2. A few folks have asked if they can still donate. First, WOW and thanks for asking. Second, yes absolutely! Just use the links to the right of this posting or contact Dianne at (530) 546-5803 if you'd prefer to send a check.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Two quick updates on the update
2. A few folks have asked if they can still donate. First, WOW and thanks for asking. Second, yes absolutely! Just use the links to the right of this posting or contact Dianne at (530) 546-5803 if you'd prefer to send a check.
Monday, May 5, 2008
And that's a wrap, America...TO BE CONTINUED

Our trip started in the American South, where everything was new to us. We biked almost 700 miles in 9 days, learned about grits and hushpuppies, and felt ourselves getting stronger each day.
Then came the accident, a setback and disappointment. A few days in Asheville helped us adjust to the dual facts that 1. I could not ride and 2. We weren't quite ready to head home. We bought the green Volvo (Deena, this baby is coming to you!), and crossed the remaining 7 huge states in about a week.
For the final leg, we moved from encountering new, lively people and places to revisiting some of


Now, at last, we are back in Tahoe. I laughed when I saw Dad in a new, clean outfit -- we'd both gotten used to our one set of clothes. (Until Dorothy supplied me with jeans in Memphis, I was wearing what turned out to be Zoe's rain pants as my only non-bike outfit.) We are re-grouping, unpacking, and hugging Dianne a lot. Dad has pulled out the seedlings for some sunlight, and we are starting to think about putting up the yurt where I'll be living this summer. We are also making whispers about when we might ride again. Next summer? The following? Who knows, but I do know that this trip inspired in me a thirst for long hours outside, time with my dad, and connection to causes that matter intimately and deeply to me and the people I love.

But for now, I'm focusing on healing, being home and reminiscing about the three weeks I spent with my dad crossing this great, complicated and beautiful country.
Until the next time,
Kellea
Friday, May 2, 2008
10 things I thought I understood before, but didn't:

Between our friends, people we've met along the way, and the fantastic staffs of Breast Cancer Action and the Lymphoma Foundation of America, countless people have made this trip more than a bike trip -- they (you) have made it a powerful journey into the meaning of community.
We have heard from people who loved Bud, who want to give because of all he has given to this town and to them. We have heard from our friends, who helped us see our new form of transportation as just a new adventure rather than some sort of failure. And, we have heard from strangers who have either read about our trip or who we have met along the way.
We also drew on the support that I personally didn't realize I still had. The North Tahoe community has been truly amazing. We have received calls, emails and donations from the beginning. Though I grew up here, I would never have guessed that even after 8 years away, people from my hometown would embrace this ride and, perhaps most surprisingly, stand with us when we had to shelve the bikes. I bear witness to the strength of this community my parents have shared, cultivated and enjoyed for the past 35 years.
2. GENEROSITY
As of today, we have raised over $5,776.00 -- and the gifts keep coming. Wow.

(Side note on generosity: across North Carolina, truckers were so generous with space. If I had a top 10 list for the state, their consideration of bikers would definitely rank. This may seem simple, but you'd be grateful too if just about every huge truck waited as long as necessary to make a safe pass around you and your bike.)
3. RECOVERY
I've gained new respect for the miracle of recovery -- in body, mind, or community. I've already written about the people we have met who have survived cancer in one form or another. I stand in awe of those who have weathered this most intimate and sadly common of experiences.
When my sister gave birth last December, I could hardly contain my wonder when I walked down the street, thinking, "Every single person here has had a woman go through that." This trip has left me with a similar expansive respect for the people who experience cancer and for

In our hyper-toxic world, with striated access to health care and soaring rates of long-life-expectancy diseases, I can't help but believe we can do better. I know "science" is doing what it can, chugging away in the directions where it can get funding. Good things are happening. Progress is being made.
But I'm talking about the people side. The side where people can afford to spend time with ailing family members or friends without going into debt that will plague them from the rest of their lives. I am talking about medical information that is, for once, not brokered through pharmaceutical companies, but through organizations like Breast Cancer Action and the Lymphoma Foundation of America, which put patients' interests first. BCA will tell you if studies have not yet proven the side effects of a new "miracle" treatment, or if your libido will tank more with X pill over Y. And, unlike some of the doctors my mom has seen, BCA will understand if you need a little time to think over a commitment to five years on Tamoxafen. Plus, they'll do the research to help you make an informed decision.
When I imagine recovery, I picture the individual resilience I have encountered and a collective social healing I hope is on its way.

