Tuesday, July 1, 2008

To our readers: A Rally Call

Dear friends, families, and supporters:

First, allow us to give you a glimpse into the ethos that provides the foundation for this trip. To do so requires us to describe in a little more detail what the average day has been like so far:
The sun rises at 4:45am, and the sky is usually spectacular. We roll over and throw our sleeping bags off of us, trying to get a couple more hours of sleep before the heat and the bright day demand that we also rise. We step outside of the tent and look first for a sign of which direction the wind is blowing. During days on the prairies, when the scenery seems to be a looping tape of the same fields over and over again, the only thing you mind can really focus on besides your spinning legs is whether the wind is helping you or hindering you, or threatening to blow you into traffic. Within an hour, we are on our bikes. Our minds are busy recalling dreams from the night before, reciting the dialogue of funny confronation with interesting characters the day before, singing the tune of a catchy song, and wondering if our
butts are going to last another 2,400 miles. calculating how far until the next settlement and whether our water supply will last. Every once and a while, we feel hungry, and stop to fix a PB&J sandwich (without question THE solution sandwich to any bout of fatigue or famine). We don't talk much while on the bikes; I am usually out of breath in trying to keep up with Jason, and the passing semi-trucks and hard winds make it impossible to carry on a conversation at anything less than a shout. So we gather conversation points as we ride, and while on breaks we share where our minds have wandered to during the last stretch of riding. We talk often, perhaps too much, of home, of old friends, of lost memories and people we wish we could see again; a trip like this, despite the constantly new scenery and faces, leads you only back to what and whom you left.
To cope with the monotony of Saskatchewan, we tend to set interim goals for ourselves (gotta make it to Martlach by 5, hope to get on the other side of Regina by 3, etc.). The last 20km of each day tend to be the toughest, mentally as well as physically, simply because the anticipation of food and sleep become overwhelming by 7.30 pm.
8-12 hours of riding a day tends to send your thoughts in interesting directions; mine often explores which mindsets are the best to adopt to make it through long days: do I concentrate on the "now," this kilometer alone, or do I try to frame the present within the scope of the day's 100 or so miles? Or, do I try to adopt a mindset that would sustain me until Day 39 or 40, a way of thinking that paces myself to the end of the entire trip? Or, do I let my mind float, feeling what it wants to feel, whether it be stubborn fatigue or excited elation, cynical pessmism or adrenaline-fueled optimism? What kind and extent of self-discipline should I use to make this trip a success? And then, it is impossible not to remind yourself that it is only day 14; what will my thoughts be like on Day 15? Day 20? 30? 39?

Luckily, for us, we love cycling. It has given us meaning before, and it has continued to be fulfilling in and of itself each day of this trip. We really are living a dream, a dream we have both shared passionately since our first year out of high school. We are cycling across a country - WOW! - we never thought we'd ACTUALLY do this. But whoa, here we are. Concentrating simply on our spinning legs, the maintenance of rythm, the maximization of efficiency, the invigorating sensation of easily earned speed, can sustain us for most of the demands of this trip.

"Most" is the key word here. This trip has been designed - this entire dream has been concieved - in such a way that merely finishing a century-a-day of riding for 40 days is not enough to call the trip a success. Yes, we certainly feel a sense of accomplishment when we reach our destination-town each night. We are proud of what we have done so far, and we will be proud of what we will have done once we reach the east coast. But the ambition, audacity and idealism of this trip does not stop at the 4,000 miles in 40 days. It also includes, of course, the building of a school in the Guatemalan village of Chacaya.

If we reach the east coast and we have not achieved our fundraising goal, we will be unable to justify the last 40 days of riding.


The 2 days in which we rode 295 miles were eye-opening for us. It was the most demanding stretch of riding the two of us have ever endured. When we reached Swift Current at the end of that 2-day stretch, we did not feel the sense of achievement that so often accompanies a hard day's ride. We felt, well, empty. And it was not just the energy we lost in the process. It was having done so much only to question what we are actually achieving. We may be getting closer to the east coast, but we don't see ourselves getting closer to our fundraising goal.

This trip is demanding. Our deep passion for cycling alone will not sustain us to the Atlantic coast; what we need to know at the end of the day is that we are not just spinning our wheels. We want that school built.

So many of you reading this have already given out of your own pocket to get us halfway to our fundraising goal and nearly halfway across Canada. We can't thank you enough for that. What we need is more people, more open ears, more open minds to join us in believing that passion is the first step in mending a fractured world. The strength of our project is that people only have to do a little to make a world of difference in the lives of the Guatemalans in Chacaya. $10,000 more will provide an education for generations of children to come.

Tell more people about Chacaya, about our ride, about what we need. Refer people to our website, our blog, the PEGPartners website. Try to tell them the idea behind what we are doing, how cycling across Canada to build this Guatemalan school somehow makes sense. Ask your churches, your rotary clubs, your newspapers, your neighborhood newsletters, your schools, your youth groups, your cycling buddies, your favorite restaurant, your neighbor to help. The communities we know and love CAN change the community of Chacaya.

As David LaMotte says at each of his concerts, you are changing the world whether you like it or not. Get in to it. Become intentional in how you change. Invite others to do the same.

Sorry to become so melodramatic, but hey, my butt hurts, and the fact is that we're in this now, the ride of a lifetime.
Tell others to join us!

Hopefully,
Eric

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