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

Saying hello to my big brother

I just returned home from doing a presentation at a Hospice training for new volunteers on the topic of rituals and good byes. As I prepared to present I realized that yes, saying good bye is very important, but it really is also about saying hello to a new way to be, a different way to have a person in your life even though he or she is gone. I will have much more to say about that regarding my process of adjusting to life since my husband's death. But part of this process, for me, has also been about grieving for my big brother, Geof, who was killed in a bicycling accident in 1987. Well, really it has been about finding him again - and saying hello. I did say good bye as best I could when he died, but I had some things I needed to attend to before I could more fully process his death. I wrote the poem Big Brother as I entered that phase. And then, six months after that, I found a wonderful way to reconnect with him.

Geof had ridden in the Trek Across Maine, a 180 mile bike ride from the mountains of Maine to the coast that takes place each June over a 3 day period. He rode in the very first year of the Trek, in 1985, and again the next year. I drove him to the start of the first day in 1985 and have a delightful, very clear memory of him riding the beginning phase in torrential rain with a huge grin on his face. I remember wondering, "How could he actually be enjoying that!?" 25 years later I found out the answer to that question when, on that anniversary ride (my third Trek) , the weather the first day was exactly the same and I had a glorious time with my team forging through the wind and rain and thinking about my big brother. I have ridden for the past 4 years and each year, in some way or another, I feel his presence, his support, and his love.

The poem Trek Across Maine is one I wrote after my first Trek experience. The picture above is of the bike storage on one of the stopovers. The years that Geof rode there were 100 or so riders - now there are about 1800 each year. Just an explanation as to why a rider chose to hang his/her bike in a tree!

Big Brother

Big brother, where did you go?
I never got the chance to know you.
I wanted to, but I never really did.
We shared the same house, the same parents,
yet we were so different.
I knew you loved me, knew you cared.
But we didn’t talk much.
We did what we needed to do to move forward
each in our own way.
I remember the Mother’s Day when we
shared a moment in the garden of our childhood home
as happily married young parents.
Children playing with our spouses in the front yard,
we sat together and began to discover each other.
I said, “We did pretty well, didn’t we?”
You asked what I meant.
I pointed to the front yard and smiled.
You got it, you understood and
in that moment I felt connected to you in a different way.
New ways to be together, the future bright, good times ahead.
It felt so solid and sure that day, just sitting together
my big brother and me.
Then you drove away with your family,
contented smile on your face.
A face that spoke volumes without words.
Ten days later Dad called to tearfully
tell me you were dead.
Time has passed and I have grown older,
much older than you ever had the chance to be.
Yet you are still my big brother
and now our children are
amazing young adults finding their
way in a world that has been too long without you.
I miss you, your laugh, your quiet confidence.
They miss you, too.
We have all gone on, but your absence looms large.
I miss you, big brother.
Where did you go? Where did you go?

Sarah Carlson
December 26, 2006

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 my son, the companionship of my daughter
and 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 the human spirit, the stretching of personal limits.
Giving and receiving support to and from people we knew,
and people we had yet to meet.
Pedaling past a multitude of scenes
that represented 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 green shirted volunteers.
Blue skies overhead interrupted only occasionally
by friendly clouds that wafted 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 my daughter and
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