In the spirit of briefness, all lines are 140 characters or less. It's a Twitter thing! :)

For those unaware, I'm writing a book about my 2008 bike trip across America.

Authoring and publishing a quality book has taken much longer than I thought.

This is a very lonely, maddening and scary process - been tested to learn what I'm capable of.

It was tough working on the book from February thru May - had the time (little work & income)
but it was difficult concentrating thanks to hard times.

Now it's hard to work on the book because I have a full-time job in mental health and summer job on Saturdays. Scarce time & energy!

Despite the obstacles, I sense this book has the potential to be a great one. That keeps me going.

Thank you for asking how my book process is going.

Some of your touching tweets & encouragements have brought me to tears - some are posted on my living room wall.

The book is pretty much written. I'm going through it a second and third time right now.

I'm paying a professional editor $60 per hour to edit, comment and help. She's amazing!

For awhile I had peer editors who helped - told me when I was sounding whiney, arrogant and boring. :p

Never be boring! The reader needs to be interested all the time and feel part of the story.

I'm doing my best to minimize the words "I," "me," and "myself" in the text. :)

Biking across America is much easier than writing a book about biking across America for sure! Ha ha!

Never forget: 4 flats in one day in MS Delta, winds of western New Mexico and small towns
like Blythe CA, Salome AZ, Haskell TX & Midway AL.

Also the first day in San Diego, stolen bike, loose dogs, Alabama & Georgia trucks and seeing many friends.

I want to bike across America again. In time. It's in God's hands. :)

Thanks for reading!

-Steve

Facebook: http://facebook.com/coloradoguycom

NOTE: Below is a tribute to Abby that I published on my Mt. Princeton web site today.

The direct link is: http://mtprinceton.org/abigail-cortese.htm



On this page is my tribute to the late Abby Cortese. She is a 21-year-old woman who grew up in Buena Vista and tragically died in a car accident near Granite one week ago. As you see, Mt. Princeton is included in the image above. Special thanks to Tony Hill of Colorado Springs, a friend of the Cortese family, for creating this beautiful image with Abby (photo at bottom) and allowing me to post it on this page.

My Tribute To Abby

You can read the very beautifully written and entire obituary of Abby Cortese here, but allow me to quote one paragraph that completely rung true with me in my experiences with her:

"Every person Abby came in contact with was touched in some way, whether you knew her for five minutes or for five years.  She loved people selflessly and encouraged so many. She kept in touch with everyone she knew."

I can completely attest to this. Allow me the space to tell you just how much Abby was a blessing in my life.

There is a saying that goes something like, "I may not remember your name or what we talked about, but I will always remember how you made me feel." So many of my memories and interactions with Abby are not quite as precise as I would like them to be, and this drives the devout chronicler in me a little crazy, but what sticks out so clearly is how she made me feel. I always felt loved and respected by Abby. Abby made me feel like I was important.

I moved in Buena Vista in October 2005, and upon spending time regularly at Bongo Billy's, a coffee shop on the main highway, I began to meet the Cortese family. First I met Jesse, the oldest son of the six kids, who worked behind the counter. Soon after, I met most of the other kids (Jesse, Luke, Ruth, Abby, Sam and Anna) and parents (Tony and Donna) in one fashion or another. Abby and I would usually talk, however briefly, any time I saw her.

I remember seeing Abby at weekly meetings of the Clearview Community Church Youth Group, where I briefly volunteered for a short time. When it seemed like most high school juniors and seniors were "above" attending youth group, Abby was consistently in attendance. My initial impression of her was it was clear she loved God with all her heart and was serious about living it out.

In 2006, Abby and I linked up on our myspace pages (and later, facebook). This might seem like a small thing, but Abby always made an effort to interact with me online. We bantered in our comment sections, whether we discussed hardcore music and the songs on her profile, her latest skiing/snowboarding adventure or the latest scenic Colorado pictorial I created for the web. We talked about New Jersey (both of our families are from there), how she was growing her hair long at one point and the quality of our gym workouts. Fun stuff.

Abby and I worked out at the same gym. In fact, when I joined Peak Fitness Center in Fall 2006, Abby was an employee there.

During late 2006, when my counseling practice was really busy and cashflow was solid, I considered hiring an assistant. I needed someone to handle various tasks, especially when I traveled for long periods of time. When I thought about possible candidates, Abby immediately came to mind. She was the most reliable, responsible and honest young person I knew. One day at the gym I asked Abby if she wanted to work for me, but she declined. She already had two jobs and I think she shared she was going on a big trip - the first of many interesting missions and adventuresome trips she would make.

