Trek Across Maine

Trek Across Maine announced a major route change, starting with next year's Trek. This has brought up varied thoughts and emotions for me, and I'm guessing for many others. This isn't a complaint, just a statement of what is.
For me participating in the Trek for the past 12 years has been important in varied ways. One of those is that it has provided ample opportunities for me to connect with my brother, Geof, who was killed while biking on Martha's Vineyard in 1987 at the age of 33. Geof was also one of the very first Trekkers, riding in both 1985 and 86. I drove him to Bethel in 1985, silently wondering what in the world he was doing - especially since it was pouring rain. I will never forget seeing him off with the few hardy souls who rode that year and then passing him as I returned to Farmington with my two small children in the car. There was my big brother, lead rider of the first leg of the first Trek (they didn't have much in the way of route markers in those days), happily pedaling in the torrential rain, his extra layer of a garbage bag flapping in the wind, gigantic grin on his face as he gave all of us a big wave.
Twenty four years later, as I was making my way from Bethel to Rumford in my third Trek, I understood. The weather was remarkably similar in 2009, though there were almost 2,000 riders that year. As I watched the water shoot away from my tires, saw my reflection in the saturated road, took a moment to scrape the dirt from my glasses, I laughed out loud. I totally got why my brother was so happy that day. I was having a blast. There was no place else I wanted to be.
There have been other years in other parts of the Trek that I've felt him, as well. Often as we drop down towards Waterville, our home town, and make our way to Colby where we both spent many hours playing tennis, swimming, going to events. Sometimes going out of Waterville in the early morning as we pass by our old neighborhood and our high school.
I will miss all of that, along with hosting my team at my home in Farmington, and the wonderful experience of spanning our state - truly from the mountains to the sea. It just won't be the same. Change can be good, I know - radiant even... after all I did write a book with that title. But, I just don't know about this one.
As I pondered all this over the past days, I remembered the poem I wrote after participating in my first Trek. And I realized I had never posted it to my blog. So here it is:

Trek Across Maine
(Through the Eyes, Ears, and Heart of a Neophyte)

Heart pumping, stomach churning,
gasping for breath –
and I hadn’t even started yet.
Soaking in the moment,
knowing I was embarking on the ride
with the quiet support of our son,
the companionship of our daughter,
 the memories of my husband
and my big brother in my heart.
Off we went,
my AWESOME friends and I.
Off to join the river of bikers
ebbing, flowing, coursing
from the mountains to the sea.
An incredible journey unfolded
as we melded into the current.
Powered by our unique human spirits
and the stretching of personal limits.
Giving and receiving support
to and from people we knew
and others we had yet to meet.
Pedaling past a multitude of scenes
that represent Maine at its finest –
rolling fields, green hills,
distant mountains,
sparkling rivers and streams
weaving their way around
the solidity of the rocky earth.
Serenaded by chirping birds, croaking frogs,
and the cheers of smiling
green shirted volunteers.
Blue skies overhead,
 interrupted only occasionally
by friendly clouds wafting by.
Up and down hills,
feeling the contentment of reaching a peak
and the exhilaration of cruising
down the other side.
Early mornings, flat tires, broken spokes,
aching muscles, more miles
than we had ever ridden.
We did it all.
And I finished hand in hand
with our daughter, his niece.
A sense of accomplishment
unmatched by anything
I had ever done before.
Personal,
 multi-faceted victories
for us all.
A memorable Trek that I hope
is the first of many more to come.

Sarah Carlson

June 19, 2007