Day 13: Newport to Florence

Thursday, June 12 - one of the best days ever... not just of the trip, but of my life. It was super!

- I stopped to take a photograph of the most beautiful view ever. That is, until roughly 40 feet down the road, where that was the most beautiful view ever.

- I had a great talk with Jackie, one of the riders, about how I'm different on the road (chill) than in camp (stressed). I had a few breakthroughs about who I've been and things are so much easier now. Thanks Jackie from New York.

- Rode with Anna and Kamilla for part of the day. We stopped for lunch at Perpetua Bay for a hotdog and soda. I felt so free afterwards I left and launched down the big hill without my hydrapack. The wonderful thing about that is it wasn’t too hard to go back up it to get the bag.

- We hit sanddunes in Florence. The first ones were seen behind the Fred Meyer. More importantly, inside Fred Meyer were stocked speakers… speakers to which one can attach an ipod. (we're not allowed to wear headphones) Tunes…so Kamilla and I rode the 30 blocks with a heaven-sent tail wind to the bike shop to buy and attach a handlebar bag, and then back the 30 blocks into an evil headwind. Thank God for Kamilla, who knew what tools to use. She's super.

- We stayed at the United Baptist Church with its carpeted gym floor. The pastor’s daughter is in culinary school. She bought and prepared 12 lbs of tofu as part of a vegan / vegetarian / chicken Asian feast. At that dinner I learned that in the summertime the wind comes from the North. That was a good dinner. In the morning we had vegan breakfast wraps, gingerbread pancakes, eggs and other goodies. We keep meeting the most amazing people.

- Ben and I hid in a separate part of the church to avoid the snorers.

Day 12: Cape Lookout to Newport

Wednesday, June 11

Rubican’s Crossing. What a difference a day makes. The day started out misty, though not cloudy. The Oregon mists dissipated revealing a strange brightness and colour. It was the sun, you see. We hadn’t in a while. There were three long hills, but they were manageable. The only downer on the day was that my left knee started rubbing a bit. This was a direct result of the fact that not two days earlier I had boasted about my pain-free body. By the time we hit lunch at the 43 mile mark, it was swollen and hurt to peddle with. I gorged on a couple of wraps and chocolate, put my bike on the back of the van and spent the last 20 miles in it. We were looking for a small bike shop where the nice staff were apparently going to show us to a patch of a grass they knew where we could pitch our tents. What we found was a brand-new, large and bright bike shop run by a lovely couple and surrounded by its many regulars. The Newport bike shop – owned by Elliot and Daniella and their son - has a lounge with a TV and wireless internet, to say nothing of the awesome inventory. Kamilla got her bike fixed and everyone who wanted it had a chance to get a coffee. The bike club then led us through the touristy streets of Newport – which we completely took over - to our campsite: a small marina outside of town. Dinner, pasta paid for and prepared by the bike club, was waiting for us. The best part of it was that we had an informal presentation about microcredit and at least half a dozen riders spontaneously contributed. Our hosts didn’t really know who we were or what we’re riding for, only that we are a bunch of young cyclists looking for a place to stay. They learned about microcredit, and we learned about blind generosity. That was a good meal. Oh, and it didn’t rain.

Dinner was provided by the bike club from Newport Bikes, but our camping was donated by a friend of theirs. The owner of the marina, Dion, had been telling Daniella how he wants to give back to society, to do something to help. She got the email from Global Agents for Change the next day and called him up. He offered us free camping on his land, unlimited use of the computer in his store, the use of his showers, and best of all, the use of his inventory. When the stars came out a bunch of us – all over 21, of course – went down to the dock to listen to the water and try several of Oregon’s microbrews. I really like the Porter. Dion came down and talked to us about the Orcas and Seals that live in the bay, while Isaac – under 21 so a tactful distance away – played his clarinet on the dock while the water rushed below it. After some good beer, conversation and music, I quietly escaped back to the tent and crawled into bed. Natalie joined me a short time thereafter and we (almost) finished Crash. The computer died again just before the end, but she got the gist of it. I slept very that night.

