunger on my mind at the gas station at the exit where we head to Natural Bridge. They didn’t have much, so I just used the bathroom and filled up water before heading out. I felt like I was covering ground pretty quickly but was definitely looking forward to Lexington. I started to fade fast a few miles out of town and was soon just spinning my pedals, hungry, tired, and feeling sorry for myself.

I’d wanted to sleep in Lexington, but there I was, not even in town yet and it was after 10. I actually got pretty low on this stretch, and was relieved when a couple local riders pedaled up behind me and pulled me out of it. We started chatting and I felt like I had the day before when Ken caught up to me. I was snapped out of my haze and all the sudden feeling pretty good and putting down watts. I told the guys that I was actually doing pretty well, just having a dark moment when they caught me, and they laughed.

Amy and I were talking to someone the other night about our different habits of calling our family. She would call people when she was feeling low, using the conversation as a pick me up, while I would call them when I felt good. I felt like calling them when I was low would only confirm that feeling, and they would ask questions like “Are you OK? What’s wrong?” This tended to just make me feel worse, and since I rarely talked to them when I felt shitty, they would get extra worried.

In the couple times I did call while not feeling good, I almost got annoyed at people for acting like something was really wrong. It is OK to feel shitty at times, that was the point of this. It didn’t mean that something was actually wrong. So, in these dark moments, maybe I should have relied on friends and family more to help pick me up, because they almost always did.

They were nice dudes and told me that the bike shop in town was really just one guy and pretty unreliable. I just wanted a pump (I’d had flats on both front and back in the last day and both were pretty low due to my poor hand pump) and one of the guys said his house was on main street and I could go use his. We chatted on the way into town and I was so relieved to have been pulled out of my funk. We pulled up to his house and he brought out his pump, then I was quickly on my way for a real meal. They’d told me that the one good coffee shop in town was closed. I was really sick of subway, so I just rolled through downtown to get to a gas station at the other end. They ended up having no hot food, so I got snacks and pedaled backwards to Subway. So much backwards movement, crap.

I was excited to be in Lexington, which I driven through with my sister Emily many years back. It’s a hilly town and I was tired (it was late at night), and I’d managed to roll straight through a stop sign at the bottom of a hill, even though I’d seen it and thought I’d given a decent pump on the breaks. A cop pulled up behind us and questioned me about whether I’d been drinking. I was maybe 17 at the time and pretty nervous. I’d end up getting a ticket but loved the town of Lexington, as well as the two college campuses there, and always wanted to come back. I even almost went to Washington and Lee.

Fast forward to 2017 and Lexington is still a very hilly town, and this return trip to Subway was maybe a quarter mile straight uphill. I finally got there, ordered a bunch of food, and downed a footlong breakfast sandwich with a lot of coffee and coke. I sat for a while, needing to recover and get my mind right. I felt like I still had a shot at the sub 20 mark, but would need to move fast. OK, but after I sit a while. I think I spent more than an hour in town with the pump, turn around, and sit down. I really needed it to get my focus back, though, and actually left with a renewed focus that would last for a while. I rode strong to Vesuvius, which is a beautiful 20 mile stretch going up a river, and was given some water by a really kind woman at the post office there. I hit the road quickly, excited for the challenge in front of me.

I never stopped on Vesuvius, but that was really only out of survival. I was worried that if I stopped, I wouldn’t be able to get back on my bike and would fall over trying like Bo had done in Missouri. So, I spent the entire way out of the saddle, my back getting a little sore, but determined to get through. There is a mile long stretch at the beginning of the climb that Strava calls the steepest mile on the climb, averaging over 11%, and that was tough. I misunderstood the length of the climb — the mile long climbs we’d been taken in since Kentucky had trained my brain for something shorter — and thought I was much closer to the top that I was after this steep stretch. But I kept going and the road flattens enough at points to be able to sit down, and I took full advantage of this. I finally got to the Blue Ridge Parkway feeling stoked. I pulled out part of the Subway sandwich and ate it at the junction of Steep AF road and Other Steep AF Road Called Blue Ridge Parkway. A touring motorcyclist pulled up and we chatted for a few as I ate. I knew I wasn’t yet at the true top and had a lot of climbing to do before dropping in to Charlottesville, but I felt strong and ready for it.

The Blue Ridge Parkway is probably the most beautiful stretch in the eastern half of the Trans Am, and I took a couple shitty pictures as I went. It’s also almost non stop climbing, which was kind of fun. There is zero shoulder though, so I spent the whole time looking over mine and worrying what was approaching. Fortunately there was not much traffic, and I wasn’t passed by many cars. The descents were a blast and the climbs tough, and I was eventually getting closer to Afton. Again, I didn’t know my mileage to anywhere, only the rough distance on the map, so was just hoping to get places. I was set on my next stop being Charlottesville, and breezed by the visitor center even though I should have reloaded my water.

