Oregon and Completion

It's done. I did it. 3140 miles in 49 rides (averaging 65 miles a day). 12 states. A fully funded finished house. Another $20K given out in grants we assessed and awarded. $16K in additional individualized grants (I gave my $500 to Penn Haven). 31 new friends, hopefully with several that truly last. Hundreds of people met, thousands of witnesses, and many inspired or touched. Charleston, SC to Pacific City, OR...A Bike and Build summer.

Care for a flash back to Colorado Springs? You can watch me gesticulate excessively here.

In explanation of the final days of my journey, I encourage you refer to the photos here. Leaving Boise for Oregon, I enjoyed riding alongside my slack-lining compadres Justin and Chris. Even with stops for photo shoots, thrift stores, and multiple flats of my front tire, we arrived in town in the early afternoon. Already excited about my next feat of endurance (Philadelphia marathon November 22), I decided to squeeze in a 4 mile run and check out the town. Despite aggravating my knee a tad, stumbling upon their County Fair made it entirely worthwhile. In the evening, our group got down to business, deciding on the grant applications to our organization. We particularly liked Habitat for Humanity applications from Clarksdale, MS and Charleston, SC, giving those regions the most money. I happily spearheaded this decision making process, maintaining decorum and keeping us task oriented. At the end of the day, we had given out more than $20K to some truly great youth driven projects. What an empowering feeling!

The next we continued on to Juntura, a tiny town of about 150 residents. Despite the small size, we received a wondrous welcome and I admittedly ate way too much of their baked goodies. Afternoon entertainment came in our host gym, where we rope climbed, shot hoops, and rough housed. Despite my warnings, my good friend Dane challenged me to a wrestling match. With the vast gap in experience, the matches were fairly one-sided. As onlooker Taylor told me, "it was hilarious watching him go from standing to flailing so quickly." I think I gained a bit of toughness cred on those mats. As we enjoyed a lovely dinner, everyone started asking me about my feelings about my Last Supper, making my upcoming departure very real. I spent my final evening writing gratitude letters to all my fellow riders and enjoying the pinkish hues of the SE Oregon desert sky.

The next day may be one of the most memorable of my life. In honor of my departure from the group, the other riders had anointed that our ride to Burns would be a dress up parade. The ridiculous outfits my biking buds came up were fantastic, reminding me of my dear Penn friends from the Fun Dumpster. Please see photos linked above. Flowing dresses, cowboy hats, sparkles, body paint, capes, bikini bottoms and bare skin...I never loved our crew more. On the road, trucks honked, children stared, and I think we frightened a busload of nuns. Eager to meet up with my mom at our destination, I took a short lunch and sped on. We coordinated a DQ stop, where she generously treated our gang to ice cream. In our peculiar garb, we flooded this small town and filled the restaurant to capacity. I felt truly loved. These random 31 people had become dear friends, willing to sacrifice some self-respect and dignity to celebrate my final Bike and Build ride. Much love team. I then hopped in the car to drive with Jeanie and my mom to Salem, OR.

After a lovely stay with Jeanie's parents, I took my final ride to Pacific City, OR. I was guided by a fit 60 year old named Dan. In the past 10 years, he had ridden extensively, having even done a 206 mile trek from Seattle to Portland...in one day! As we rode through the lush forests of Northwest Oregon, he told me of his family, Portland's kooky character, Oregon trivia, and his views on American democracy. In our quiet moments, I savored the final day, reflecting over all the places, people, and experiences of my past two months. Soon we had come to Pacific City and I could smell the salt of the ocean. Seeing the foggy coast, I jumped off my ride, hoisted it onto my shoulder, and sprinted to the sea. As I dipped my tire into the water, I bellowed, "America, Bow Before Me!" I know, I know. I've had thousands of miles to think of a plan for this moment, and all I could muster was that line. Lame or not, I loved it. Mushu (my steed) and I had done it. I soon stripped down, danced on the beach, and immersed myself in the frigid Pacific. I will never forget that moment. I thank my mom and Jeanie for coordinating and Dan for riding with me, thank all my donors, fellow riders, and hosts along the way for making this a reality. Aaahh, I am still geeked out now.

This is the end of this adventure, but there is much more to come. Medical school begins in days, which I am confident will be more exciting and challenging than this endeavor. For those that have read this and followed my summer, I appreciate your interest and hoped you enjoyed the ride. I think I am too close to the happening to pull out any great wisdom yet, but let me just say this: Stop and savor once and awhile. Life is pretty fantastic.