Day 11: Day off in Cape Lookout

Tuesday, June 10

More rain and cold. I missed half of it, though, as I slept until almost noon, for a record-breaking session of 14 hours of sleep. The first group to borrow the van for a laundry trip into town had assembled and was preparing to go. They didn’t return for five hours, during which time we got kicked out of the meeting hall. Suddenly my egalitarian sentiments waned and the $66 for a deluxe cabin with a power outlet for my computer looked tempting. Natalie and I lay curled up in our sleeping bags in the damp tent waiting for the others to return with the van and a promise of a trip into town for us as well. We huddled around my computer to watch Crash, until the battery died, which on my ancient machine took about 25 minutes. The van eventually did return, however, and we loaded up group two – though some had to stay behind – thanks Bronwyn – to head into the tiny town of Tillamook. While most had laundry to do, I was still relatively dry from my escape to the Holiday Inn. I went straight to Safeway for some hot (and terrible) Chinese food and a coffee, then over to the public library to poach the wi-fi. I had about 45 minutes to reply to emails and try to write. I emailed John asking if he’d still love me if I came home. Then it was back in the van (loaded with chocolate) to head back to camp.

When John emailed me back a couple of days later, he had this advice that he got from his father: “Life can be so much fun if you let it.”

Day 10: Nahelem Bay to Cape Lookout State Park

Monday June 9

65.5 miles

John left and took the sunshine. We woke up to the rain, and left in two groups to a breakfast paid for by Father Paul. As the first group sat down, the heavens opened and the rain became a downpour. I donned my new booties and helmet cover and slogged it out to Tillamook, where we hid from the deluge for a couple of hours in the Tillamook Cheese Factory. Most ate immoral amounts of ice cream; I ate an offensively large sorbet sundae. There was also cheese. A lot of cheese. People had grilled cheese sandwiches and clam chowder. IT was pretty much a dairy free for all, which was great for the people who aren’t lactarded or vegan…. Which is a fair bunch of the group. You can also go up to the second floor of the factory and look through glass windows onto the factory floor to watch the Oompalumpas cut and wrap the cheese. We chatted with the kind lady with the feathered bangs at the Chamber of Commerce. She had computers with internet that we traded off until closing like a 4 x 100 relay. I stopped at the bike shop in town to buy a front light and then popped across the road to get a bottle of Islay scotch for $23. The price of booze alone might be enough to get me to move to the States. After getting over the fact that we were camping in the rain again and had to spend our day off in a rainy campsite, we got on our bikes to head to bed. Whiskey Creek road was unexpectedly picturesque with lovely homes and rolling hills, save for the occasional road-side clearcut. After getting the van and trailer wedged in a tight parking lot and nearly getting blown into the ocean at our beach-front campsite, Karen and Jackie were wonderful and negotiated the use of the meeting hall for the night. It provided a dry place to park our bikes and store our bags, if not to sleep. It also boasted a stove and a dangerously powerful heater. I ran over to the campsite to lay out my bag and the heavens opened again. I swore at God, then turned back to lay the bag in front of said heater to dry. Again.

Day 9: Seaside to Nahelem Bay

Sunday June 8

24 miles, though I rode it in John's van, affectionately called Gerty (short for Gertrude). We had the best coffee ever at Cannon Beach, where we checked out local birds and sea life. It was the first sunny day since we left Vancouver and a perfect (and short) day to skip the ride.

We camped at Nahelem Bay that night. The tragedy of saying goodbye to our men was somewhat alieviated by the fact that we met the greatest Iranian couple. Nassim and Jaffar left Iran for the first time in their lives to bike around the world planting trees and talking about peace. They gave us a presentation about Iran on a sheet strung up between trees in the campground. More about them later, as we've seen them on and off ever since and they're riding with us now until San Fran. Yummy Iranian food and great conversation. I like them. A lot.

