Did you know the state used to be it’s own country, and that Texas is the only state in which the state flag can be flown at the same height as the American flag? It’s true. They also use the state flag on shower curtains, truck mud flaps, coffee mugs, various sizes of panties, Bible covers, swimming pools (the pool being the shape off the state), food items such as cookies and meatloafs, door knobs, coffee tables and basketball courts (the state is currently lobbying the National Basketball Association to have the rules changed in order to fit the proposed geometry)…Yes, Texans are very proud of the shape of their state. And though the concept of state pride is foreign to those of us who live elsewhere, as somebody born and raised Texan, I do find myself endeared by the people back home.

There is no question we have been treated well here. Our host homes across the state have done everything possible to make us comfortable and happy. To us, luxury involves a bed and a shower, so we are easy to please. But these folks have gone over the top. A church near Dallas called The Oaks Fellowship helped raise more than 10,000 dollars that will go toward building many wells in sub-Saharan Africa. Our message is being heard and is being passed along with equal enthusiasm and import. Thanks Texas. We will carry you in our hearts as we move into Louisiana and Arkansas. And if anybody asks we will draw the shape of your state on a napkin because we all have it memorized. And if we forget what the shape of the state is, we will sneak away and look at it on our underwear.

While in Texas my mother and grandmother came up from Houston to visit the team. My mom brought the team gifts including stickers shaped like Texas. And my grandmother brought a map of the United States and she had circled many of the small towns where we had stayed. Amazingly, we had never pulled out a map to see where we had been. We’ve been too busy pedaling to the next town to even think about the fact we were crossing the country. All of us were amazed as we filled in some of the missing cities to see exactly how far we had traveled. None of us can believe it. We’ve gone more than 1500 miles. Nearly half the map is covered. And we still have four more weeks of pedaling to go. I intend to have the team sign that map when we are done, then scan it in so people can have copies, then give the original back to my grandmother. She will love that.

Here are some more hi-lights from Week Three:

Our First City Ride: Dallas was the location of our first city ride. We joined up with the Cow Creek Classic, a large ride that includes a ten-mile trek, nineteen miles, thirty-six miles, forty-nine miles and a century. More than 1500 cyclist rode, and about 150 of those specifically registered for the blood-water ride. That is a huge turn out for us. Registration and t-shirt sales allow us to build several wells in Africa! Thanks riders. And it was a great ride. We’d ridden into a headwind the previous day, so many of us opted for shorter rides. Some of the team did the 75-mile ride just to make up for lost miles due to illness or injury, but most of us took the day off. For me, it was the first time I’ve realized how much better shape I’ve gotten into on the ride. I’ve lost nearly 20 pounds on the ride and am definitely a stronger cyclist. Without trying, we passed nearly everybody on the trek. And thirty-six miles literally felt like a warm-up. Even the hills came easy.

Like I said, we weren’t trying to go fast on the ride. The truth is we needed the day off to rest our muscles. But at one point I passed a couple guys who were clearly racing. They were drafting each other into a headwind. I think one of the guys got ticked cause I passed them and so sped up to get in front of me. I know what he was thinking, “no way I’m getting passed by a chubby dude on a bike that looks like a fixie”…so he passed me and we immediately started up a hill. So I decided to get into his head a bit and just drafted right behind him up the hill. He was moving slowly by the top, breathing really heavy in his decked-out spandex and spendy bike. So I pulled up next to him, breathing softly through my nose, looked over and said “Man, headwinds make it harder, don’t they?” He could hardly respond he was breathing so heavy. “It’s windy!” He said. “Yeah,” I responded. “It’s windy. I’ll see you later, though, okay.” And then I took off. It was awesome. Arrogant, but awesome. I promise not to do it again. But I confess I am hoping I still have a few pounds to lose after the tour because I want to go back to Portland and get behind some racers and then pass them, asking “which button makes the bike go faster?”