Bopping Around Boise

I am currently lounging on the patio of a coffee shop in downtown Boise, enjoying a faint breeze and tapping my feet to sounds of The Killers. Relaxed, tranquil, at peace...all fail to give this condition justice. How did I come to find myself here? Let's rewind...

Departing from Burley, I was introduced to miles of Idaho farms, a lusher version of the Southern plains of miles past. Yet when I was convinced that Idaho was flat, we arrive at our fantastic lunch spot: the Shoshone Falls. They are a definite treasure of the West. Finishing off the last of my vegan chili creation, I rode on solo to Gooding. Arriving hours ahead of the rest of the crew, I planned to explore the town and hit the library. My plans changed instantly when I met a modern version of the kids from The Sandlot. Their motley jumble of neighborhood friends encircled me, fascinated with the spandex'ed cyclist in purple high socks. Proud elder leader Brendan, quiet and confident Jeremy, eager to please TJ, the blond twins Bailey and Brandon, the tomboy Hayley, and energy loaded tiny Peanut will always exist in my memory. I soon learned they were traipsing all over town searching for their lost chihuahua. With the gang alongside, we spent the next hour hollering "Bella," informing local police and animal control, and asking locals for possible sightings. Fortunately, the canine adventurer was recovered and order was restored. I loved it. The rest of afternoon was spent bouncing on their trampoline and chasing down the ice cream truck. I think I am now a honorable member of the troupe. The evening's highlight was an engaging discussion land development policy and its impact on affordable housing. I love when I get to be a kid and adult in the same day.

The next morning I took off for Mountain Home, ID with Bryant. While the morning went fairly smoothly, riding the Oregon Trail admiring the winding Snake river and Idaho's surprisingly frequent canyons, it turned troublesome post lunch. We were greeted with stiff headwinds and barren stretches of uphill roads. Grinding out pedal stroke after pedal stroke, we found ourselves having only crawled feet forward. Several miles in, Bryant and I looked at each other exasperated. We hopped off our steeds, sat down and collected ourselves mentally. Making a pledge of destination ice cream, receiving an uplifting text from a friend, and firing up some music helped us power through to the conclusion. Once there, we puttered around town, finding a nifty thrift shop where I may have went a tad overboard. One impeccable purchase there was a pair of red, white and blue streamers, pimpin' the patriotic pride of my ride to new levels.

A short ride later, I found myself in the urban haven of Idaho: Boise. With an assortment of novel neighborhoods, a restaurant-laden downtown designed for walking, and an exceptional concentration of city greenery, I have quickly become fond of this city. The true treasure of my Boise experience is Laura Minskoff and her welcoming family. This hip, affable friend from Penn greeted me upon arrival, hosting me as if I were royalty. Along with her sassy yet sophisticated friend, we went to local treasures like Blue Cow and Goody's for treats (yes two different ice cream trips in a day) and saw the newest Harry Potter film. Her magnanimous mother took us all to dinner at an upscale restaurant Berryhill, where I savored succulent Pear Pizza and Angry Pasta. Driving through town, the ladies educated me to the historical, religious, political, and trivial knowledge of state capital. I spent the night at their luxurious home, sleeping in a bed better kept than any hotel. Reading this, you are thinking one thing...adjective overload. Clearly he must be exaggerating. No, dear reader. It was that great. To return a small portion of the favor, I used my early rising habits to whip up a batch of banana pancakes for my hosts. Beyond this, all I have is words. Thank you so much!

Speaking of appreciation, there are some dedications in order. My next two rides into Oregon are for my Penn friends who donated to my affordable housing adventure. Civic House superstars Nick Eng, Rebecca Zeitels and Ashley Templeton are my admired partners in creating a better planet. Alternate Spring Break leaders Fred Yoo, Andrew Weinhold, and Cara Bumgardner served the same cause, validating my efforts and encouraging me to do more. I am glad to know I am returning to an institution that boasted such impressive humans. Thank you for helping me help others.