Day 8: Bay Centre, WA to Seaside, OR

Saturday, June 7

64.5 miles (103 km)

We left Washington and entered Oregon, a border we hoped would separate us from our first state and the rain. It did not. It rained on and off all day, but was mostly cloudy, which was a nice break from the downpour. The crossing into state #2 was pretty impressive. After a brief snack break on the WA side, we crossed a 0.9 mile long (just under 1 and a half km) bridge to Astoria, Oregon. Astoria is a pretty great little town for many reasons, not the least of which is that it's where The Goonies was filmed. It's a colourful coastal town with three bike shops and the best cafe ever. As we'd ridden 40 miles to town, the Blue Sorcerer bakery gave us 40% off our lunch. We gorged. They observe the 100 mile rule (every ingredient from within 100 miles, and are biker-friendly). The food also tasted divine.

We sort of took over the place though, and the local fifty-something guy at the table beside me looked a bit overwhelmed. I thought he might be a fisherman, and I suspected he was annoyed with the large and loud group in the green jerseys. Natalie started chatting with this man, Dave Crane from Coos Bay. He asked about microcredit and GAFC. As he left he handed her $20. Natalie mentioned where he was from, a place where we hadn't set up accommodation yet. Emma ran after Dave Crane and his friend, Garth. Garth offered us a place to stay in nearby Coquille at his friend Becky’s place. People are unexpectedly accommodating and curious and generally super.

We left lunch to find a great bike shop that lent us their air blower to clean off our bikes. I also got a pair of riding glasses, as my Ray Bans were getting thrashed with all the rain and grit from passing semis. The sun came out and we biked along a paved bike route and then smaller road suggested by the locals almost all the way into Seaside. I had someone waiting for me there. I biked quickly.

Our small community centre in Seaside turned out to be a large youth centre, complete with flat-screen TV, yoga mats, a pool, hot tub and plenty of room to spread out. I skipped the pool in favor of a shower and waited impatiently for John and Natalie's boyfriend, Mark, to show up. Natalie was more nervous than a five-year old before Christmas, standing at the window staring down the road, biting her nails.

It turns out the guys got stuck at Peace Arch so drove to another crossing and were about three hours behind schedule. I'd given them the community centre address, so decided to hang out in the empty lot between the that and the youth centre in case they rocked up to an empty building. The empty lot, it turns out, was not empty. A group of Girl Scouts were making Smoores. After explaining the van I was looking for, I hung out with them for about half an hour, talking about school and boys and camping. At one point, a particularly enthusiastic girl was telling me an animated story about something-or-other when another of the girls said, "is that them?" Without letting little girl #1 finish her sentence, I turned around and ran away from her, ipod shuffle trailing in the dirt as I launched across the road and into the opening door of John's van. It was a very good think John was driving and not Mark. Awkward.

Mark did the ride last year, so he chatted with some of this year's riders while John changed my brake pads on the sidewalk before the four of us took off. Seaside was the perfect place to meet up... on the Pacific, it's a nice little tourist town. We walked along the beach and ate seafood and caught up. It was nice.

I'm pretty sure we weren't missed as the other riders took full advantage of the pool and hot tub.

Day 7: McLeary to Bay Centre and it’s still pissing.

About 60 miles (100 km).

We finally saw the coast today, though in gray glimpses. It started off wet and windy, but cleared up for the end of the day. We didn't know how long the ride was as our directions had distances as specific as "far" and "shorter." Most stretches lent towards the former. There were also hills. The end of the day was tiring, but scenic along a windy flat road into a headwind. The road itself is edged with huge piles of seashells from the fishing industry in the town. We stayed in the tiny United Methodist Church, literally sleeping on the pews. The church advertised a presentation of ours, which I missed entirely as I was so far behind the lead.