Fandangle: One of the greatest days of the tour happened this week. We were riding from Anson, Texas to Brad, Texas and passed through the town of Albany. We rode off the rest of the caprock into the hills and sped through what seemed to be a small, perfect oasis of a town. I was surprised I’d never heard of Albany as we passed through. The town-square with its shops and galleries was perfect and I felt like I was suddenly transported into New England. Even though it was a Thursday, the town was out on the lawn in front of the courthouse, having a barbecue and preparing for a parade that evening. Patriotic streamers were out and shopkeepers had goods on the sidewalk. Jessica Abt and I were riding sweep that day so we rode slowly through town, hoping to see the rest of the team had stopped to enjoy the atmosphere. But we didn’t see anybody, so we kept riding into the hills outside of town. I confess I felt a little sad to have sped through the town without enjoying its New England meets Texas feel. But five miles out, we got a text saying we had missed the riders. They were all at the courthouse dealing with a ticket Drew had gotten for driving without a seatbelt. So we circled back and went back into Albany, where the team was sitting at tables in the square. A man named Jeff Jones had seen Project Rwanda Jersey’s (Tom Ritchey donated the jersey’s to us before we left) and had a friend who knew Tom and so decided to buy us all lunch. Thanks Jeff, and thanks again, Tom. Tom actually called that night so I was able to thank him once again for all the influence he is having.

Anyway, before eating, I crossed the street to talk to some locals. There was a feel about the town that made me want to set up an office and interview all 600 residents to mine the locals for stories. There is no question there are a thousand novels in Albany, Texas. The locals told me that Albany has more Princeton grads per capita than any other city, and that the local Art Gallery has a Picasso and a Renoir. And not only this, but each year the town puts on a musical called Fandangle, and that the musical would be performed that very night in the amphitheater on the edge of town. I think the show runs only a few times on a couple weekends and we happened to be there the night that it opened. Anyway, I crossed the street and told the team and they looked at me and rolled their eyes because they had already been there for an hour and had already heard. Oh well. So we rode out of Albany to Brad where we all stayed in a great farmhouse and then shuttled back to see Fandangle. 1500 people flood into Albany to see the show. The cast, all 300 participants, are locals, amateurs, who work hard to present a very colorful and celebratory musical about life in the south. The first act seems to be songs and stories from southern culture, then act two deals with the history of the area, including the rise of Ft. Griffin, the ranching era, the invent of the steam train and the oil boom. Then the evening closed with a sentimental thank you to all those who had participated in the musical for the last 70 years. The night really was magical. I couldn’t believe a small town had come together to create a musical. In the age of television in which we are cynics and critics, and consumers, Albany, Texas has chosen to create and to risk. Good stuff. Thanks, Albany.

We shuttled back to Brad, Texas where we slept in the farmhouse and were also allowed to sleep a little late. We only had about 50 miles the next day before being picked up and shuttled into Dallas. We enjoyed lying around in the morning and slowly eating breakfast, showering and getting packed.

We also had a small group time and in my small group Mike Barrow shared his life story. Jesse and Briane, Erin and Chriselda and I sat and listened to Mike share his heart and I can only say his story is beautiful and meaningful and inspirational. I think just hearing his heart and openness really drew our small group together. As we ride the miles, we are truly becoming family.

I would also say that was a highlight of week three, just getting closer to the team. We are in host homes here in Dallas, and while it is great to be in host homes, it is also very difficult to be away from the team. When you depend on one other for food, water and safety, it’s hard to even rest without your security blanket. We are moving from team to family. And family feels better.

While here in Dallas we were hosted by a church called The Oaks Fellowship. Paul and Candace Hurckman and their daughter Lola, pastors here at The Oaks have taken us in and treated us like their own family. Today, Monday, is our first day off on the tour. Not only did we not have to ride, but also we didn’t have meetings or presentations. We slept in, worked on our bikes, cleaned the trailer, updated blogs, returned e-mails. I go into week four feeling rested and ready.

