Luckily, our oasis in the desert of A1A is waiting at Marathon with snacks, fruit and beverages. In the cooler, there is a surprise. I find my second wind inside a can of Red Bull.
We get back on the road at the seven-mile bridge, which comes and goes with surprising ease. Looking over the edge, there is only crystal clear water and a few boats floating in the ocean. When I look up at the road I see the familiar back tire of Alex’s bicycle. After the bridge, we believe we are going downhill. An illusion? We manage to keep a 21 mph pace. As I move into the front I notice many, I mean more than just a couple, iguanas basking in the sun by the road. They bolt as one into the brush by the water as we approach and from there watch us pass by. Next it happens. On the next bridge a loud “pop and whoosh” breaks the silence and my back tire goes flat. “Be more careful,” Alex says. Like I have control over such things after having ridden 500 miles!
Soon, we come to a T-junction, the city of Key West. As we approach the marker pointing to Cuba, we see our oasis, Diana. The Champagne pops. Diana announces to the crowd our having just ridden from Jacksonville. Alex and I are cheered by the onlookers who wish us well as we debate throwing all of our gear (including our bikes) into the ocean. We made it. We have arrived.
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