On a lighter note... Though our trip was abbreviated, Dad and I are still sporting the "heading West" left calf sun burn. Who doesn't love a the tan-limbs-pale-center look from riding in bike shorts and a t-shirt? (For those of you privy to Rafe's equivocation and outright refusal to wear bike shorts, you'll be happy to know he's a convert now.) As for chamois cream, don't judge until you've experienced the tingle. Enough said.
5. WISTERIA
I had to throw this in. In the Bay Area, wisteria plants give hints of wildness, bursting out around trellises and climbing walls. However, I was unprepared for the flower's explosive abundance, 30 feet high and on the move, chasing us for miles. Spicy sweet, almost sinister, its scent carried me across North Carolina. I wonder what other olfactory surprises await in the states I've yet to pedal.
6. HUNGER
First, of course, I mean our voracious appetites. In just a day on the bikes, we were eating like
horses (I'd say pigs, but turns out pigs actually stop when they're full and horses will go on forever). I don't recall a time I've been so hungry or put down so many snickers bars.
Once in the Green Turtle (the Volvo), Dad and I listened to Barbara Kingsolver's "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle." She describes North Americans as "the fattest people closest to starvation," because of the poor nutritional content of our huge diets. For good measure, I'll throw in hunger for good, locally grown and accessible food.
7. MY RIBS
Talk about taking for granted the structure that valiantly stands guard 24-7 for our most vital organs. These bones and their equally important intercostal cartilage do a great service and, when they're out of whack, you know it. For better or worse, I have no rugby analogy to help understand this particular healing process. All I can say is that for now, I have a new awareness of how everything thing from my tail bone to my head connects. A good
metaphor? Though my spirits are mostly high and my muscles starting to calm down, I'm still not a pretty sight getting in and out of a chair or attempting to pick things up. You know you're in trouble when people 3 times your age are helping you reach for something you've dropped. Well folks, looks like Kellea will be slowing down for a bit.
8. FLEXIBILITY
Physical, mental, emotional, geographical... The works. (Thanks, Scott, for helping on the physical front. Once I'm back up and running, I swear I'll be working those IT bands.)
9. THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
I
know I only saw snippets, between the Route 4 ride in North Carolina and Interstate 40 for much of the drive. Still, for someone who has traveled around the globe, this trip brought me closer to the nation I tend to leave rather than explore.
This is the America I am learning to love. The complicated, dirty, upside-down, "over-fed and under-nourished," historically and presently bloody, bold, daring, polyglot (if mostly thanks to immigrants, arguably pillars of our citizenry and economy), multi-ethnic, multi-national (yes, I'd say we're a multi-national nation), open, generous, hopeful and absolutely breathtaking America.
10. MY DAD AND DIANNE
This is public space, so I'll save the mushy stuff for offline. Still, I would be remiss if I did not share a little about Dianne's amazing "central command." Di carried our aspiration and
disappointments with open arms, enthusiasm and understanding. This ride would not have been possible without her. She organized the blog and fundraising effort, offered endless love and support to us, and even convinced Dad to take a helmet along. (He did wear it... for at least two whole days.)
Then there is Dad. Rafe Miller, man of mystery and the great outdoors. He was the first to take me backpacking, to force me onto a bike (rather late in life), and to instill a love of wide open country. As Bonnie Raitt croons, "Yes the road is in my blood, 'cause I'm my daddy's kid. You have to learn how to let me go, just like my mama did."
In 20 days, 60 meals and 15+ shared motel rooms, we never got sick of each other. He hasn't disowned me, and I think we just might understand each other. On this trip, I got to show him a bi
t of my world, staying with friends like Dorothy and explaining what I mean when I say I'm going to study sexual rights for the next five years. In turn, dad toured me through the part of the country that makes him come alive no matter how many times he's visited.