It was great to arrive, though, as we had a hose to wash the mud off our bikes and cell phone reception. I called John (the boyfriend). It was a Friday. He asked if I might be interested in a Saturday night dinner date.... other riders are still making fun of me for my reaction. I could have slept in a puddle that night with a big smile on my face. :) He promised to collect any other Vancouver-area boyfriends and some raingear and drive down to meet us in Seaside, Oregon. Woo hoo! We had a long and rather painful group conversation about consensus and whether we should have to come to consensus about group decisions and which ones should require consensus and whether we had consensus about the consensus conversation. I'm not sure what we agreed on. My suspicion that benevolent dictatorships are the only efficient forms of government strengthened. We were all super tired, but I had that stupid grin on my face to get me through it.

I woke up the next morning - still smiling - to a breakfast prepared by the lovely women of the church, which included local Elk sausage and three kinds of breakfast casserole, one meat, one vegetarian and one vegan. We were duly impressed. The best part of Bay Center, though, has to be the two-and-a-half year old boys ripping around on their battery powered ATVs. Hilarious. People rock.

Day 6: Seattle to McLeary

Thursday, June 5
55 miles for the group – about 20 for me.

I felt pretty fabulous after my day off, or so I thought. On the ferry out of Seattle I ate some of the leftovers from my lunch with Maddog, the other halibut cheek. I'm not sure it was the food, but by the time we biked to brunch (kindly paid for by Ben's cousin) the world was a fuzzy place. By the end of brunch, it was decided I shoulld get in the van. We're all pretty proficient at snot rockets while riding, but have yet to master actually throwing up on the road. It was a reprieve, as it rained. Again. A lot. So wet!

According to Natalie and the other riders, the Bayfield Road was beautiful, even though it was up and down over and over and over again. As a support van, we didn't even stop to set up lunch as there was too much rain. The lovely and helpful Nicole just handed PB and J sandwiches out the side door as riders came past.

Sonia and Sean finished first. Sonia is a machine. Sean was born in 1990.

(Scene at the apt in Seattle... Sean is the one under the tarp.)

Day 5: Day off in Seattle

Wednesday, June 4

Maddog Erwin came to pick me up from the townhouse north of the city where I crashed. This was especially great of him as he lives south. It took him a while. We went to Pike Place MArket for people watching and a fabulous French lunch. After that he took me to his spcious and dry home where he and his fabulous wife, Karen, let me do email, watch the news, eat a DELICIOUS dinner complete with great conversation and rare tequilla. The best part... instead of driving me back to the hardwood floor, Maddog gave me earplugs, and eye cover and showed me to the guest bedroom which boats the most comfortable bed ever! The retired pilot got up at 4am to drive me back. I really dig Maddog.

Day 4: Stanwood to Seattle

Shawn miscalculated. Keeping in mind that the longest bike ride I had ever done before this trip was about 30 klometres, we rode 77 MILES. It took just under 7 hours of actual peddling. It pissed the whole way. We basically swam to Seattle, into our accomodation, a one-bedroom apartment. It was wet and stinky. At ten pm we learned the other apartment was 60 blocks away, so Natalie and I climbed on our wet bikes in our wet shoes to peddle up the hill to the hardwood floor we would call home that night.

There is actually a good story in all this. It rained so hard it was fun. When it started raining up, I laughed. Perhaps it was the fatigue. I will write more about this later.....

Day 3: Bellingham to Stanwood

Today: 4:00:23 (time of actual peddling); 50.68 miles / 80.09 km; max speed 30.2 miles/ hour

Total Trip (from Grandview Park, Vancouver): 5:27:36 (time); 119.08 miles / 190.53 km; average speed 11.7 m/hr; max speed 36.32 m/hr; average cadence 53

A note... I'm catching up on these blogs long after the fact, so some will be short and sweet:

After our itchy but hilarious night in Bellingham, we got up, had some bagels and after a lot of standing around followed Kyle and Tom from the Hub through a gorgeous bike route, heading south. The path was nice, and the bakery dangerously delicious, but the wind was evil. We biked into a headwind, riding in our lowest gears for hours. We learned to draft. Quickly. The entire road was not flat, windy farmland, though; we got our first taste of how gorgeous biking can be, climbing up and cruising along Chuckanut Drive. The road is windy and high, looking into a tall forest overlooking the ocean. It was a long, but mostly beautiful ride to Stanwood United Methodist Church. One of the best parts was catching the end of the tulip season in La Conner... the photos are for you, mom and dad.