A car passed going the other way, waving and honking as they went and I figured they must be a dot watcher. Sure enough, they peeled around and I found them stopped just before the turn off at Afton. I was happy to stop and say hey, but was pretty focused so didn’t stay long. He said my tracker wasn’t working well, which I knew, and that there was someone else nearby. I knew Sofiane was close and didn’t want him to catch me.

I rolled out and struggled to follow the GPS on the descent, turning around a couple times and pausing in confusion. I finally made it down and was a little surprised to see that I still had over 20 miles to Charlottesville. I didn’t have much food or water left, but was feeling strong and would make it work. For a couple miles, the road is a horrible, slow pavement like the worst of Illinois (I shudder at the memories), but we merged onto a better road after a while and I was cooking. I was excited to get to the milestone that was Charlottesville. All that was left after this was Richmond, then Yorktown! So simple.

I got hungry and ran out of water, so was stoked when I finally got to a gas station on the outside of Charlottesville. I was determined not to make the same mistake I had in Christiansburg by missing out on food. I wanted real food and a quick sit down and needed to charge my lights, so I plugged in, chugged a chocolate milk, and wandered around the store for a couple minutes before determining I needed to go somewhere else for a real meal. Sofiane came in looking spent while I did and agreed that we should keep going for better food. I looked up other options in town and it looked like we would run into a grocery store that would have some hot food.

We left the shop together, looking for food. Sofiane still rode like an asshole and was even worse in the crowded streets of this small city, so I apologized to all the cars we cut off. We didn’t pass anything obvious and were on the other side of town before we knew it. I wasn’t sure if Sofiane had a food plan — he was riding confidently like he knew where he was going — but I looked up somewhere on this end of town that we would hit. Ah good, a BP.

BTW, coming into Charlottesville was crazy. It is the first population center since Summit Country in Colorado (which is still way smaller), and the biggest single town since I think Corvallis in Oregon. It was a bit of culture shock to see people in fancy clothes after all the time on back roads.

Sofiane, the dude, looking his finest. Photo: David Elliot

But then all the sudden we were past the point where I thought the BP was and there was nothing. We were out of town and headed into the hills, both of us needing a resupply badly. The chocolate milk I’d chugged was holding me up pretty well, but all I had for snacks was the random emergency treats stuffed deep in my bag. I googled frantically and saw that, aside from a trip through Palmyra 20 miles ahead, we would be in pretty service free country until Richmond 100 miles ahead. Fuck, I’ve done it again!! There was a gas station in Palmyra that was listed as 24 hours on Google and that gave me some hope, but so many of these are wrong in these small towns. I tried the number listed on Google to check, but it didn’t work. Bad sign.

Sofiane said his plan was also that station in Palmyra, and it was clear we were both relying heavily on it. I was nervous about it and wanted to have a plan in case this spot would be closed, so I stopped to pee and look up the number on the Exxon website (it was listed as an Exxon station). I got a new number and tried it. To my massive relief, they were open until midnight, so we had plenty of time. Again, I’d made a mistake that could derail my race horribly and had been bailed out by luck. If this hadn’t been open, we would have had to go 8 miles off route for something near Palmyra, 5 miles off route when we crossed highway 64 20 miles later, or try and make what we had last almost 100 miles to Ashland, the next 24 hour stop on route. I pulled out the last of my snacks for the ride to Palmyra and got back on the road.

As I’ve mentioned here many times and will take any opportunity to mention again, I pedal a good bit faster than Sofiane and caught him after not too long. He is so super consistent and never gets off his bike, though, and that is what makes him so strong. It showed me the biggest thing that I need to be much better at.

He thought the hills would cease immediately after Charlottesville and couldn’t believe the rollers we had to contend with into Palmyra. He was exhausted and complained a lot about it, and this gave me a good laugh. At this point, we’d become friends and I enjoyed spending these couple hours with him. We rolled into town in the dark and hit the gas station.

I tried to push out a number 2, but had limited success. I washed my shorts as well, for whatever reason, so they were soaked. It was a weird obsession I had in the back of my mind at this stage of the race. We both chugged coffee and I ate a microwaved Chef Boyardee “pasta”, knowing that I needed some kind of semi real calories for the long night. I bought an insane amount of snacks then was ready to roll. When I walked outside, Sofiane offered me some pickles and I was stoked but surprised since I hadn’t seen him buy them. He pointed to a guy in an SUV who’d given them to him. I walked over to say thanks and chatted with the guy for a few. His name was TJ, and thought we were insane but wanted to do anything he could to help. He offered us more food, Gatorade, or anything from the store. He said we were heading into the backroads to Richmond and to be careful. We were so grateful for his support and positive vibes, and it was awesome to meet a friend out in the middle of the night. I also got some rando texts of support from friends that lifted my spirits in a huge way so was feeling great when we left town.

I chatted with one of my best friends from college, Jake, for a while until I ran out of service, and he was super pumped for me and where I was in the race. It was great to talk to him, and Sofiane and I were cruising. As most rides were, this one was again interrupted by a need for a number 2 and I had to pull off. Sofiane couldn’t believe it, saying that I’d just gone in Palmyra, but I told him that this was life and explained this was the only reason he was even close to me in the race. Just kidding. Sofiane now tells me I was the Tom Dumoulin of the Trans Am. Thanks, Sofiane! Tom’s a hunk and he wins. But he definitely does also take poorly timed poops.

