It is late Sunday evening, and a number of Sea to Sea cyclists are hanging out on the phenomenal patio area that, if the sun were still shining, overlooks a fabulous view of tributaries/rivers/bodies of water that extend to the Pacific Ocean. There are hazy mountains in the distance, and I must say, The University of Washinton is a kick-ass campus. The buildings are old and bricklayed, although there is not any ivy climbing the walls.
Everyone is taking their last deep breath before tomorrow.

There is a very familiar feeling to this laissez-faire attitude. I feel like I'm back at college, hanging out until all hours of the morning, just shooting the shit. Except that is is only 11p.m. and people are starting to move to their achingly hot bedroom. 6 bells rings early, and tomorrow, we start the tour.

The college feeling is compounded by the fact that there are approximately 12 students or former students from good ole King's College, and that forms an easy aquaintance between us, and the various other folks we are meeting. A good friend who rode the tour in 2005 told me that there were a number of cliques that people quickly fell into; whether by speed, age, or other association. We've had a couple of comments about that, and the group certainly isn't static, but I do hope that I have enough courage and gumption to continue seeking out new people.

It was a bit of a difficult thing yesterday, when, all of a sudden, people whom you had been reading through the email, were met, face to face. We had a "meet'n'greet" where you are just going up to strangers, breaking into circles, and trying to get to know one another. Being an almost exclusively dutch crowd, the bingo was a flyin' around. But, I have a tendency to gravitate to the familiar in such situations, which makes meeting new people a very hard thing indeed.

But 24 hours has already done alot in terms of helping the group, as a whole, to gel. Or, it has caused the mini-groups to gel a lot easier.

I haven't been on my bike for a week now, and yet I'm surprisingly un-flusted about the ride tomorrow. My disbelief has not waned, even though the meetings, both large and small have definately started. I have a 14" by 3' cubby hole in which to store my things, and a duffle bag with my sleeping arrangements loaded in the gear truck. I've checked out the kitchen truck, and had a bike safety training course. I don't know what will make it any more real, but I haven't hit this moment of wonderment. My fear is, as yet, held at bay, and I don't know what to make of it. None of it feels real.

There was a celebration rally today; a gathering of the Christian Reformed and Reformed Church of America. And while the talking was a little drawn out there were a few very powerful moments. There is a man who is riding, from the pacific to the atlantic, who used to be in a wheelchair due to Multiple Sclerosis. He told us there would be 1 450 000 pedal strokes between here and Jersey City. Oh boy.

All in all it is a full and fun atmosphere. Tomorrow to bike. We'll just have to see how that goes.