Pastor John presides over a large church, which includes such prayerful items as a pool table and foosball. It also has a HUGE kitchen, which was convenient as a bunch of congregants made us a massive dinner and ate it with us. Our fearless ride leaders, Emma and Jess, gave a presentation about GAFC and microcredit. It was a valiant effort, but we stopped using the PowerPoint after that. Among the cooks were 'Sir Robert' and his son Bob. Anna chatted up Robert for over an hour, getting a brief history of the entire area. She also convinced him to make us breakfast. He and Bob were back int eh kitchen at 5:30am cooking up a mountain of waffles, sausages and eggs. They have business cards that read "at your service." They said if we get lost anywhere between Stanwood and Oregon to call. Anna fell in love with Robert (sorry Colin).



The church also has a library, which was helpful for Shawn Smith as he planned our route to Seattle the next day, apparently a trip just under 60 miles. . . .

Day 2: White Rock to Bellingham

Sunday, June 01, 2008

Today: 2:26:34 (time of actual peddling); 30.9 miles / 49.44 km

Total Trip (from Grandview Park, Vancouver): 5:27:36 (time); 68.4 miles / 109.44 km; average speed 11 m/hr; max speed 36.32 m/hr; average cadence 53

A day can change everything.

Yesterday all I could see were miles of painful and frustrating cycling made worse by the facts that I’m not allowed to listen to music while I ride and I miss my boyfriend. Today the blinders are off. I see more. There are some seriously cool people on this trip, and by being on it, I’ve met so many more already. On my way to Starbucks to steal the wireless internet and email said boyfriend, I ran into a group of people on the street corner handing out lovely delicious, free, vegan food. They apparently do this every Sunday. I thought to myself, if I can’t grab the free grub while biking to Mexico for charity, when can I? So instead of walking past the strange, happy hippies, I stopped to chat. While eating some gorgeous guacamole we talked microcredit. Someone else on the street corner eating the free food came over to talk. His name is Willow. Willow is a surfer-type – shaggy blond hair and a tanned winded face with a relaxed attitude and a guitar strapped around his chest – and also an amateur film maker. He has taught himself how to shoot and edit. He also makes music. Willow’s outside right now interviewing Adam. He’s going to make a video for us and post it on youTube. I think that’s pretty great.

While Willow films, our ride leader, Emma, is showing our hosts her skills on a uni-cycle while the cooks brew up a second batch of ‘bean mush’ on the BBQ and a few neighbourhood kids rip around on their mountain bikes. I think someone’s trying to figure out what to do about the dishes. The sun is setting and the mosquitoes are coming out, which should drive a few of us who are over 21 to the nearest pub. I hear this town is great for coffee and beer. Kyle, the awesome guy who runs the Hub – our host organization for the evening – made me one of the best americanos of my life when I rolled in. I think it only thorough that I find out if he’s also right about the beer.

I’m sitting in the office of The Hub. Kyle kindly cleared a space on the desk for my computer. On it, though pushed to the edges, are dozens of random items, from a bike tools and henna paste to a pamphlet titled “fighting for our lives: an anarchist primer.” The walls are covered in pinned-up postcards, photos, flags and sketches. The office itself is crammed with boxes and loose stuff, and it’s the best spot to sleep tonight. There has already been some tension about who’s going to get to sleep on the floor, as the rest have to find space on the concrete floor of the bike shop. Glamorous, this is not. But it is fun.