For 2007 and 2008, Abby did a lot of traveling and so did I. Still, I would see her at the gym from time to time, and there was a period for a month or two in the summer of 2007 when we seemed to work out at the gym at the same time of day on a regular basis. Frequently we would be next to each other on the treadmill, and we would talk about whatever. I remember her telling me about some of the traveling plans she had. I was so proud of her. And partly envious.

Now let me tell you something about myself that might better highlight how much I appreciated Abby's kindness. As a single 37-year-old man, if I were to be completely honest, I'd say one of my weaknesses about living in Buena Vista is that I never quite feel like I fit in. I really do have some good friendships, but generally speaking, meaningful interactions with others are rare and special. I have little in common with most older folks and retirees ahead of me in age. Those in my age category (upper 30's or so) are mostly busy with their marriages, parenting and family responsibilities; It is often too difficult to build close relationships with them. And younger people in their 20's often seem standoff-ish with me, or come off as "too cool" to acknowledge me or to do hikes and other activities with me. I was a junior in high school when Abby was born, and so she was clearly in the younger-than-me group.

This is why, in retrospect, Abby's kindness means so much to me. Abby always made the time to acknowledge me. To see how I was doing. To have a genuine conversation about whatever was happening. What a special girl.

When I bicycled across America in Feburary/March 2008, a large conspicuous map of the USA was posted on a bulleting board at our gym. The owners tracked me on a daily basis with a marker, and many gym members tracked the progress of my trip by viewing the map during their workouts. Of course, Abby noticed the map and encouraged me a few times with short online messages on myspace. It meant and still means so much to me that Abby and other friends took such a great interest this major event in my life.

My last interaction with Abby was in August 2008. The laundromat I use is across a narrow street from the gym. As I was driving out of the laundromat, Abby was walking out of the gym. For some, it would be no big deal to wave and keep driving, but there was no way I could do that with Abby. I stopped in the road and we talked. We had not seen each other in awhile alright! She invited me to a gig being performed by someone she knew. My memory is sketchy, but I think it was in Colorado Springs. I told her there was no chance I would attend, because I was about to leave for New Jersey to be with family. She understood. "Just know you're welcome if you happen to be around." Abby was full of kindness as usual.

Above everything else, I will always remember Abby's countenance. Her smile. Her eyes. She radiated the love of Christ. There was something very special about her. "She had something that you wanted" ... Abby was so close to God that you could not help but desire what she had spiritually.

Personally, I gave my life to Jesus Christ when I was 21, and I remember being "on fire" for God like Abby was. There is no question I have done some long-lasting things for Christ over the years, but I must admit that somewhere in my 30's, things have begun to change. I've become consumed with important "life responsibilities" that crowd out my spiritual vitality. Much of my everyday energy and attention is focused on my shit. I am burdened with the demoralizing pressures of keeping two flailing business afloat in this awful economy. I am in a fierce "up and down" battle in accepting the realities of loneliness and singleness at this stage of my life. I am saddled with deciding what next step to take with work, career, where to live, and how to build a life of meaning and purpose as I approach my 40's. It is a lot on my plate.

All these burdens have squashed the old Steve. The guy who couldn't stop telling people with enthusiasm about how God had turned his heart alive. The guy who was willing to consider taking on almost any ministry opportunity that came his way. The guy who loved nothing more than to spend an hour or two everyday reading and studying His Word, just to know Him better. Where has he gone?

As I attended Abby's funeral in a large high school gymnasium packed with people, I thought deeply about this. Abby's life challenges me to dare to live better. She challenges me to live out the Christianity I profess more boldly and courageously. I had a taste of what Abby had and I want it again. To love God more. To love others. To be so close to Him. To be radically in love with Jesus.

Thank you Abby. Thank you for impacting my life.

-Steve Garufi

(Written February 2, 2009)

P.S. My sincerest condolences to the Cortese family and all who are deeply saddened by her death.

While I'm in the mood to procrastinate with working on my resume, allow me to type out my climbing goals for 2009.

(NOTE: This is assuming I am still living in Colorado this summer.)

