From June 13 – August 17, I cycled across the United States as part of Bike the US for MS’s 2026 TransAmerica Team. Along the way, our team raised more than $445,000, spread awareness, and completed service projects to support people living with multiple sclerosis. I remain incredibly grateful to everyone who made this adventure possible.
The Mission
$445,000 raised by our team, and $151,726 donated by my amazing friends and family. After all this time, I still cannot find the right words. I am truly blessed to have so many kind, generous, caring people in my life who were willing to support people living with MS through my somewhat outrageous adventure.
Below is a note from Bike the US for MS about the organizations you supported this year. I had the privilege of meeting some of them, and I hope you are proud of the impact you helped make across the country.
From Bike the US for MS:
This year, we’ve been able to support 18 different beneficiaries across the country, ranging from major medical centers and research programs to small community organizations and individual projects. That includes some of the largest contributions we have ever made. In Seattle, $30,000 is being given through the Swedish Foundation in support of the Swedish MS Center. An organization we have been fortunate to build a longstanding relationship with. Other 2026 support includes the University of Miami MS Center of Excellence, VCU’s Neuroimmunology/MS Program, MS Alliance of Virginia, Cleveland Clinic, the MS Achievement Center at Fairview, Barrow Neurological Institute, Meat Fight, MS I’mpossible, and the Burke-Flint Project with the CoxHealth Foundation, alongside our new work with UCSF in San Francisco and grassroots MS projects around the country.
It was amazing to see what a group of ten cyclists could accomplish in someone's home over the course of a morning during our service days. That personal connection kept us motivated.
Our Beautiful Country
Early on, a fellow rider on his third cross-country ride said that he keeps riding because the country looks different at 12 miles per hour. I get it now.
There was such beauty out there that I had never experienced. Colorado was stunning, Utah blew my mind, and even the endless prairie held its own charms.
My favorite time to ride was the first few hours of the day. We typically left early to avoid the afternoon heat, so the growing light was at our backs. As the fog and mist burned off, I would have to remember to stop and turn around to appreciate the sunrise. All morning my shadow would grow shorter as the sun rose until my shadow fell behind me as I rode into camp.
I also learned the hard way that the best views were earned. The greater the climb, the greater the vista. One morning in the Ozarks, I pulled over just to stare out at the mist filling the valley below. Riding down the other side of the Rockies, I had to pull over again because the sheer number of vivid green trees surrounding me across different slopes gave me vertigo. It was just too beautiful to take in when trying to navigate a steep decline.
Unfortunately, there was also a pervasive sadness to experiencing the country so slowly. We learned the smells of decaying animals, even as they changed the farther we traveled. Deer gave way to armadillos, which changed to owls in the western states, among many others.
Not to mention the poverty so evident across many states. In western Virginia, the stories of economic hardship were all tied to the added burden it placed on those seeking MS treatments and supports. In Illinois, we stayed in a town where we were told that most people either work for the state prison, or have moved to be closer to incarcerated loved ones. In eastern Kentucky, we rode through devastatingly impoverished regions, which were also filled with dogs that could have caused serious harm if they caught us. (You don't know what you're capable of on a bike until you need to outrun a dog uphill.)
We also experienced the effects of extreme weather conditions and heat. We were pulled off the road twice, once for flash flooding in Kentucky and once for unhealthy air quality in Nevada. Fires constantly threatened to reroute us. The first day we saw the Rockies after crossing Kansas, they were hazy in the distance, shrouded by smoke. The town we slept in that night was filled with crews of firefighters, camping at the elementary school and lining up for meals from tents.
It was a sobering reminder that the beauty we had traveled so far to experience is increasingly under threat.
The Bike the US for MS Team
Our Route Leaders were absolutely amazing. I can't say enough wonderful things about them. Most in their early 20s, they had the unenviable task of corralling 30 riders who were two or three times their age. I wish I had their fortitude now, let alone decades ago. Each Route Leader was kind, encouraging, funny, efficient, and often just a touch sarcastic.
Whenever things went wrong, from flat tires to flooding to making the decision to pull us from the road, our leaders rose to the challenge. Most impressively, they were volunteers, donating their summers to the mission to ensure we had water stops multiple times each day, emergency repairs on the side of the road, cleaning up churches and campsites before leaving, and finding ice in the middle of nowhere for the coolers. I'm still in awe of them.
Behind the scenes, three more staffers were working hard to secure our lodging and manage countless other logistical challenges for rides all over the country. This small and mighty group has my utmost respect.
Thank you, Charlotte, Jordyn, Jonathan, Charlie, Andrew, Elise, Colin, Nick, James, Justin, and Duncan.
Getting the Job (Ride) Done
Thankfully, I can count on one hand the number of mornings I woke up and thought, "I really don't want to ride today." I do think there were some days when I might not have been fully awake until several miles in, but that's a whole different category.
While many on the trip spent their evenings poring over the maps, calculating the elevation climbs, and then talking about what was next at each rest stop, I stopped caring. One, people were hilariously wrong in their analysis (he knows who he is). And two, we were going to have to ride the ride either way. However, in this ignorance-is-bliss state, I almost missed celebrating when we climbed Monarch Pass, the highest elevation point on the ride.
There is something about coasting along on mostly empty roads that encouraged us to chat, share stories, and enjoy the experience together. It made even the most daunting days the most fun. Huge shout-out to Jamison, who rode with us from western Virginia to Colorado, and is the best biking buddy ever.