I am coming upon the final days of my adventure. Tomorrow I ride into a my final state (Oregon) and the town of Ontario, then onto Juntura, and finally Burns. There I will be picked up by my mom and dear family friend Jeanne Enders. Now a Portland resident, she knew me from childhood as my parents' dear friend in Chicago. She is being unbelievably supportive on this trip with her online comments and helping execute my plan to drive up to east of Portland for my ride to the Pacific on August 2. For that reason, I dedicate my August 1 ride to her. Thank you for being you. Then Sunday it will be over. I will have done more than 3,000 miles, built a house, met countless Americans and seen my home country in an unbelievably fashion. Woah.

Back to the present...I've got the urge to stroll here in Boise, so I best be off. Lesson of the day: enjoy the occasional slow morning. Savor!

I Need a Potato

Into Idaho! Finally feeling like myself again, as Dane, Ruben and I concluded our 80 mile ride into Burley averaging better that 20 mph. We arrived to indulge in 55 cent ice cream cones: greatest deal ever. I am pumped to be in yet another state, anxious to learn all that I can about it.

The last state deserves a little love, so please take a gander at my photos here. I think you'll enjoy (there are some sweet Slip and Slide shots).

The last three rides (into Brigham City, Snowville, and Burley) and tomorrow's 82 mile ride where we get to see the famous Shoshone Falls, the Niagara of the West, are devoted to my amazing Rochester supporters. They most definitely deserve this 250 mile span. Let's run through these donors...

The Halls(Robert and Deborah)...Parents of my dear friend Ryan, these fascinating intellectuals continue their history of overwhelming kindness. They hosted me for my entire senior year of high school! No matter how straight arrow I was most of the time, this surely was no easy task. Thank you.
Renee Smith...Longtime friend of my mother, the only wrong with this lady is her love of the Michigan State Spartans. Always warm and friendly to my sisters and I, I thank you and hope you are doing wonderfully.
The Barbatos (Linda and Lauren)...My good friend Lauren, a recent traveling adventurer in her own right, and her welcoming mother always make my return to my childhood home enjoyable. I wish them only the best (and the Red Sox to claim division leadership).
The Nelson Crew (Paul, Beth, Maeve, Ike, and Fiona)...This wild bunch never stops helping me feel like their fourth child. Wrestling the twins, hearing about Maeve's legendary karate skills, or just sitting in their living room, I've been fortunate to have home with them. Thanks for being you.
Wennie, Kevin, Emma, Freddie, and Sasha...Even though Loren and my hope that Eleanor and Freddie will marry to officially bring you all into our family, you've been great friends from the beginning. I hope the whole gang is doing great and appreciate your kind gift.

Oh and I did get an Idaho baked spud. Phew. 4 hours into the state and they load ya up. You should have seen this 6 year old boy go to town on this feast! Smothered it with olives, onions, and butter then dove in. I am trying his technique next time, which likely will be tomorrow's dinner. Looking forward to it!

A Day as a Ute

Another one of those short time-limited posts...here goes...

Before departing Salt Lake City, I joined Bryant and Taylor on a tour of the Mormon (LDS) downtown campus. We toured temples and tabernacles, mingled with missionaries, and contented ourselves not to convert. Some interesting information to share from this visit (in my rush, I hope these don't offend)...

LDS has a presence in everywhere! 53 languages are spoken by missionary guides there, and one was even born in Tel Aviv. How do you end up Mormon in Israel?

During 18 months of missionary work, men and women my age are not allowed to access news, read non-Bible texts, or seek any documented knowledge outside the faith. Absolutely no TV or Internet. They are supposed to be focused solely on their religious growth. While it is nice to get secluded in the wilderness every once and awhile, I couldn't and wouldn't do it. Why close your eyes to see the truth?

The Tabernacle Choir is the longest running broadcast program in the world. And their location to sing in...HUGE! Seats 21,000 people, which apparently often fills up on major LDS holidays in Salt Lake City.

Even today, the current President of the LDS church is considered a prophet. Anytime a new person becomes president, they become the group's prophet. How's that for a promotion...apostle one day and speaking with God the next!

Mormons are plain nice people. We talked to a lot of them, and you just get a "golly gee, your swell" sort of vibe.

Satisfied with our Salt Lake experience, we continued on through some neat towns like Bountiful and Odgen. Tomorrow is Pioneer Day in Utah, a statewide celebration of the founding of Utah. I think the South and West find more pride in state and the Northeast focuses on pride in USA. Remnant of Civil War? Anywho, we saw many preparations being made for a parade (which hopefully we may see where we are now in Brigham City), with miles of unoccupied chairs reserving spaces for the following day. Amazing community trust, as no belongings were tied or locked down.

