the structure fell about our feet

Sitting here in the reading room of Seattle Central Library, the imminence of my return to Ann Arbor seems to have suddenly caught up with the wealth of experience I've taken from this summer. As new friends disappear into their past lives, so must I.

It is a bittersweet, but fitting transition - this space, at this time. At this moment, my legs still tanned and toned, I am confronted by the work of a master craftsman, his genius setting the standard for my own. At this moment, my motivations are in conflict, my goals less certain than they've been over the past two and a half months, but my conscience filled with a sort of purpose I don't think I've ever known. My sense of accomplishment is quickly fading, replaced by the overwhelming self doubt of the coming weeks, months, even years. The hope I've seen in the work we've done has little to no hope in academic discourse, at least not at Michigan.

I ran into Craig here a few hours ago, with his friend from another life, completely messing with the spacetime continuum. Something about this moment makes one both quick to recount the past and project onto an uncertain future. But for now, for the sake of my own sanity, I will keep to what I know. That is, to bid farewell to this summer as a series of unbelievable memories.

On an eventful Wednesday afternoon, after an eventful early-summer week, I came upon a screaming bunch of hoodlums standing in a circle in the parking lot of a Lutheran Church. Their apparent lack of civilized communication skills, alongside seemingly naive ambition and excitement, had me seriously concerned about the remainder of the time I was about to spend with them. As it turned out, most of them could actually communicate effectively, and all embodied a unique and undying spirit that could have sustained the group far beyond the following ten weeks. Some made me laugh, many nearly drove me insane, but I found far more calming voices, and even more motivating spirits, to keep me going on even the worst days. I cannot say I ever found a confidant within the group, and often regret never doing more to build strong and lasting connections, but was often comforted to share special moments (be they good or bad). We may not have been best friends, but there were still many moments of solidarity. And in solidarity, the path certainly became more clear.

And so I will miss them all. What a group. They all gave me a reason to get up in the morning, because it was them who made me aware of what I could do and could accomplish. There was no fierce competition (except during "Assassins"), we all had different reasons for having the same goal, and we were unstoppable. I will miss the comedy of Kathy, Zach, Kevin, Jessie, Ian, Quang, and Christopher, who made me laugh probably more than I'm willing to admit. I will miss Isaiah, Arianna, and J-Muffin, who gave me a reason to keep pedaling, harder and harder. I will miss Erik, Joy, Anson, and Derek, who were always kind and generous. I will miss yelling at John R to get up in the morning. I will miss Laura, Kristen, Lindsey, Bobby, Reed, Michelle, Dan, Kim, Pen, and Dae, who always kept things interesting in their own unique ways. And I will miss Katrina, Craig, Sharon, and Kate, who kept me sane.

Indeed there was a huge support network within the group, but it was what extended outside that made me proud to call myself a member of Bike and Build, and always made my blog postings worthwhile. This blog has always been not just about updating any and all who wish to read about the days in the life of a cross-country cyclist, it has been an outlet for some of the thoughts I keep pent up all day. My writing too keeps me sane, allows me to gather up the pieces of a day or few, reconciling them into palatable memory. Though my thoughts were never all here, I'd say these entries have been sometimes obsessively detailed, and it makes me feel content to know there are people out there who enjoy reading what I have to say. From my father, whose pride and encouragement were persistent, and my mother, who constantly worried about me, to Arianna's mother and grandfather, Derek's mother, all of Anson's family, Craig's dad, Joy's mom, and the other family members I've yet to know, you all kept me writing in addition to riding. I even heard encouragement from people I've never met, people who stumbled on my blog randomly, or followed it after hearing about the organization. The breath of investment has been overwhelming and I cannot thank you all enough for your love and support.

Finally, I want to refer you back to my first post. After crossing the country, much of what I said back then I still feel very strong about, perhaps even more so. Now I am more encouraged by the human spirit than I have ever been, but am still concerned that we are not doing enough to support each other, that the spirit of competition has hindered the spirit of camaraderie. The work we have done with Bike and Build has certainly been a great deed, but never great enough to ease our burning consciences. I hope at least, from this blog, and our spreading the word, that consciousness will grow and good deeds will become more widespread. Problems will persist, but they will only get bigger with apathy.

It is with sadness that I bid farewell to all of you, those whose faces I know well and those I've never met. But the time is right, and the transition is fitting. I will pass now into a world where I hope, one day, I can use these experiences from Bike and Build much more extensively and effectively. Thank you again for your support. Keep in touch, if you can (sjhought@umich.edu).

And we were free to go...