There's Gotta Be More to That Story.

We pulled enough metal folding chairs into a circle and took our seats for the final team meeting of Ride:Well South 2010. This was our debriefing, at least it was supposed to be. Instead, as one after another suggested working through the events of the past two months would take at least as long. When I heard this suggestion, I couldn't help but wonder what there was to process. I didn't say anything. I couldn't put my thoughts into words. But, I knew what those thoughts were. I thought.

This was our last weekend. 8 weeks. 3,000 miles. Many heartaches. Many triumphs. A lot of big money raised for clean water. And this was it. I was careful to get my goodbyes in, wrapping up summer long conversations, and securing promises from my team mates that we would be friends for life. I walked slowly and took great pauses, framing the moment as if it was the last time I would see these friends of mine. Despite my best effort to take it all in, Monday morning arrived like a call from a collections agency: unwanted but refusing to be ignored.

Adam left at midnight with friends. Crystal and Kate were driven to the airport at 6. Anne, Ty and Jay rode along to pick up their rental cars. At 8, Ty and Jay took off. A van load including Chris,Jacob, Erin, Dustin, Melissa, Brian, and Karl left. That was the last time I saw the Mother Falcon. With each departing cyclist, we made a tunnel for the car to pass through. It was celebration; it was somber. Ian waited on his family. Aaron was getting a ride to the airport from Tristan, Matt and Josh. At 10, Anne said "so long", got into a tiny rental,and rode away. That was the last tunnel I helped make.

I saw a black Altima turn into a front parking space just after Anne had gone. "That's my ride" I told them and went out to meet Donna. The guys helped me load my things. I shook hands and said my see-ya-laters. Then squeezed in the back seat behind Columbus, my bike. I looked out the back window until we turned out of the parking lot. It began to sink in, this feeling, it was over. I looked ahead and put my camera down for the first time in weeks. After a fast-paced summer, the sudden stop after was jarring.

I spent the next few days with my family in Myrtle Beach. Then my parents and brother returned to Alabama and I returned with Donna and her mom to Tennessee. Our life had revolved around Ride:Well Tour since I signed up in November and now, well, that was the question. What now? I had a lot to process. In the midst of and in the aftermath of hysteria, it is difficult to make sense of anything. Like, when we were robbed 2 years ago, Donna and I had two different descriptions of our attackers and their vehicles. It was the same with this except without the trauma.

I knew that once I was home the events of summer would feel like they had never happened. That last night when we were at Sonic, Referencing Lost, I asked them, "months from now when my therapist tells me none of you existed, what should I say to her?" I hardly got a response, which I considered rather eerie. I knew the tour was real, I had all kinds of proof. I questioned the reality of other things. I knew the people were real. I saw them on Facebook. Were we all truly friends or were we just ordinary people who had bonded by way of an especially trying experience? I settled on the former. I noticed I couldn't help but pointing out at streets in Jackson and saying, "I cycled here with my friends."

My first crash was on July 5th. It shook me up enough that I was no longer enthusiastic about cycling. I still did until a few days later when I crashed again. This time I hurt my ankle. I finished that day and cycled part of the next few days but stopped because something didn't feel right. I liked the idea of being a rockstar and pushing passed pain but I worried about incurring long-term damage. My ankle stayed swollen though I took great care of it. When I did see a doctor, he gave the sad news that I couldn't cycle for the remainder of the tour (I decided to defy his order to complete the last few miles). Someone suggested that doctors always say that, but I protested, "Why did I go if I'm not going to take his advice?" Still, that anyone might think I had flaked out got to me.

When we had arrived at Myrtle Beach, while everyone experienced unbridled jubilation I couldn't help but feel a loss. I had set out to cross the country, not to stop halfway. Reflecting on my disappointment that last weekend we all shared, I realized that this was not the end of the story. I began to consider the prospect of repeating the tour next year. And I started to feel better.