I'd really like to reach the 20-mark for 14ers. I've done 14 14ers with two repeats, and so I need to do six new ones. Honestly, if I do three or four I'll be happy, but c'mon, I'm shooting for 20! :)

Mountains on my "must-do" list:

Humboldt Peak - I really want to do one in the Sangre De Cristo Range! (PHOTO BELOW: One of those mountains is Humboldt Peak, I believe. I think it's on the left.)



Mt. Princeton - Yes, this would be a repeat. But my buddy, the "Big D" and his wife, the "Lovely A" intend to do this. They're going to drive way past the radio towers to the point where the trail begins off the road. I want to go just to see if their truck can make it! :p)

The ones on my "probably-should-do" list:

Grays and Torreys Peak - From photos I've seen and anecdotes I've heard, the summits of these two are like a zoo at the top. Way to many people for my taste! Because they are relatively "easy" 14ers and it's a short drive from Denver, these are two well-climbed mountains. If you are looking for solitude, the standard route for these peaks are not for you. Anyway, if I climb these two, I would hope to do them on a Tuesday in September when Denverites are working and most tourists are gone. :p)

Mt. Shavano and Tabeguache Peak - I can knock off two in one climb. These are not as bad as Grays and Torreys, but the standard route is also known to a be "highway of people" on most summer days. Another week day would be preferable.

Mt. Massive - Why not?

Uncompaghre Peak - I can dream, can't I?

If I do all those, that would be seven new 14ers and one repeat. Hmmmmmm.

Oh, but I have more climbing goals!

Those on the "really-want-to-do" list:

Alpine Tunnel via the Hancock Ghost Town eastern side. Drive to Hancock. Walk on the old railroad grade to the caved-in Alpine Tunnel. Climb to the top of the divide  so I have a nice view of the train track and remaining railroad structures on the other side. Then walk along the divide to Mt. Poor (alt. 12,442), then down to Williams Pass. From there, it's an easy walk back to Hancock.

One U.S. state high point in the Mountain West - Wheeler Peak (alt. 13,161 feet) in New Mexico would be a nice one.

Those on the "like-to-do" list:

Bald Mountain - Banana Mountain - Syncline Hill - Drive to Boss Lake in southern Chaffee County. Take the Hunt Lake Trail to the divide and walk south on the divide to Bald Mountain (alt. 12,851 feet). Walk east on the ridge to Banana Mountain (alt. 12,323), followed by Syncline Hill (alt. 11,404). Then scamper down toward Boss Lake which isn't very far.

Fitzpatrick Peak (alt. 13,124 ft) - This one is SWW of Tincup Pass. From Tincup Pass, walk along the divide about 0.7 miles to its summit. Driving on the east side to Tincup Pass is really long and adventurous. I wouldn't mind driving to Mirror Lake or all the way to the pass from the Mirror Lake side, and then climbing. There is another hiking option via Napoleon Pass and Cumberland Pass from the west. (PHOTO BELOW: The view of Fitzpatrick Peak from Tincup Pass.)



South Elbert - Hey! This is a 14er! I don't care if it doesn't officially count as a 14er... If I climb from Highway 82 to South Elbert and come back down, then damnit, I'm counting it as a 14er! :-D

Climb Midland Hill in Buena Vista from the back (east) side. Take Chaffee County Road 376 A to the southeast-east side of Midland Hill and climb to the saddle on the summit's north side. (It's the spot where there is usually a lot of remaining snow in the spring.) I've been up there twice already; It'd be nice to go another way.

Thanks for reading! :)

-Steve....

When my Dad was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in June, I knew it was imperative that I spend some significant time at home, for we really did not know how much time he had. In early August, I worked things out in my life in Colorado to spend four weeks living with my parents in my childhood home in Fairfield, New Jersey.

Some recent memories of my Dad from that time …

My parents noticed just how obsessed I was with Dunkin Donuts coffee. One afternoon my Dad and I visited the Dunkin Donuts on Route 46 on the eastbound side. We both ordered a decaf vanilla spice coffee with cream no sugar. Some New Jersey Dunkin Donuts have this flavor that is not offered nationwide. It is an amazing flavor!

Dad was amused that we went through the drive-thru and said he liked the coffee. I am not sure whether he truly meant it or not, but hey, he was a good sport about it. It was a special moment where I could include him in my Dunkin Donuts craziness. :)

____________________________

Dad had chemotherapy appointments most weekdays and Mom would always take him. However, one morning I drove him to his appointment. We briefly sat in the waiting room and my Dad conversed with practically everyone else there. When you have cancer, there is a good chance you will immediately connect and build rapport with others going through it too.  

