More Than Miles: My STP 2026 Adventure
The older I get, the more I realize that long-distance cycling has very little to do with bicycles.
Yes, you have to pedal.
Yes, your legs ache.
Yes, your backside starts negotiating with you after the first fifty miles.
But that’s not what I remember when it’s over.
I remember people.
This year’s Seattle to Portland ride was no exception.
Because I no longer have anything to prove, I started in Lakewood instead of Seattle, making my journey 158 miles instead of the full 206. Some might say I “only” rode 158 miles.
Trust me.
There is no such thing as “only” 158 miles.
The Ride Begins
One of my favorite parts of STP is that it feels like a rolling family reunion.
Within the first few miles I was already talking with complete strangers who somehow didn’t feel like strangers. Some were riding STP for the first time after completing RSVP. Others recognized me from Instagram.
Throughout the weekend I’d hear someone pedal by shouting,
“Hi, Anita!”
It made me smile every single time.
Social media has created friendships I never expected. Sometimes I know people only by their profile pictures, yet somehow we’re cheering each other on while riding bicycles through western Washington.
That’s pretty amazing.
Becoming a Top Banana
One of the perks of being an STP Ambassador is getting to share in some of the traditions that make this ride so special.
This year, Cascade Bicycle Club gave each ambassador a stack of Top Banana stickers to hand out along the route. The award honors one of STP’s most beloved traditions—a wonderful couple in Napavine who have been baking and giving away homemade banana bread to hungry cyclists for more than 33 years. Their generosity has become part of the heart and soul of STP, and the Top Banana stickers are a fun way to recognize others who embody that same spirit.
I quickly discovered that handing out those stickers became one of the highlights of my weekend.
The first recipients were volunteers from a basketball team who had spent their day serving homemade cookies, fruit, and drinks to riders with infectious smiles.
Later, I presented Top Banana Awards to the breakfast crew at Bethel Church, where volunteers welcomed hundreds of sleepy cyclists before sunrise.
Connor, who coordinated the overnight accommodations at Bethel Church, earned one for making every rider feel right at home.
When I finally reached Napavine, it was especially meaningful to present a Top Banana Award to the legendary banana bread couple themselves. After more than three decades of kindness, it felt wonderful to thank them in person for a tradition that has brought smiles to generations of cyclists.
The bartender in Goble, who served up my favorite chicken wings on the route, earned one too. So did the massage therapist who somehow convinced my shoulders and lower back that life was worth living again after 158 miles on the bike.
And then there was Zack from Cascade Bicycle Club. I was thrilled to give him his very first Top Banana sticker because he has an amazing gift for making people smile. His enthusiasm is contagious, and he reminds me that laughter is just as important as hydration on a long ride.
Every sticker came with a story.
Every story came with a smile.
By the end of the weekend, I realized the Top Banana Awards weren’t really about bananas at all.
They were about gratitude.
Superhero Cape… or Bandana?
Every superhero needs a cape.
Mine happened to be an STP Ambassador bandana.
I draped it across my shoulders and immediately began posing for ridiculous photos, trying my best Zoolander impression.
Was it silly?
Absolutely.
Did I care?
Not one bit.
Sometimes growing older means finally giving yourself permission to be a little ridiculous.
The Magic Between the Miles
People often ask me what STP is like.
They’re expecting me to describe hills or roads.
Instead, I tell them about kids.
One family had stationed their children near a dangerous intersection just beyond Centralia, helping direct cyclists so nobody made a turn too quickly.
They weren’t official volunteers.
They simply wanted to help.
Those kids earned Top Banana stickers.
I tell people about neighborhoods where families set up folding tables filled with cookies, popsicles, water, watermelon, bananas, and encouragement.
Nobody asked them to.
They just showed up.
I tell them about the countless fist bumps exchanged while riding Highway 30.
About conversations that lasted only a mile before someone turned or sped away.
About hearing laughter echo across the road.
That’s STP.
The miles almost become secondary.
The Best Overnight Stay I’ve Ever Had
This year I stayed at Bethel Church for the first time.
I’ll be honest.
I don’t know why I waited so long.
Volunteers greeted me before I’d even removed my feet from my pedals.
They checked in my bike.
Inflated my air mattress.
Directed me exactly where to set up.
Fed us a wonderful lasagna dinner complete with collard greens (I usually don’t get enough vegetables on long rides).
It felt less like arriving at a church and more like coming home.
That evening I unfolded one of my favorite possessions—a quilt I made from old cycling jerseys and event T-shirts collected over years of adventures.
Every square tells a story.
Just like every mile.
The only complaint?
The air conditioning.
Let’s just say there were a lot of cyclists who unexpectedly spent the night pretending they were camping in Alaska.
Some Traditions Never Change
Every STP has traditions.
Mine begins in Goble.
There, a wonderful couple has spent decades handing out homemade banana bread to riders.
Seeing them has become as much a part of STP as crossing the finish line.
Just down the road sits another tradition.
Chicken wings.
Not just good chicken wings.
The best chicken wings.
This year they tasted even better because my lunch stop had served roast beef sandwiches that were frozen solid.
Not cold.
Frozen.
There comes a point when hauling around frozen meat on a bicycle simply stops making sense.
The sandwich lost that battle.
The wings won.
A Little Girl and a Gold Pom-Pom
Somewhere along Highway 30 I spotted something shimmering on the shoulder.
A gold pom-pom.
Naturally, I stopped.
Seconds later it was attached to my handlebars.
As I rode, I couldn’t stop laughing.
When I was a little girl, I decorated my bicycle with squirrel tails hanging from the handlebars.
Apparently, sixty-seven-year-old Anita has simply upgraded to streamers.
Some things never really change.
Crossing the Finish Line
Every STP finish is emotional.
Or so I thought.
This year was different.
Instead of tears…
I smiled.
Actually, I couldn’t stop smiling.
Maybe because I had spent the weekend slowing down enough to notice people instead of worrying about mileage.
Maybe because I’d laughed so much.
Maybe because I’d handed out Top Banana Awards to people who deserved a little recognition.
Or maybe because I realized something.
The finish line isn’t what makes STP special.
It’s everything that happens before you get there.
Will I Ride Again?
People have already started asking.
“So… are you doing STP next year?”
Honestly?
I don’t know.
Even 158 miles becomes more challenging each year, especially while hauling extra batteries, camera gear, and enough equipment to tell the story along the way.
But here’s what I do know.
If I’m not riding…
You’ll probably find me volunteering.
Standing at a rest stop.
Cheering riders across the finish line.
Or maybe handing out a few more Top Banana Awards.
Because after all these years, STP has become more than a bicycle ride.
It’s a community.
And communities have a way of reminding us that the journey is never really measured in miles.
It’s measured in moments.
