Biking & Building Across America

In 2018 I rode my bike across the United States—Jacksonville to Santa Cruz—with an organization called Bike and Build. B&B raises money and awareness for the affordable housing cause, while educating young adults about the U.S. housing crisis.

Over 11 weeks, we spent 61 days on the bike, 14 days volunteering on build sites, and had just 4 days off. We rode anywhere from 60-100 miles each day, stopping to camp in tiny towns and large cities all across the American South. As we made our way west and worked alongside local housing providers in each state, I was continually challenged by the intense climate and weather conditions, not-so-friendly drivers, and hearing different perspectives about housing affordability from community members.

Perhaps the most challenging part was spending so much time with 27 other twenty-somethings whom I had met for the first time just a few days before we started the ride. A random crew that would quickly become my teammates and some of my closest friends, we were from 18 different states, none of us having known one another before. The group included a New York City filmmaker, a recent high school grad on a gap year, several Americorps types, a couple of grad students, previous bike & builders, and a mix of people in-between jobs like me - all of us individually unique and bringing a completely different set of goals and values to the table.

We ventured across the rainy, buggy gulf from Florida through Louisiana, headed north on the hotter-than-hell and bumpy roads in Texas & Oklahoma, pedaled into intense New Mexico winds, hiked the striking deserts and canyons of Arizona & Utah, climbed Nevada mountains on a desolate route 50, and descended through a smokey Yosemite into California’s central valley. On our final ride from San Jose, we climbed beautiful, redwood-lined winding roads to finally reach the foggy beaches of Santa Cruz.

We rode in two straight weeks of rain, we stayed up too late and took naps on the side of the highway, we got attacked by a goose in Texas and saw tarantulas scamper across the street before us in Oklahoma. We were harassed by rude drivers on the road, at times having beer cans thrown at us, but we were also graced with true southern hospitality from the communities that showered us with biscuits. We camped, we hiked, we kayaked, we ate...so much. We argued, gossiped, danced, drank, fell in love, took care of each other, and cheered each other on. We sustained broken bones, aching knees, saddle sores (if you know you know), and horrific sunburns, and pushed our bodies to their limits. I sweated more than I knew was ever possible.

To this day, I am still digesting the impact of this trip on my life. I spent a summer away from the "real word" with a bunch of people I would have otherwise never met, and I think each and every one of us will tell you, this experience was unlike anything else we'd ever been through. I also had the chance to see America in a way most people never will, using only my legs to get me from one side to the other, taking in every bump in the road, bug in my face, 30 mph gust of wind, steep climb, rewarding summit, exhilarating descent. And on the days that felt nearly impossible, I had to remind myself that all I had to do that day was ride a bike. What a blessing.

I am more grateful now for each and every moment on my bike, even the painful ones, and I have learned to navigate life’s obstacles with more patience and trust. I learned to work with and respect people even if we have nothing in common. I now look at the two wheels of a bicycle not only as a mode of transportation, but a way to learn about geography, cultures, environments, people, and most importantly, myself. I've found what I enjoy the most about riding my bike is traveling slowly, taking on each day without agenda or expectation, and finding beauty and humor in the seemingly mundane, unplanned moments.