On the way back, my Dad had a rare moment of disclosure. It probably not a big deal, but considering how quiet and reserved my Dad was, it took me by surprise.

"Mom is the best. She's been very supportive through all of this. You want to marry someone who's going to support you through these types of things." he said.

"They say in 'sickness and health' in your vows. Of course, you don't want to marry someone who's constantly sick from the beginning, but you never know."

Dad expressed gratitude for his wife and exhorted me at the same time. I welcomed the latter.

____________________________


The experience I will never forget was Dad's final five hours of his life in November. (Read my previous note for some of the details about my immediate rush to fly out of Denver Airport to see him and Dad's poor condition at this point.)

For much of my life, I viewed Dad as physically stronger and more capable than me. Of course, as a child, I was the one dependent on him for all sorts of things. I was a helpless baby that needed my parents to meet all my demands. During my teenager years, I was pretty much useless – I can think of many times where Dad intervened when it was clear I was not quite ready for real life responsibilities. Dad even helped financially when I went through graduate school in Denver eight years ago. So much help.

And now, as I sat by his bedside, the roles were reversed. There I was, the strong one and my Dad was weak. I was the one holding his hand, caressing his head and telling him gently that I loved him. I did not consider my Dad helpless at this point, like the way he and Mom cared for me when I was a needy young toddler, and so maybe the comparison does not quite fit. Yet this was obviously a critical moment and could not help but think about when I was born. Our time of both of us being alive was coming to end.

Dad's physical body was indeed in rough shape, but I believe his spirit was at peace. Cancer had overtaken Dad's body and the internal bleeding that began 36 hours earlier was the final straw. It was only a matter of hours before he would breathe his last breath. Dad died at 12:30 a.m. on early Monday morning, November 10.

____________________________

My grieving comes and goes. I've learned a lot about grieving in the past six weeks. Experience, of course, is the best teacher.

One story sticks out since I have been back in Colorado.

I was at the gym. Because I was gone for much of August, September and November, I had not seen many fellow gym members for some time. Lynn, a retired military woman who lives a half-mile from my home, greeted me.

"Hey Steve. How you been? I haven't seen you in awhile."

It was nice to see her. Lynn is such a gentle and humble woman. She invited me to her Super Bowl party just a few weeks after I moved to Buena Vista three years ago when I was just beginning to build relationships.

"Well, I haven't been around. My Dad died of cancer and I was preoccupied with that." I was somber yet matter of fact.

"I'm so sorry. Where did your Dad live? Was he in this area?"

"No, New Jersey. That's where I'm originally from. I spent a lot time being with him."

"Oh. So you were helping him."

"Well, not really. He was physically walking around until the end. I mainly lived with him…"

Our conversation was suddenly interrupted. Lynn's step class was beginning and someone came up from behind her to speak with her. No big deal. We would talk later.

I stepped up on a treadmill to begin my workout and the words I just uttered hit something soft inside. Words indeed have power.

What do you mean you didn't help your Dad?

I was solely thinking of physical care. My Dad, to the very end, was physically able. He walked fine and did not feel much pain. He was generally more tired than usual  and took more naps than usual, but that was it.

Why are you minimizing the impact of your time with your parents?

These questions hit me hard. Real hard. I began crying right there on the treadmill.

Of course, I helped out my Dad. I have lived 2,000 miles away from my parents for over ten years. There was no question they appreciated having me around.

My parents told me directly how glad they were to have me home, but I never fully accepted their words of gratitude. (This gets me thinking: How many of us have a hard time truly receiving compliments or words of affirmation?) The simple chores I did to keep busy were no big deal for a strong 37-year-old man, but they were definitely questionable for an older man with tumors growing inside him. It was simple stuff that men usually do and Mom shouldn't have to do. I watered the grass. I got a flat tire fixed on their vehicle. I took out the garbage when needed. I was around to do whatever as it came up.

I myself value quality time with friends above almost everything. It really doesn't matter what we're doing (and there isn't much to do in this dinky-ass mountain town), but the fact that we're together means something. This was probably how my Dad saw me being home.

Oh my. I have no business saying I did not help my Dad.

At this point, fighting my tears was futile. I was bawling as I walked on this treadmill.

