HOLY SHIT WE RODE OUR BIKES FROM CANADA TO MEXICO. (oops, I forgot to turn off the track when I got in the shuttle) We planned to leave for our border run pretty early to avoid heat and high winds- it turned out to be a good choice. The dawn skies and morning light on the mountains were gorgeous. The Antelope Wells port of entry is actually closed and has been since even before COVID, so the only traffic we saw was a handful of Border Patrol trucks/vans and a couple semis hauling hay. The riding was blissful and bittersweet, and I kinda hauled ass for no reason other than because I could. My biking legs are strong, y’all. Also, I finally got bold enough to ride my loaded bike hands-free and I almost made it a whole mile before a bug flew into my face and startled me into grabbing the handlebars. My pace meant that I got to our regroup spots with a bit of time to wait, so naturally I sat in the middle of the completely empty road and took selfies. Megan, Alyssa and I met up for the last time at the 2 mile marker and rode in together, yelling and laughing and generally just being weirdos. The iconic ‘U.S. Customs and Border Protection’ sign that we’d seen in every finisher photo was right there, in real life. We made it! We rode the whole damn thing! The militaristic border compound was a bit surreal, and the Trump-style border fence looked just like I’d seen in the news (there were several layers of chain link fence before it so you couldn’t get close at all). We took tons of photos and I drank a Coors Light at 10am with my breakfast burrito, because why not. Soon enough Jeffery Sharp rolled up with his Volvo and trailer, and we picked our bikes up off the pavement for the last time and loaded them up. We done did it.