I dipped into the woods and emerged after a while ready to go. I got on my bike only to realize I didn’t have my headphones, and circled around in the dark trying to find the spot where I’d gone into the woods. No luck, I would have to go into the night without music or phone calls, my best defenses against sleep. As I got moving again, a car going the other way slowed down to talk. He asked if we were doing a race or something, since he’d seen another rider only moments before when he got off the interstate. Sweet, I thought, I’m not too far from Sofiane and am about to cross Highway 64! Progress. He said we were crazy and I asked if he had trouble seeing us and he said no, we were visible, but that it spooked him to see these odd lights on the road that late at night. I apologized and said that it was reckless of us, which it is. He said no worries, just that he was tired and didn’t want to hurt anyone. He was super kind and I felt bad for causing him anxiety, but was encouraged to have such a positive conversation about the car/bike relationship with a stranger on a small road in rural Virginia at midnight. People are good.

I was cruising again but knew I probably wouldn’t catch Sofiane for a while. Since Palmyra, the road was pretty flat and super fast, so we were moving quickly and Sofiane mainly slowed on the hills. I passed under Highway 64 in no time and kept going northeast. I had a mental image of the road between me and Richmond, and knew that we would go this direction for a while, hit a lake and zig zag around a bit, then head southeast to Ashland, where we would turn due south. I didn’t have any music but was in the zone. I’d gone headphone-less in Kentucky for a stretch and enjoyed it, feeling like it gave me a different kind of focus, and enjoyed the same here. I was super focused and cruising fast.

I had day dreams in my mind of finishing and the massive pride I would feel. I couldn’t wait to see everyone. I’d talked to my mom earlier in the night and told her about my plan to ride almost through the night and she said it would be a battle, but that this was the perfect time to use the facepaint that she had sent me. Back in Newton, I’d gotten a letter from my mom that had a scavenger hunt and a couple different colors of pastel face paint chunks. THIS was the time to break out the paint, and I couldn’t wait. I determined that I was still feeling too good for it, and would put it on when I needed a big boost, probably after my nap. I was so excited to channel my mom’s savagery with some facepaint.

I pulled off at a gas station to clean myself up a bit after my trip to the woods, then was back on the road. I turned south pretty soon and felt like I was making great progress. I’d told myself that I would likely take a 30 minute nap at some point, then go the rest of the way to Yorktown, and knew that this would likely be non-negotiable because my front light was fading. I had a power bank so I could stop and charge without an outlet (my dynamo obviously not supplying power while stopped), but the light wouldn’t charge and run at the same time. So, I’d have to stop to charge or ride in the dark. I kept pushing hard and was definitely getting sleepy — partly because the road in front of me was getting darker and darker — and was lucky, again, not to run into any objects on the road.

I chatted with Luke a lot, and he spurred me on. We thought for a while that I had a shot at the 9 am cut off, but I would have to pedal through the night. For whatever reason, even before the light was fading, I’d told myself that I would sleep. Why? Just go dude! At that point I wouldn’t miss out of the 21 day cut off unless I had a major problem, so I should have just taken it to the limit to try and get the 20 day. But I think it became clear that 9 am in Yorktown was actually pretty unlikely and I lost a little steam from that realization.

So, I came across a big church a couple miles outside of Ashland, my light almost totally out, and I pulled off for a quick nap. I still felt strong and felt that sense of urgency, but as I plugged my light in and went horizontal, I couldn’t help but feeling like I did on my first night in Virginia. Like I was going to sleep feeling good, strong, and focused but would wake up feeling like shit and needing to pick up the pieces.

If I could have made it to Ashland, I could have fueled up, gotten a boost from the sunrise, and maybe kept that mental thread and urgency all the way to Yorktown. From the comfort of a couch, I can say now that I should have pushed through this tiredness and biked for an hour or two without a headlight just to keep focused. But, as it was, I went to sleep for 30 minutes and woke up in a totally different head space.

Trans Am 2017 Intro

Trans Am Day 1: Astoria, OR to McKenzie Bridge, OR

Trans Am Day 2: McKenzie Bridge, OR to Prairie City, OR

Trans Am Day 3: Prairie City, OR to Council, ID

Trans Am Day 4: Council, ID to Lochsa Lodge, ID

Trans Am Day 5: Lochsa Lodge, ID to Bannack State Park, MT

Trans Am Day 6: Bannack State Park, MT to Cameron, MT

Trans Am Day 7: Cameron, MT to Lander, WY

Trans Am Day 8: Lander, WY to Cowdrey, CO

Trans Am Day 9: Cowdrey, CO to Alma, CO

Trans Am Day 10: Alma, CO to Haswell, CO

Trans Am Day 11: Haswell, CO to Ness City, KS