CHANGING GEARS... Message from Kellea

Well, we are certainly learning a lesson about flexibility, resilience and dedication. On Wednesday, a small pickup hit me from behind at roughly 45 MPH. Before you worry too much, I am doing alright - bruised, battered, but not broken - and was very, very lucky by all accounts. The driver, who simply didn't see me or even try to brake (I was biking on the far right in bright clothes) hit my left saddle bag and sent me flying into the grassy embankment. My bag zoomed past my dad over 50 feet, along with my right shoe and illusory sense of safety.

SEND OFF THE MORNING OF...

I went to the emergency room quickly, thanks to Bryson City's speedy EMT force, where I got checked head to toe. X-rays showed no broken ribs and the doctor sent me off with the warning, "You are going to hurt in muscles you didn't even know you had." He was right. My ribs are bruised and muscles strained, but I'm already starting to feel a little better. I had to laugh (and then hold my ribs) when I realized the only time my neck has hurt like this was after my one-time rugby tournament freshman year at college. Given the way the rest of my body feels, I'd take a huge woman over a truck any day.

Needless to say, this changes our plans. I'm not going to be able to even get on a bike for over a week, and longer for the kind of miles we've been putting in. With a heavy heart (but a healing body), Dad and I are putting the cycling on hold. We have returned to Asheville, where the indefatigable Josee Dumesnil and Larry Joe Turner are taking care of us once again. In fact, we just bought Josee's old Volvo - swapping high-risk transportation for the safest car around - and will start out West tomorrow. Though we know in our bodies and minds this is the best choice for now, this has been a very tough decision for two stubborn-as-mules Millers.

KELLEA, BEFORE THE WHIPLASH SET IN....

Thank you all for standing with us, for making this trip about something so much bigger than ourselves. To be honest, the hardest part about getting off the bikes is the thought that we might let you down. Each night we check the blog, look at new messages and gifts to BCA and LFA, and are moved by the sentiment and support. This trip has taught us about the meaning of community, when people we love will stand behind us in our craziest visions and the people we meet cheer us on with earnest enthusiasm.

To be sure, the journey is not over. I can't say yet when or how, but I can say I'm not finished yet. I might even rope some of you in for the next 2,000 miles -- though I suppose the offer is not all that enticing given the current state of affairs. For now, I am simply thankful to be alive, mending, spending time with my dad, and very grateful for your love and support.

KELLEA'S HOSPITAL I.D. JUST IN CASE

I'll round out by sharing a few quick stories of people we have met along the road. Quite simply, I have never felt as connected to this nation as I

have on this trip. In Virginia Beach, Tom and Ann Barton welcomed us in like we were old friends. In Hertford, the owners of Springfield B&B served up a strong sense of local politics (check out http://www.citzensagainstolf.com/) and the freshest eggs I've had. In Roanoke Rapids, a woman approached us outside the grocery store and asked if we were riding for a cause. She'd started chemotherapy for breast cancer the day before and proudly pointed to her hair, saying, "I'm looking pretty good so far." I was struck by her openness and, perhaps more so, by the sad fact that she is not unique, that everywhere we went and everywhere across the country people are in need of groups like Breast Cancer Action and the Lymphoma Foundation of America. In Madison, NC, we met a man who "tipped his hat" to us (then donated generously), and shared how hard it had been since his friend died of colon cancer last year.

Finally, even in the chaos and fear of the accident, we encountered a Southern hospitality of which I can't help but stand in awe. I know this might be unconventional, but I have learned a lot about forgiveness, grace and generosity from Suellen, the driver who hit me, and her husband, Dwight. I can't say that I understand the accident or that I'm not terrified to get on the road right now. (I will need some time.) Still, their care and help -- like Dwight driving us 70 miles back to Asheville when we were stranded in Bryson City -- has reminded me that it could have been any of us who was not paying attention, but that it takes strength to act with the complete compassion, remorse and humanity they have shown.

With that, I sign off. Feel free to email me if you have the inkling (kelleashay@gmail.com). My dad and I will be on the road in one form or another for the next two weeks or so. Stay posted and stay safe.

BATTLE SCAR

THE NEW RIDE!

With love,

Kellea