When I bicycled across America in February and March, I had so many experiences of people helping me in various ways. Fun conversations with teenage restaurant workers were very common. Friends drove long distances just to meet me along my route. Even a dear friend committed to buy me a new bike in exchange for work on the same day my bike was stolen.

But there is one man I want to mention – a man in the California desert who helped in a very special way. My bike had a mechanical problem that rendered me unable to ride, and the bike part I needed was so specific that other bike shops could not help me. I was stranded. It really looked like my adventure was coming to an end, and it was messing with my head. Long story made short, this man repaired my bike, and at the risk of sounding corny, I am convinced this man was my angel.

Six weeks later, I finished my long bike journey by riding my wheels into the Atlantic. I then flew from Jacksonville to San Diego, and the next day drove my car (sitting in a friend's driveway in San Diego) back to Colorado. During the drive, I realized I could make a modest detour and go through the town where I was stranded. I wanted to see him again to thank him and inform him I made it.

Well, he was there at the bike shop alright. I introduced myself and he did remember me. I shared the highlights of my trip and we exchanged small talk. Now this bike shop employee was not cold or unfriendly to me in any way, but the magic was definitely not there. From what I could gather, I had been just another guy who biked across America, and he merely did his job when he fixed my bike. Regardless of his view, I will think otherwise. I am so grateful for what he did for me. He is my hero.

This bike mechanic's seeming indifference to me was similar to what I was doing with my recent interactions with my Dad. I was minimizing the importance of my time with him. Something does not have to be supposedly "important" for it to be important. The small things matter too - perhaps even more than the big things. There will be no more negativity coming out of my mouth about the small things. Those four weeks I was back home in New Jersey were priceless.

Sweet memories. Thank you, Dad.

Every few days, I will be playing the next successive song from the Moody Blues' second album, Days of Future Passed. Released in 1967, this is an epic "concept album" - an expression of an ordinary person's day from waking their up all the way through to the night. It is a beautiful mix of late 1960's rock and their charming and dreamy psychedelic style. Most endearing, an orchestra plays in  various sections and performs interludes between songs.

Each song builds on one another, and because of the interludes, I generally dislike playing individual songs. To an ordinary person hearing a song for the first time, it may seem strange. The lack of context takes away from the listener's experiences. This album really must be played in its entirety to fully appreciate it! Also, you might recognize "Tuesday Afternoon" and "Nights in White Satin"  - those are two songs that made it onto music radio stations over the years.

You can read more about this album here:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Days_of_Future_Passed

I first heard this album in my car when I was driving cross-country around the USA at age 23 in 1994. Bernie, my best friend from high school, loaned me the album in an audio cassette. I distinctly remember enjoying them during my week exploring southern New Mexico and Arizona... the hot weather, the sandy vistas, chocolate brown mountains, the cacti, sagebrush, the sleepy small western towns, all that ... it became part of me. I fell in love with the desert! Looking back, it was then that I knew in my heart I would return west someday. Six months later, I left my childhood town in New Jersey and spent 2.5 years in New Hampshire, another very special time in my life, but after that I packed everything I owned in my little Honda CRX and returned west. I had no job, only a few acquaintences and some money in my pocket.

When I hear these pieces from Days of Future Passed, my mind always returns to that wonderful time in the Southwest. I play these songs loudly in my living room. They stir my soul. When I arrived to this region in 1997, fate, God's will, or whatever you want to call it, led me to Colorado instead of southern New Mexico, my intended destination. For eleven years I have called this snowy and mountainous state home. I know I have created a good life and modest name for myself as "Colorado Guy," but Colorado has been a detour. Deep down inside, my soul longs for the hot desert. The pull is intense sometimes. I do not know what the future holds, but I would be surprised if I never spend significant time in Arizona and/or New Mexico. Someday. When the time is right.

In the meantime, I'll enjoy listening to this album now and then. :)

-Steve

P.S. I start with "The Day Begins" on Thursday afternoon, October 23.

P.P.S. I'll throw in a photo of New Mexico and Arizona. Both of these were taken during my bike ride across America in February/March 2008.

