I find myself in Anchorage, Alaska reflecting back upon 70 days of cycling, each packed with a set of unique experiences and memories. Oh what a whirl-wind summer it has been! A summer I am terribly sad to see come to a close. Soon I will be sitting in a class-room once more, diligently studying biochemistry, and my journey across North America for cancer will be but a memory. As I was telling Cathy Forester, my gracious host here in Anchorage, ten years from now it is not unlikely that something or someone will remind me of a day on this trip that is lost and buried in the thousands of memories from summer 2004. I am only now beginning to process our adventure on a conscious level, in contrast to my "in the moment" thinking of the past two and a half months. We are all a little crazy and I venture to say better for it. 4000+ miles on a road bike through North America with 20 very different individuals changes one's mental constitution. It widens your perspective, pushing the limits of your vision outward. This is something that perhaps only journeying through books or conversations could hope to duplicate, but with the advantage of stunning picture memories to be stored along with new thoughts. Four to thirteen hours of cycling-induced endorphin highs brings a type of euphoria that perhaps resonates only with the touring cyclist. Or perhaps with anyone undertaking a journey that is both physical and mental in nature. There were many times this summer that I rode singing my heart out and grinning ear to ear screaming to the empty rode ahead that I didn't want be anywhere else in the world. I am already starting to miss the life-style.

I was looking out across the ocean today on a drive to the world's northern most rainforest and (for perhaps the thousandth time this summer) I felt lucky to be alive, young, and to have been give such an amazing opportunity to see the land and meet the people of North America. I am still dumbstruck by the generosity of so many strangers we've met along the way. I feel indebted and thankful to a degree I will never be able to articulate. We set out to make a difference in people's lives and I find myself changed forever by the people I've met. I could never repay all those wonderful people for the gifts they have given me throughout the summer. I send out a big thanks to all of our hosts, my sponsors, my loved ones, my team, and to all the strangers who have opened their hearts to a group of young people from Texas. Trust does not come easy in a world with so many disheartening problems. People are imperfect and they will let you down, at least from time to time. I came into this trip lacking the trust I needed to see past the cynicism that comes from watching the news, reading the paper, and concentrating on humanity's shortcomings. I am proud to say that I am not the person I was when I left Austin, Texas June 1st. I have a lot of hope for the future of our country and for my small place in the world. I am inspired by the people I've met to reach out and help people in need. Not just people battling cancer. I am learning to spend energy understanding and learning rather than judging. I am sorry to say I'm a slow learner in this area but my distrust is slowly melting and I am seeing the world in a different light. Distrust and cynicism take valuable energy away from people who can contribute to making the world a more comfortable place for us all to live in. It only takes one look into the eyes of someone undergoing chemotherapy or losing someone to cancer to convince you that there is too much work to be done to get bogged down with cynicism. I am not saying that such stagnation is completely avoidable. I merely point to the urgency of problems like cancer... and distrust for that matter.

On the morning of our last ride we all verbalized our reasons for initially taking this trip. I believe everyone's reasons began with loss. I empathize with the riders and people we've met that have lost a loved one to cancer. This trip wouldn't have meant nearly as much to me if it weren't for the cause. I feel proud of what we've done. I feel it's been a summer well spent. A summer worth sacrificing summer income and time with friends at home. Yes the stories we've heard and the suffering we've seen would break your heart as it's broken mine. That said, it is this same suffering that kept me going when I didn't have the energy to ride for myself. It is true that some of my reasons for doing this trip were selfish. I wanted to see Glacier and the Rocky Mountains. But when you have a 110 mile day in front of you over grueling terrain and you don't want to ride for yourself, you need another reason. Sure some people might ride to Alaska just for fun, but not me. I don't particularly enjoy biking believe it or not. Well- I guess I'm learning to like it. My reasons for this trip were complex and had very little to do with biking. I had never been on a rode bike when I signed up. While my reasons for doing the trip were not completely cancer related, it is fighting for this cause that kept me going. We started a morning tradition of dedicating our ride to someone with cancer shortly after we met up with Sierra. It is that tradition that kept me on the bike during the last week of riding. I'm not gunna lie, I was a little tired by day 65. There were three days in a row that I got to mile 60 or so and just looked at my bike for over and hour before I got back on to complete the ride. I got back on because of our dedications and most importantly the people we met that said "thank you" and "whatever you do, just keep pedaling." It is the words of strangers that kept me out of our van.

My legs and my mind are both exhausted but I feel refreshed and somewhat new. I am somewhat afraid that I will just collapse after a grueling seven day (give or take a few) drive back to Austin with our van. Worst comes to worst I'll have to sleep for four days preceding school and then start again, this semester with a brand new perspective and a handful of new friends by my side. I have genuinely enjoyed getting to know they members of Texas 4000. As my grandparents aptly pointed out, no one but the 40+ of us will know just what it was like to ride a bike to Alaska for cancer. I have the utmost respect of every individual on this team and it has been a joy to share such an amazing experience with such a diverse group. You can't take everyone with you when you change trajectories in life and like with many shared experiences, we will now go our separate ways. However, I take with me the thousands of memories from the Rocky Team and the short time we spend with Sierra.

Speaking of going our separate ways, it was quite a spectacle to see Texas 4000 ride into Anchorage in a 40 person pace-line, share a last dinner together, and then disperse. Some left on planes, some with families, some in rental cars, and some (who will for the time remain anonymous) hitch-hiking down the road- each taking with them a set of similar memories. It really was something. I think it felt surreal to most and anti-climactic many, myself included. After all, the journey is the destination and Anchorage... well I guess it's just a cool place to end and awesome summer.

Thanks for the memories!

Love Laura