From Colorado to California, I enjoyed solitude on the road, crossing paths with other riders for quick chats and relaxing at rest stops together. I appreciated the freedom to move at my own pace, listen to my body about when to speed up or slow down, and just enjoy the experience without worrying about someone close on my wheel to draft.
A regret is that I didn’t stray from the path more or take my time each day. There were so many opportunities to explore, and way too often I focused on the destination each day. Some of the best memories were the side trips, like an afternoon trip to buy special hoodies, a long adventure to amazing waterfalls in Colorado, a sunset hike in Virginia, or the local Friday night music in the park. My anxieties about finishing the day, or finishing the whole trip, kept me from exploring as much as I wish I had. Now that I know I can do this, next time I'll do more. (If there's a next time.)
Eating, Sleeping, and Showering
Was a motivating factor for the ride the ability to eat anything I wanted for a summer? Definitely. I just had no idea how much fast food, fried food, gas station food, and dollar store food I'd consume. We were so grateful to the kind church ladies who fed us along the way, even if most of their salads were mayo-based.
My daily rest stop snack was peanut butter and jelly in a tortilla, usually 6 - 8 each day. Never again.
Thank goodness we were so tired at the end of the day, because we had some interesting overnights. You can rest assured that your donations were not spent on luxury accommodations for us riders! (I will admit that I was very happy to book my own indoor options when the heat was just miserable.)
We benefited greatly from the kindness of churches, schools, and towns in finding us air-conditioned places to sleep. There was also a rodeo hall, a library, a bank basement, and campsites. When there wasn't a shower, we might have the orange shower tent with a hose, but one night it was just a very cold waterfall.
If I ever do this again, I will take a picture of where I set up my sleeping bag each night; there were some funny spots, and by the end we turned it into a game. In the library, we picked the stack with our favorite author (I claimed Larry McMurtry); on a baseball field, we divided up by team positions. We also learned who snored the loudest (I was not completely innocent on this front).
Perhaps my favorite night of the whole trip was in a dusty field in rural Nevada next to an isolated dive bar with a porta potty and a goat. I don't know how late we stayed up talking, but the middle of nowhere felt very special.
Brief Conversations
In addition to my fellow riders, I met wonderful people this summer, many of them for only the length of a conversation, and I don't remember most of their names. We attracted attention wherever we went. From the farmer who flagged us down to ask questions, to the drivers curious about our vans, to the people who saw our Bike the US for MS shirts and stopped us in stores, each interaction revealed something new.
The most memorable was in Nevada. A woman arrived at the church where we were staying looking for a recovery meeting. There wasn't a meeting that night, but she stayed to read. I didn't realize she was there when I walked into the room looking for a place to charge my phone. I'll admit that I was in a bad mood for the most unimportant reason, and almost turned around before she asked why there were so many bikes in the church. We talked for nearly an hour. I'll never forget her.
Special Guests
Of course, a special shout-out to my family. Not only did I get to stay in Charlottesville on the third night, but we also rode through Davis, CA, where my family hosted a rest stop. There was nothing better than home-baked goodies from Mom, seeing Bob, and having my sister and nephew ride a few miles with me. (Now that Jen and I have both biked cross-country, maybe Josh will be the next Plant to do it.)
Loss
Over the course of the trip, we experienced a variety of losses that stayed with us until the end. A lot of life can happen over a summer. Riders lost family members or had to leave to care for ailing family. Several riders had to depart for medical reasons, including the rider living with MS, who had to take a break in Kansas, and then again once we reached Colorado. We were so grateful he joined us for the last day into San Francisco because it wouldn't have been the same without him.
Most tragically, the day we rode into Utah, Doug, who was traveling independently in support of a fellow rider, was killed in a car accident. A 25-year Army veteran, Doug went out of his way to help any rider he could, from fixing equipment to providing rides when needed (like when he found me walking in the wrong direction to the laundromat in horrendous heat). He was new to biking, but had 30 riders happy to give him advice. We shed a lot of tears remembering Doug through our final states, and were thinking of him when we reached the coast.
Doug is seated in the middle of this photo I took the day we reached the Rockies.
Joy
I didn't realize this photo was being taken, but it helps bring back the final moments of the ride, which are otherwise very hazy. Lisa was a pillar of support for me and one of my favorite people this summer. I can't imagine getting through the ride without her. I don't know that she and I had spoken yet when we stood on the sand in Yorktown, 65 days earlier, but this celebration in San Francisco says it all.
I'm somewhere between laughing and crying in this picture, and definitely grateful.
The Road Ahead
Like most of the days on the ride, I don't know what's down the road. I spent so long thinking about, talking about, and planning for the ride that its completion is bittersweet.
There's now a map in my office tracing each place where we stayed, which helps me hold onto the magnitude of the summer. Three dozen strangers came together through their love of biking to make a difference. While it's remarkable to get to say our team broke fundraising records, the real value of that statement is in the work we accomplished.
This was a journey made possible by so many, and every single person has my deepest gratitude. Writing this and looking through photos has brought back a lot of moments that have gotten lost in the day-to-day reality of returning to work and life.
I don't know how to keep that alive and present in my life, but I will try. Because remembering that I biked across the country has to be easier than actually biking across the country, right?