The last hi-light of the week was hearing that this site alone has already raised enough money to build between three and four wells in Africa. More than ten thousand people will have access to clean water because of your contributions. I can’t thank you enough. On this ride, we are learning to love people we do not know, people we have not met. I do not know how to do this, except to apply some of the lessons we are learning on the ride to the work of social justice, namely, to wake up and do things you do not want to do for the benefit of those who are in need. In the end, love, I think, looks like work. The reward is not immediate, but it will come in hindsight. If you’ve not given to Blood:Water Mission yet, would you today? We’ve four weeks left on the ride, and hundreds more wells need to be built. Even one dollar goes a long way. Thanks for partnering with us. Thanks for loving those who you have not met. Thanks for donating.

Okay, the week in Pictures:

You should know that Bargo has climbed Mt. Mckinley then rode his bike from Alaska to Mexico so it was a stupid thing to challenge him but I figured I could kick him over when nobody was looking. But people kept looking. Anyway, he pulled ahead but then both of us realized it was not the border, so we slowed and the rest of the front pack caught us. Then we raced for eleven more grueling miles, Jessica, Joanne and Bargo pulling out front a few times, and Jesse and Brianne kindly getting me back into the race by allowing me to draft them back up to the front pack. But in the end, Bargo and Jessica took off and there was no catching them. And Bargo finally broke away and crossed the border first. It was good. He is a Texan. It needed to be a Texan.

We turned up the stereo at the border and took turns taking pictures in front of the sign. We sang country songs and called our parents and friends. We were in Texas. In this state we will cross our halfway point. We will have our first community ride. We will eat more barbecue than a person is supposed to. We will be treated with Southern hospitality everywhere we go. And we will climb no mountains. Thank God.

We are having a great time out here. Our bodies are feeling better. We are gelling as a team. Today we discovered a little town called Albany that is having a festival, so we are shuttling back to attend a musical and be entertained with the over 1500 other people who will show up at Fandangle. We loved the town as we passed through, and all of us are excited about going back.

Good night America. We are in your belly now. We are crawling cross your hills and we are seeing every bug, every dried up river bed, every closed shop, every crude pump and windmill, every cow bathing in every pond. Every staring cow, wondering what kind of cows we are, and how we could run so fast, and what we are running from.

Tuesday had us climbing even further, from around 4,000 feet to nearly 8,000 feet. Tuesday was a tough day for everybody. We started out with some small rolling hills, then hit a six-mile 6% grade before lunch. Jesse made the rest of the ride optional, and several people opted out. Opting out isn’t a bad thing because we have to know our bodies and what they are capable of and whether or not we are risking long-term injuries. But I opted in and was rewarded with many miles of downhill into a town called Show Low.

In Show Low, one of our team members, Matthew Williams got a call from home and found out his father had been diagnosed with Lukemia. Matthew decided to book a ticket back to Lousiana and left our group the next day. And we miss him. Please keep Matthew and his father, Scott, in your prayers. We are hoping Matthew will be back in the next couple weeks.

On Wednesday we rode from Show Low to Quemado New Mexico. I think Wednesday was the first day when my spirit was pretty low. I was just tired of being on the bike. My wrists were killing me and I’d developed Tennis Elbow. It isn’t the big pains, the muscles or energy level, it’s the little irritating pains that break you down. Eight and nine hours on a bike wear on you after several days. But I finished the day, and was thankful for a massive downhill into Quemado. In Quemado, we were greeted by a pastor named Ira, and he and some ladies in his congregation made us an amazing dinner. We felt like it was thanksgiving. I am salivating even thinking about it.

As we travel, we meet so many people and all the walls are immediately down. We lay around in the shade and take naps on porches of grocery stores and do thing we would never have done back home. Because of this, we meet remarkable and friendly people. Especially in smaller towns, where we immediately become the biggest thing that has happened in weeks. One of the more remarkable people we’ve met was Ira, the pastor from Quemado. He is a people person. He loves to serve and to provide for those in need. He pastors a small church and is also the fireman. He told me a story about how when Katrina hit the government sent hundreds of refugee’s to his small town. His church put out cots, 400 of them in the school gym. Then Ira asked his congregation to stand along a wall in the gym, and loudly announced to the refugees that if anybody wanted to feel the tangible love of God they could come up and hug a member of his congregation. Ira said the response was nothing short of a stampede, as all 400 people stood in line just to get a hug. God I almost started crying when he told me that story. I think part of the reason I was a little sentimental is because we were all so hungry and so tired, and he and his people had decided to feed us. He was showing us God’s love the whole time we were there. He even escorted us out of town the next morning with his fire-truck. Thanks Ira. We miss you already.