Today we biked from South Surrey to the border where we played some fun photography games under the Peach Arch: snakes in a blender produced some especially good shots. We then rode the 25 miles or so to Bellingham, largely along the quiet country roads of Whatcom County. There’s something particularly painful about knowing you are only going 7 miles and hour and your destination is Mexico. That said, there’s something quiet and magical about cycling; you see things on a bike you’d never see in a car. On a bike you’re on the shoulder of the road and can peek over bridges to see the lily pads in a pond or the subtle interaction between two old friends as they do yard work or appreciate the dilapidated barn that’s quietly sinking into a field of tall grass and dandelions. The smells are great too. It might not be quite so idyllic on the 101, but today was warm bordering on muggy; the air was soft. It smelled of sun on fruit bushes and sometimes of cut grass. When I didn’t want to throw up or cry, it was really quite nice.

Tomorrow we get up and, after assessing how many mossie bites each of us has, head out for I’m not quite sure where. It’s apparently only about 35 miles away. I assume south. Right now most of the riders are in the next room blasting club music and using bike lights to create a dance hall. It’s bouncing (if a little hilarious.)

The Hub

360-255-2072 * thehub@openaccess.org * 903 (1/2) North State Road, Bellingham * Community Bike Shop and Non-profit Cooperative * Committed to providing a safe, low-cost bicycle service to the community * the Hub offers beautiful refurbished bicycles, used parts (and some new) and a full service shop for rent (and the full service, too) *

Willow Jon Collamer

Truth Media * Artist Collective * Live Multimedia * jcollaamer@hotmail.com * to see his videos, search on youTube johnyscomingtotown.

Day 1: Pledge Ride – Art Gallery to Grandview Park to White Rock (South Surrey)

Saturday, May 31

37.5 miles / 60 km (including some interesting detours)

I’m writing the day after, so here are some memorable points:

- Dan Burritt from CKNW saying he interviewed “fire pants.” (Emma has cycling shorts with flames.)

- Figuring out you don’t have to ride on Expo Blvd to get to the Adanac bike route… you can stay on the pretty sea wall. J

- The Bicyclettes doing a rock burlesque show (though with more clothes) in the park with bike tires.

- Ilan standing at the top of the hill beside a right-turn lane, pointing right and announcing “Mexico that way.”

- Jessica – not any of the riders but Emilie’s roommate – coming on the ride on a huge and inefficient mountain bike with flat peddles, even though she’s never biked before. John showed her how to change her gears. When Robyn Smith (www.moveo.ca) had to jump on the Skytrain, Jessica kept peddling instead of taking the out. She made it all the way.

- A lot of gaping mouths, and confused faces as 40-odd people in green shirts biked past, yelling “We’re biking to Mexico.”

- Asking little kids at a lemonaid stand for directions.

- Taking a group photo (with about six of us) on the Putello Bridge, beside a discarded / dislodged bumper, hubcap and random metal knob thingy that looks like if fell of an F360. It might be one of the safer bridges we’ll go over.

- The last ten minutes hurt. I had doubts. I had to say goodbye to my boyfriend, John. I had serious doubts. Then we got to the church and the van and trailer weren’t there with our stuff. This happened because GAFC could only pick it up the day before. We could only pick it up the day before because we bought it from a preschool. We couldn’t take possession until the preschoolers had been dropped off after school, around 3pm Friday.

o It has a bear and a honey pot painted on the side with the following words: Honey Tree – Pre-School * Day Care * After School Care * I think it’s appropriate that it’s being driven my Shawn’s mom. We have our very own after-school care van and mommy.

- We finally crawled into our sleeping bags on the floor of the gymnasium of Peace Portal Church. This, after a laughing circle, some basketball and more than a couple of naps. You’ll have to take my word that the circle and game happened…. I was passed out, hidden behind the curtain on the stage.

Hat Over the Wall

There’s an Irish parable about two old guys who need to get over a high, brick wall. They try to get around it, dig under it, and climb over it, all to no avail. Finally they look at each other and, without saying a word, throw their hats over the wall at the same time. Now they have to get over the wall. This ride is like that for me: I don’t know how I’ll do it, and I’m not entirely clear what possessed me to commit to something so entirely irrational in the first place, but I’ll figure it out. Riding to Mexico: my hat over the wall adventure.