6. HUNGER
First, of course, I mean our voracious appetites. In just a day on the bikes, we were eating like

Once in the Green Turtle (the Volvo), Dad and I listened to Barbara Kingsolver's "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle." She describes North Americans as "the fattest people closest to starvation," because of the poor nutritional content of our huge diets. For good measure, I'll throw in hunger for good, locally grown and accessible food.
7. MY RIBS
Talk about taking for granted the structure that valiantly stands guard 24-7 for our most vital organs. These bones and their equally important intercostal cartilage do a great service and, when they're out of whack, you know it. For better or worse, I have no rugby analogy to help understand this particular healing process. All I can say is that for now, I have a new awareness of how everything thing from my tail bone to my head connects. A good

8. FLEXIBILITY
Physical, mental, emotional, geographical... The works. (Thanks, Scott, for helping on the physical front. Once I'm back up and running, I swear I'll be working those IT bands.)
9. THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
I
This is the America I am learning to love. The complicated, dirty, upside-down, "over-fed and under-nourished," historically and presently bloody, bold, daring, polyglot (if mostly thanks to immigrants, arguably pillars of our citizenry and economy), multi-ethnic, multi-national (yes, I'd say we're a multi-national nation), open, generous, hopeful and absolutely breathtaking America.
10. MY DAD AND DIANNE
This is public space, so I'll save the mushy stuff for offline. Still, I would be remiss if I did not share a little about Dianne's amazing "central command." Di carried our aspiration and

Then there is Dad. Rafe Miller, man of mystery and the great outdoors. He was the first to take me backpacking, to force me onto a bike (rather late in life), and to instill a love of wide open country. As Bonnie Raitt croons, "Yes the road is in my blood, 'cause I'm my daddy's kid. You have to learn how to let me go, just like my mama did."
In 20 days, 60 meals and 15+ shared motel rooms, we never got sick of each other. He hasn't disowned me, and I think we just might understand each other. On this trip, I got to show him a bi

More than that, we built an adventure together. We tested our mental and physical strength, adjusted to road closures, headwinds, flat tires and sore joints. We swapped stories, rode in silence, and fashioned new and unexpected memories. When I got hit, we decided together that we could not keep riding. He's not usually so public - i.e. as with the blog, the fundraising, etc. - but for a good cause we'd raised a bit of noise. The change was a tough one to swallow, knowing how many people were behind us. I am proud of him for shifting gears, proud that he was there for and with me, and proud of our trip and our relationship. As he says, "Let them know the ride is not over." Next time, there might be more family members along, but the adventure will continue...
Thursday, May 1, 2008
THE JOURNEY HOME

PUEBLO HOUSE IN TAOS, NEW MEXICO

BALCONY HOUSE IN MESA VERDE, COLORADO

OURAY, COLORADO
SOAKING IN THE HOT SPRINGS
GOOD FOR KELLEA'S SORE BODY!


A SHORT HIKE IN
BRYCE CANYON, UTAH

RAFE GETS BACK ON THE
BIKE IN ZION, UTAH
KELLEA SADLY GETS LEFT BEHIND.............

KELLEA REDISCOVERS BEER
SERIOUS BUSINESS FOR 2!!!
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Environmental Justice in Memphis