Now I do have to run, my health is slowing improving as my time on this trip winds down. We will be out in the middle of nowhere for the next few days, but stayed tuned for the more thrilling adventures of Jon Kole!

Tummy Tumblings

"Better a diamond with a flaw than a pebble without." ~Confucius

My personal bid for perfection, no days in the van and off the bike, recently came to an end. After 2,478 miles, a stomach virus knocked me out of commission. Here is the (tad graphic) story...

When I last wrote, I had happily arrived in Vernal, UT. The next morning, despite a tad of overeating of brinner (Ruben made amazing pancakes), I took off for 60 miles into Duschene, UT. I felt fantastic in the morning, able to squeeze in a hip hop dancing session as a warmup. Riding with Bryant for the first 42 miles, sluggishness set in, but I just assumed it was a post century dip. Arriving at lunch, disaster struck. As my muscles relaxed, my abdomen suddenly seared with pain. Unaware of the cause, I lay down hoping it would pass. Thirty minutes later, I found no such relief. With the rest of the group leaving, I needed to continue. I had no intentions of packing it in, so I loaded up my water bottles to tough out the final 18 miles. It was a battle I will not soon forget. No matter how much I drank, my mouth went paper dry. I twice regurgitated prior meals off the side of my vehicle, rolling along at a snail's crawl. If not for kind Abby, who chatted with and even sang to me in this reduced state, I wouldn't have rolled into town. All the while, I was befuddled to my illness, thinking I must be dehydrated in the arid Utah weather. When we finally made it in, I drank a Gatorade and some water and curled up on my Thermarest. Again having stopped physical activity, my body reminded me of its ailment. After a half of hour, my intellect trumped my pride and I called over a leader, asking for help. Moments later, I orally ejected the entirety of my stomach contents. On a post puke adrenaline high, I bounced around, convinced I was back in action. The fellow riders, wise to this illness that has affected many in our group, served as the voice of reason, advising me to wait and see. A rough night later, I woke and was desperate to ride, dehydrated and weakened as I was. Jake realized I was in no condition for a grueling 94 mile ride into Provo and stood up to my stubborn foolishness, directing me towards the van. I thank him dearly for his fortitude. The day in the van consisted of sleeping, burping, and general discomfort. As another rider put it, "you were in perpetual fetal position." Sipping on Ginger Ale and gnawing on Wheat Thins, I regained some of my strength, managing to stroll some of Provo and have a engaging chat with some of the gang at a Chinese Buffet (don't worry, I didn't partake).

The following morning, we had a Habitat work day in Provo. We did a good bit of rehabilitation on the home, mixing some demolition and construction on the same site. Feeling better, I dove into the provided lunch and dinner of salads, sandwiches and a cookie or two. Sadly, my gut microflora weren't too keen on my ravenous return to eating. I awoke this morning completely dehydrated, again stabbed with stomach pain. Desperate to ride, I gulped as much water as I could. Minutes later, bouts of diarrhea foiled any hydration attempts. Curled on the bathroom floor in my spandex, I nearly cried. I committed to this ride to help others, so many people gave to my efforts, all you have to do is ride your flippin' bike! Despite my pleas to my body to hold water, I found myself in the van again. Although I gulped enough Gatorade in the morning to hop back on the bike midway and eek out the last 17 miles to Salt Lake City, I still feel ill.

Reflecting on this mess, I recall the words of my parents and friends: "You're sick, let yourself heal...That is why we have a van...What's shattered? Your pride?...This doesn't take away anything from what you're doing." I am admittedly disappointed, but appropriately and fortunately humbled. Silly as it is, I like to think of myself as a superhero, able to juggle school, family, community service, friends, and fitness without ever dropping the ball. Me get sick? Please. Yet having finished Better, a book admitting imperfection in medicine, I realize that I must recognize my limits. Strive for excellence, yes. Crumple when I've failed, inexusable. The words of Confucius have been of great comfort at this time...

"Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall." ~Confucius

I will continue to heal and ready myself for tomorrow's ride for Brigham City. Like today's shortened ride, maybe I won't feel fantastic or cruise with the fast riders, but I will persevere. I will continue to give my best for the affordable housing cause, even if my best isn't perfect.

Other thoughts from the past few days...