The ride is a fundraiser for microfinance: small loans to entrepreneurs in developing countries. The idea is simple. If you give small, trust-based loans to people who were previously considered ‘unbankable’, they’ll pull themselves out of poverty. They’ll pull their families and countries out as well. It stops modern-day slavery in the form of usurious money-lenders. It empowers women, and it works. Kiva.org is a popular way for people to donate money to microfinance institutions: of its 6.7 million dollars in loans whose terms have ended, the default rate is 0.3%. Poor people pay back the money because they have no choice: this is their only chance to break the cycle.

I spent last year in Southern Africa as a media trainer, producing documentaries about primary education and rural HIV testing. In my travels I saw perfectly capable and able-bodied mothers standing on the side of the road waiting for an aid truck, for the chance of a bag of rice. I realized these women are neither stupid nor lazy, that they are no less human than I am. Then I met Gogo Lamazia. (Gogo means grandmother.) She has lost her four daughters to AIDS and her son – also HIV positive – has left her. She’s old and arthritic and is raising 3 grandsons in a decaying stick hut. She showed me the vegetables she’s trying to grow, but every time something breaks the surface the local goats eat her efforts. If she could grow the food she could feed the boys and even sell the surplus at the local market. All she needs is a fence. That’s about a ten-dollar loan.

So I’m riding to Mexico. I’ll join about 25 other crazy people to cycle six days a week for seven weeks from here to Tijuana, stopping along the way to raise money and awareness for microfinance. We’ll ride along the west-coast highway an average of 80 – 130 kilometres a day. Here’s the thing, though: I’m not so much a cyclist. I’ve never even really been a terribly fit person. I bought my bike for the ride a few weeks ago… it’s the first bike I’ve ever owned without a kick stand. Clearly, I needed some help.

It dawned on me early on that my gym, Studeo 55, is the place I should turn. Everyone always seems so happy and supportive of one another; clients and trainers are serious about what they’re up to without being intimidating or competitive. It really feels like a community. When I signed up for the ride, Studeo was the natural place to turn for help. Help came, and a lot of it. Darren has given me everything from my body fat ratio (not going in print) to a specific schedule of resistance and cycling workouts from the day I started with him until the day I leave. Some days I like that schedule more than others, but I’m sticking to it (for the most part). The results are more inspiring to me than the ride itself, now.

Because of my training, I am the fittest I’ve ever been. I am happier. I have more energy. I have a sense of accomplishment everyday. Most importantly, however, I now relate to myself and others as someone who is true to her word.

http://studeo55.ca/

The Basic Details

The Ride to Break the Cycle: "This epic 7 week journey departs May 31st, 2008, covering 3000 kilometres along the stunning Pacific Coast from Vancouver, Canada to Tijuana, Mexico. Join a mobile community of 20 passionate youth making an unmistakable personal statement against poverty."

Well, that's what the website says. With the support of Studeo 55 and numerous individual donors, I'll climb on my very new bike in a few weeks to peddle a ridiculous distance.

The basic details are these:

• Vancouver, BC to Tijuana, Mexico = 3000 kilometres
• 7 weeks
• Sleeping in schools, community centres, churches and campsites
• Community events, presentations and leadership training en route
• 25 Riders
• One support vehicle

Project Purpose: "To provide a unique leadership experience for youth while raising funds and awareness for microcredit initiatives. (GAFC)"

• All donations to Global Agents for Change's Microcredit Fund are distributed to individual entrepreneurs utilizing Kiva, our partner organization. http://kiva.org/

• Donations contributed to the microcredit fund are perpetually re-lent to different entrepreneurs in need, and Global Agents for Change members control the funds at all times.

To see our route, to donate, or to find out more about the ride and GAFC, go to the list of links to the right of this page.

Any questions asked on this blog will be answered on this blog, from something as mundane as the model of my bike helmet to as crucial a subject as whether the Brazilian waxing was a good idea. Ask away....