Hello, hello. I'm writing from a Best Western in Santa Rosa, NM. The sun is rising and we're getting ready to spend a few days in Dad's beloved South West.
This change of gears has finally started to set in. Many of you have written the kindest notes or called with encouragement. I can't say how much these words have meant to us as we re-start and consider ways to carry forward the original intentions of this trip.
Our stay in Memphis with a wonderful and feisty Dorothy Abbott (seems we were bound to stay with feminists after all!) provided a perfect transition. We spent hours at the moving Civil Rights Museum,
which conclude at the very balcony where MLK was shot 40 years ago. Dorothy, who was 19 in Memphis when the shooting occurred, added vivid memories to this glimpse into a part of our particularly American history.
We also toured Dorothy's church, 1st Congregational Church or "1st Congo," a mecca for Memphis social justice organizations, including a rocking bike co-op that made me a little sad not to be on 2 wheels. (The gap between wishing I were riding and my walking-like-a-90-year-old slowness reminds me again that long days on the bike are simply not a possibility yet. Alas. Dad's been very patient.)
In addition to a media co-op, hostel, fair trade market, ACORN and many other great organizations, First Congo houses an environmental justice group, Defense Depot Concerned Citizens Committee. DDCCC is asking for a clean-up of the nearby naval dump site that has leached toxic chemicals into the primarily African American community that is close by. The
group started when parents demanded answers for their young kids' testicular and ovarian cancer. As Anthony, our garrulous tour guide (who later did a little shimmy in front of the belly dancing studio where rape survivors can find healing through movement), said, "For these parents, it wasn't a question of waiting for the government. They lived and breathed the injustice and came together for their own survival."
Cancer is everywhere. Yet, Breast Cancer Action and the Lymphoma Foundation of America, the two groups we chose to support in this journey (no longer just a ride), are questioning the systems that cause and respond to cancer. They ask how everyone, rich, poor, White, Black, Asian, Latino (pick your identity), can have the care they need to survive the disease. What sort
of health care, social services and awareness make cancer survival possible?
We must also ask the question of who is exposed to toxins that cause cancer. The rich and burgeoning Environmental Justice movement highlights the links between race and toxic exposure, showing that communities like those outside the Depot site are the norm, not the exception. Race plays a large factor in communities' exposure to chemicals that accelerate or even cause cancer. As a nation that can afford to spend billions (now trillions?) on a war abroad, shouldn't we be able to find the resources to ensure every member of this nation can experience the RIGHT to a clean and safe environment?
Finally, I leave you with a heartening message from the Lymphoma Foundation when they learned about my accident:
This change of gears has finally started to set in. Many of you have written the kindest notes or called with encouragement. I can't say how much these words have meant to us as we re-start and consider ways to carry forward the original intentions of this trip.
Our stay in Memphis with a wonderful and feisty Dorothy Abbott (seems we were bound to stay with feminists after all!) provided a perfect transition. We spent hours at the moving Civil Rights Museum,

We also toured Dorothy's church, 1st Congregational Church or "1st Congo," a mecca for Memphis social justice organizations, including a rocking bike co-op that made me a little sad not to be on 2 wheels. (The gap between wishing I were riding and my walking-like-a-90-year-old slowness reminds me again that long days on the bike are simply not a possibility yet. Alas. Dad's been very patient.)
In addition to a media co-op, hostel, fair trade market, ACORN and many other great organizations, First Congo houses an environmental justice group, Defense Depot Concerned Citizens Committee. DDCCC is asking for a clean-up of the nearby naval dump site that has leached toxic chemicals into the primarily African American community that is close by. The

Cancer is everywhere. Yet, Breast Cancer Action and the Lymphoma Foundation of America, the two groups we chose to support in this journey (no longer just a ride), are questioning the systems that cause and respond to cancer. They ask how everyone, rich, poor, White, Black, Asian, Latino (pick your identity), can have the care they need to survive the disease. What sort

We must also ask the question of who is exposed to toxins that cause cancer. The rich and burgeoning Environmental Justice movement highlights the links between race and toxic exposure, showing that communities like those outside the Depot site are the norm, not the exception. Race plays a large factor in communities' exposure to chemicals that accelerate or even cause cancer. As a nation that can afford to spend billions (now trillions?) on a war abroad, shouldn't we be able to find the resources to ensure every member of this nation can experience the RIGHT to a clean and safe environment?
Finally, I leave you with a heartening message from the Lymphoma Foundation when they learned about my accident:

Friends and family, thank you again for your love and support.
Over and out,
Kellea
Kellea
Friday, April 25, 2008
CHANGING GEARS... Message from Kellea

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 bes
t 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.

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 com
plete 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
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