Myself in the desert (Quartzsite, AZ) - "Day 5" Blythe, CA to Quartzsite, AZ



Carrizozo Peak (Carrizozo, NM) - "Day 18" San Antonio, NM to Carrizozo, NM

Now I will admit I have the pleasure of meeting many vacationers during the warm season here in Colorado. My ColoradoGuy.com web site garners a large amount of traffic on a daily basis, and it seems especially liked by folks who live in just awful places like Indiana, Oklahoma and even Michigan who long to live where there are beautiful mountains, wide open spaces and stunning scenery. For awhile, I hosted a meeting of regular visitors on my forums known as the Colorado Guy Festival. (2006 was the largest: http://coloradoguy.com/colorado-guy-festival.htm)

So yesterday seemed like no big deal. Michael built some rapport with me via e-mail over the past few months and was finally here. The special thing was, the Bauers, a family of three, were insanely enthusiastic about my web site. I met at their cabin rental and they had all sorts of questions that showed they practically viewed every page on my site. They even asked for details about the dreaded incident in 2002 when I asked a girl out and got rejected in front of everyone. :(

Anyway, I understand people might look up to me, maybe admire me or appreciate my hard work in making fun of myself, showing the beauty of Colorado and giving someone a reason to procrastinate at work by surfing my web sites. That's fine ... but these people treated me like a freakin' celebrity. Michael (the father) compared meeting with me to the time he got Kevin Costner's autograph. And he was serious!!!

Below are some of his pictures he included in a mass e-mail and his text. Do watch the YouTube video clip I made of our lunch! :)




(After he took the photo of me sipping coffee with my ratty bedhead hair, he said he was going to frame it and put it in his living room!)

The e-mail titled "Colorado, September 23, CELEBRITY CONTACT!!!" below...

We were fortunate enough to have met up with the biggest celebrity on either side of the continental divide, even bigger than Kevin Costner!!!
 
His name is Steve Garufi, a.k.a. "The Colorado Guy".  Here is a link to his website...
 
http://www.stevegarufi.com/
 
Click on that link to find a video clip of our lunch with him. Also, click on the "Altitude Snob" link, where you'll find us waaaay down on the list.  You have to be a friend, family member, or an acquaintance of the Colorado Guy to make this list.  I'd like to think we made it as friends!!!  The Colorado Guy is AWESOME!!!
 
Attached are some photos of our brush with a famous person.
 
Here is the world's famous Colorado Guy standing outside of our cabin.  We were too much in awe to think to get a picture of him as he sat and chatted with us INSIDE the cabin like a regular person!! He even posed with us and let me put my arm around him like it was nothing!! He said, "follow me to my house and I'll give you some bumper stickers".  Can you believe that?? Josh and the Colorado Guy hang out in front of Colorado Guy's 1964 Cadillac. He's talking to me while he eats lunch.  I couldn't believe it was really happening!!! Josh stands near the Colorado Guy while the Colorado Guy works his magic with his camera. All too soon, our time was over.  Molly gives Colorado Guy a good bye hug.

(End of e-mail)

Here's the video clip I made with them! :)







So am I a celebrity? Definitely not, but hey, it was fun to be treated like one for a few hours!

-Steve

Good news: The Associated Press wrote a short article about viewing fall foliage and enjoying autumn photos on the Internet. It's a short piece and includes five links to autumn friendly web sites ... the second one listed is mine! :) (My Autumn Photos Web Site)

The syndicated article has been in numerous newspapers of major and small cities in the past week, and web traffic has been booming ... really booming ... like in thousands and thousands of visitors everyday!

Here are a few newspaper links to the article:

LA Times: http://travel.latimes.com/articles/la-trw-sns-trvrail1-wk3b

Detroit Free Press: http://www.freep.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080921/FEATURES07/809210360/1032

Kansas City Star: http://www.pressdisplay.com/pressdisplay/viewer.aspx (page 83)

Chicago Tribune: http://mobile.chicagotribune.com/detail.jsp?key=176226&rc=tr&full=1 (page for mobile phones)

Baltimore Sun: http://www.baltimoresun.com/topic/sns-trvrail1-wk3,0,7303104.story

Orlando Sentinel: http://www.orlandosentinel.com/travel/la-trw-sns-trvrail1-wk3b,0,2352544.story

Catholic Online: http://www.catholic.org/travel/story.php?id=29356

Kelowna, Wisconsin newspaper: http://www.bclocalnews.com/okanagan_similkameen/kelownacapitalnews/lifestyles/28680314.html

These are the ones I can verify. Hopefully many more publications use this article. :)

Below are a few of my autumn photos for your enjoyment. I plan to spend the early morning hours tomorrow (Tuesday) photographing the foliage in the mountains. Maybe I'll come up with some nice shots.



-Steve

Six months ago, on this day, I rode my bike into the Atlantic Ocean. Six months!

