Four years ago today I set out on an epic journey with my best friend, Amy Garbark. We had a plan that involved two bicycles, and a ride that would start at her door step and end at mine. Just two best friends riding from one girl’s house to the other. Only Amy’s house is in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and mine (at the time) was in Burlingame, California, and the ride was over 3,500 miles. This trip was one of the best adventures of my life. We took two months and met fantastic people, stayed in incredible places, cycled every mile through Colorado’s Rockies – our highest summit was Monarch Pass, elevation 11,312 ft. We camped in one of the worst bear infested areas in Colorado (unbeknownst to us!). We were rescued from a blizzard, toured through one of Marlboro’s largest contributing tobacco farms, stalked a few Amish, and ate more calories then I think I am able to count. I miss those days. I miss waking up and knowing that the only thing I had to accomplish was to make it from point A to point B – and even that was not too pressing. We toured the nation, by bicycle. It felt like we owned America that summer – I think we did.