I finished Brave New World, which was a fascinating read. A future where comfort and happiness are protected at the cost of creativity and free thought...implausible or destined? Applying the themes to my life, I know I must embrace the fact that I can suffer and think critically. It is okay, no wonderful, that I doubt, dwell, deliberate, and drive myself silly over certain things and thoughts. Good read, a definite recommend.

Utah city planning rocks. The streets are all on a grid, even in the smallest towns, with the number names corresponding to the distance and direction from the city center. 100 W for .1 miles west, 500 N for .5 miles north, etc. Looks like those Mormons were forward thinkers. Speaking of which, their BYU arrangement can't be beat. Mormons pay about $2,000 a year in tuition regardless of their home state. No wonder they have 85% of the student body of 30,000!

I hesitate to announce ride dedications until I know I can complete a ride, so there may be some retroactive thank yous or doubling up. Hopefully not though!

Pictures, which haven't taken great precedence in this state, will be posted when possible. Till then, read on.

UTAH!

A new state! Today we rode 104 miles into Vernal, UT. This was one of my most prodigious centuries, spending only 8 hours on the journey (which included a flat tire and then losing and finding an important bolt) and my partner Justin's computer said our average riding speed was 18.5 mph. Writing this now, I've got that adrenaline high and feel fantastic, as I've been riding around the town scouting out ice cream venues and chatting with locals. Our gang is pumped to be in a new state, especially since our route will bring us straight through Justin's home in Salt Lake City.

Though carving through sandy mountain terrain gave lovely scenery, the most enjoyable sight today was Dinosaur, CO. Why? It made me think of some wonderful donors to my trip, my dear friends Eddie, Julie, and Jonathan. The term friends doesn't quite cut it, as I rough and tumble wrestle with Jonathan much like I would with relatives. And Julie, well her nickname is Mom #2. This family has been wonderfully kind and supportive for all the time I've known them. You all truly are one of my favorite parts of returning home to Chicago. Thanks again.

I could write more, but I want both ice cream and to finish Huxley's Brave New World. Read and ride, it's what I do.

Adventurism

Back on the road today, arriving in Silt, CO. It was a breeze of 63 miles, as we dropped 2500 feet in elevation and were able to cruise a beautiful bike path for 45 miles. I particularly loved the quaint yet prosperous towns we encountered on the journey. Basalt, Carbondale, then Glenwood Springs each boasted cozy cafes, spacious parks, and unique restaurants. In between, the scenery continued to enthrall. My photography skill cannot appropriately capture the serenity found riding through winding valley roads with towering mountains above. The red rock mountains speckled with evergreen forests made me think of Christmas...and it isn't even ski season! I could definitely see vacationing here sometime in my later life.

Appreciating the natural beauty led me to think of more of the donors that made this all possible. Today's ride and tomorrow's into Meeker, CO are for my Chicagoan heroes. Beth Fama, though an astute critic of some of Habitat's shortcomings, was generous enough to help me irregardless. Colleen Donovan, my peer role model at Penn, serves as the reassuring proof that you can do it all. David McDermott, who admitted regretting his donation because he needed me for summer league softball, represents the right type of people in politics: hard working, friendly, and a stellar shortstop. Ann Harvilla, a feisty lady known to bike even in the harsh Chicago winters, continues to show great kindness to my sisters and I. Thank you all so very much.

So about this post's title: adventurism. I chatted with a number of people in Aspen on the day off, yet never really to locals. You see, the entire village is filled with either transient young adults, seeking out mountain or river thrills, vacationing adults, looking to escape the pressures of high paying jobs, or retired couples, relaxing with exorbitant wealth. Chatting with Chris on the ride today, I finally realized why I found Aspen so unsettling: not a smack of purpose. Everyone seemed to be there to fulfill whimsical fantasies and leave responsibility aside. What is particularly interesting is that such adventurism lives within many of the riders in our group. Jake, seeing a troupe of motorcyclists going to Alaska, told me, "that is my next trip." Upon meeting a woman who had biked from Canada to Argentina, many of my fellow bikers voiced their hopes to do something similar. Not me. The Canada-Argentina journey had taken 2 years and cost $60,000. Maybe my attitudes may change, but I believe my commitments to family and community would supersede such aspirations. It would clash with parts of my personal mission statement. I am still debating on this one, but I guess the point is I was intrigued. I like this civic minded adventure, but don't live for adventure without the cause.

Ah, dinner time...Signing out, Kole.