I have been reflecting so much about my bike trip lately. Of course, part of this is because I am doing my best to write my first ever book about my long journey.

There's so much to say. So many thoughts and feelings that hit me throughout the day and night. I recently began carrying paper and a pencil with me at all times to write down all kinds of memories and free associations. If I don't have paper, I text message myself with my insights.

I think I said this earlier but I must repeat it: Book writing is hard work. Damn hard work! About two months ago, I made a covenant with myself to make my "best stab" at writing a book during the month of July, and all in all, I think I made decent progress. Soon after, I committed to work however long and hard I needed to complete my memoir.

Commitment is nice, isn't it? Well, there is a downside to commitment. I have felt the terror of commitment with that nagging voice running rampant in my head. I can't go back to quitting because that's not an option, but good heavens, what the @$% have I gotten myself into? The bind of my commitment wears at me because I am driven and I can be very harsh with myself. I, for one, know better than to believe my excuses, let alone others'.

At this point in my writing journey, I am still not sure if I will successfully complete this book. Too much of my self-worth is connected to succeeding, and my hunch is providence might be "working behind the scenes" to slow me down so I can work through this matter. Oh and there are those anxiety-producing questions that haunt me now and then: Do I really have what it takes to succeed? I generally succeed at things I put my mind to, but what is my limit?

For whatever it's worth, I've concluded bicycling across America is much easier than writing a book about bicycling across America. Only time will tell how things turn out.

A few weeks ago, I had a rough 2-3 day period where I felt so demoralized over my writing. I was writing about my days cycling through western New Mexico and I felt exasperated about describing the winds, the wide open spaces and the huge sky most days. How many ways can you say the sky was freakin' big and the winds were my only companion?

I sent a ranting e-mail about this to a prominent author whom I deeply admire. Amazingly, I correspond with him on occasions and below was his reply to me:

"sounds like you're making progress. that's the main thing.
the agony comes along with the territory. but you're halfway
through a first draft. keep plugging away.
you'll get there. and worry about big big big skies when
you go through a second and third time. for now, just getting
it on paper is a big deal. when you get to page three hundred
or so, stop and consider how many people have actually written
300 coherent pages of anything. not many. (no matter how many books
are in barnes and noble.) so it's an accomplishment just to write the thing.
so worry about perfection afterwards.
everyone has a story. everyone wants to write it. you're actually doing it!!!"

What sweet words! I read them frequently to cheer myself. :)

One day at a time. This is only the first draft. Just type it all out. Give yourself permission to write a bad book on this first go-round. Once you proofread it the second and third times, then you can start making changes and tweaks to improve it.

Yes, everyone has a story to tell. And my story lives and breathes in me. It is blessed by God. Now it is just a matter of translating my story into written book form.

Bicycling across America is loneliness and monotony.
Bicycling across America is burning thighs, sore calves and tired shoulders.
Bicycling across America is astonishment with 75 degree days in the Southwestern desert in February.
Bicycling across America is flat tires.
Bicycling across America is one convenience store, one motel and one new restaurant after another.
Bicycling across America is getting my bike stolen, and then having intense fears about my new bike being stolen.
Bicycling across America is being at the mercy of the winds and the weather.
Bicycling across America is smiles and "cat calls" from female drivers.
Bicycling across America is endless highways in the middle of nowhere.
Bicycling across America is staring at cracks in the pavement and weeds growing on the edge of the road.
Bicycling across America is being in small southern towns where locals can't even fathom what I'm doing.
Bicycling across America is amazing physical fitness; It is losing so much weight that I wore my belt on the third rung.
Bicycling across America is my personal story of triumph.
Bicycling across America is the joy of friends being part of my story.
Bicycling across America is longing for the end, yet knowing I will be sorrowful when it is.

I will finish this blog entry by saying I want to bike across America again. I've been cycling regularly this week and I'm catching the bug again. Why not? Who says I can't bike across America again? Maybe I will do a different route. Maybe I will raise money for a charity. Maybe I can ride, from the deepest part of my being, with more peace and joy. So much in my life is "up in the air" right now and finances are terrible, but my heart is open. I do sense I need to get this book out the way first.

Photo Below: My standing in the Atlantic Ocean with my bike on March 16, 2008. Thank you for being part of my story!

The last day:
http://bikeacrossamerica.org/trip-report/day45/waycross-jekyllisland.htm



-Steve