Somehow my view of the world changed through the experience this summer, yet I'm still at a loss to figure out just what's different.  Somehow, I thought the world would be different upon return to "civilization".  But it's not. I am.

I've delayed writing this epilogue, hoping that a little post-ride blues would pass, that working through my journal entries would help me figure out what's different and not. But it hasn't. Not yet.

However, I can't delay writing this piece any longer.  With each day that passes, the experience blurs a little more, and I need to record some thoughts and observations before some of the edges are lost in that blur.

(Selkirk Range of Columbia Mountains in Golden, BC, at dawn)

There are three aspects to this past summer that stand out for me.  The first is the wonderful experience of a group of 24 strangers coming together, and creating a unique interdependent team dynamic.  We came together not knowing each other, but knowing that we were each prepared to take on the Tour du Canada journey, that we must have each made tough trade-offs to fit in the pre-ride training, and put in the training time on the road.  When you meet someone in June who's already logged 2,000 or 3,000 or more kilometres to get there, you know you share something already.  From that common goal, and a common attitude of willingness to try, perseverance and positive outlook under harsh conditions, was borne the seeds of mutual respect and a tribal sort of kinship.  We each brought different strengths and weaknesses to the tribe, and everyone experienced good days and bad days.  The differences helped to weave a stronger tribal fabric, for you can't have a strong fabric if all the threads run in the same direction. The kinship was nurtured by Brook, wise beyond her young years, in demonstrating a willingness to do whatever we collectively needed in order to succeed.  No situation was a problem, but rather viewed as an opportunity and challenge. She knew when to exert just enough explicit leadership to bring some fraying edges back into the fabric.  Some, like Kelly and Sue, possess such positive spirits that they uplift others around them, even in the wind, cold and rain.  Some simply inspired, like Neri, 70 years old and getting younger every year, and Jon, with quiet determination, spending time each day communicating with supporters back home, leveraging this experiences to raise money for developmentally challenged children.  We had two dozen different experiences, and we had a shared experience that transcended all.  The essence of teamwork is believing and trusting each other's commitment to a common goal, and achieving something greater than the sum of the individuals' collective achievement.  It's about common people, together achieving uncommon results. Memories of the cold, rainy days will fade, as will details about distances, times, flat tires, and roads good and bad.  What will remain as fingerprints on our lives will be the relationships, the memories of each other.  What will also endure will be some friendships that carry on well beyond TDC 2000.

(Post-ride in Outlook, SK. L-R: Craig, Jeff, Karin, Tacia, Dave, Jules, Ron, Robert)

A second aspect of this summer's journey that will stay with me will be an impression of Canada.  One needs to travel across this great country in an intimate way, as on bicycle, to appreciate the sheer size, beauty and diversity of geography, climate, people and culture that is Canada.  I will long remember the rugged beauty of the western mountains, the ocean of the prairies, the tiny friendly towns in Saskatchewan, the great rolling wilderness of northern Ontario, the bike paths, pretty countryside and elegant charm of Quebec, the fierce pride of the Acadians and the garden delight that is PEI. There are many parts of Canada I'll return to, to explore more fully.

(Town of St-Fabien on south shore of Riviere St. Laurent)

The third aspect of the journey is the personal quest that I started with, the long-time dream fulfilled.  I have proven something to myself.  I have rediscovered and enjoyed physical challenge, and I accept my age and physical limitations.  I am at peace with myself.  I know I need and thrive on both intellectual and physical challenge.  I have discovered I'm not as much of a loner as I thought I was: I cherish the company and support of friends and loved ones just as much as I cherish the solitude of a solo ride on a quiet misty morning. Soaring in the interdependence of a high performing team is something I've been fortunate enough to experienced before, and I was thrilled to be part of one again this summer.  I was touched, at times humbled and always appreciative of the support of others in the group, and glad I was able to give support to many others as well.  

(Wood Islands lighthouse, PEI)

In undertaking this journey, I was blessed with support all 'round: from colleagues at work who helped me create the calendar space; from friends, colleagues and strangers who emailed their support during the journey; from friends who went out of their way to meet me up with me along the trip.  I am also lucky to be living in a time when medical technology is just sufficiently advanced enough to allow me to undertake such a quest.  Before another generation passes, osteoarthritis may be preventable and its hurt will be stopped.  A generation ago, artificial hips sufficient to undertake such a quest as this were a dream.  In this generation, I am simply one lucky boy.

Most of all I remain blessed by the love and support in our family.  The best relationship of all is one in which the love for one another is greater than the need for each other.  To C, my best friend and partner in this even-grander journey we call life, thank you.

(Signal Hill, with Cabot House on summit, St. John's, Newfoundland)

And to make sure we don't take all of this too seriously, thank you to my biker chums for the silliness with our bike mascots.  The intent of the mascots in the beginning was to help us not take ourselves too seriously.  It was very hard to grind up a hill in the rain and the wind, soaking wet and freezing cold, and look at soggy wet little stuffed animals whom we'd anthropomorphized with names, characters and even their own little soap opera, and not smile.  I will likely never know the instigators of many of the mascot pranks and, you know, it doesn't really matter, does it?

(Tailwinds forever!)

What matters is that we enjoy the ride together, not worry about the occasional rain that will fall, and rejoice in the occasional tailwind.