On Wednesday we got a much-needed break. It was a long day, over 100 miles, but much of it was downhill. It still took about eight hours, but we didn’t have to climb very much. And also, Jesse decided we’d stop at a town called Pie Town and eat at their only café, which serves pies. So at nine in the morning we invaded Pie Town, roughly tripling their population. And eating all the rest of their pies.

While in the Pie Town café we met a man named Paul Kates. Paul is hiking the continental divide. He’s 62 and a widower and since his wife died a few years ago he has hiked more than 7,000 miles. He talked about her so fondly, and he told us hiking was something they did together. You could tell that he walked all those miles as a way of being with her. And he even told me so. He said hiking was when he felt her presence the most, and found himself warmed by her memory.

On Wednesday night we slept in Socorro, New Mexico. We were hosted by a wonderful pastor named Raquelle. She’s a Navajo Native American who loves the lord and associates the Fathers goodness with His creation. When she prays, she lifts her hands and calls out to “Our Creator.” We had a wonderful, quiet conversation with her about Native-American spirituality and their fondness for nature. She gave us a great deal to think about as we continued pedaling through the beauty of New Mexico.

Thursday had us battling a headwind for 85 miles. It was, for me, the roughest day physically. Mentally it was challenging as well as it felt like the obstacles would never let up. But the day had a great ending. Perhaps the best ending to a day so far. I am going to post a blog about that specific day later in the week, so keep looking for that.

Then on Friday we pedaled into the mountains, and on Saturday we made it to Roswell, visiting the Alien Museum and then moving out of town into the desert about fifteen miles to cut out fifteen miles on Monday. So that was our week in words. Here is the week in pictures:

We are in the middle of week three, but I wanted to tell you a funny story from the end of Week Two. Friday of last week we rode from Socorro New Mexico to Capitan New Mexico, about 95 miles away. It was a day of errors and adventure for me that had a great ending. I left town a few minutes early knowing the next person to leave would catch me because I was waking up slow. But I ended up turning the wrong way on a street and found myself on the opposite side of town.

I realized I had made a mistake and headed back through town to catch New Mexico One out of town. I went about four miles before checking my map, which is when I realized I had gone the wrong way again. I went back to town and asked a gal at the gas station which way to go and she said my map was wrong and I had gone the right way in the first place. So I headed back down New Mexico One, only I was a good ten miles behind the pack. The problem with this is that Friday was a desert day and if I missed water drops I could have easily gotten into trouble, especially since we had no cell reception all the way to Capitan.

Anyway, I was fortunate in that Jesse and Brianne had a flat and I ended up catching them an hour later. That was the good news. The bad news was the first 40 miles after catching the back end of the group were a light uphill climb into a headwind. It was literally as hard as climbing a 6% grade for forty miles. At one point I was on flat ground, standing and grinding to get up to 7 miles per hour. It was going to be a long day. Much of the group stopped at lunch and wisely decided to rest their bodies in the van because we had another long ride the next day. Plus we were all running very late. But I decided to give it a try, and for a while was rewarded. We climbed a steep road and then dropped for ten miles or so into the other side of the mountain range. But after the downhill the wind picked up again for the next ten or so miles.

So by the time we got to a town about 20 miles from our destination, I was done. Literally, my body couldn’t go much further. And we still had a twenty-mile ride ahead, including 8 or so miles into the wind, and then a mountain climb up to Capitan. I had no intention of doing it until Jesse and a group of girls decided to try it. I watched them take off and realized I had to give it a go. I ended up riding about five miles before getting off my bike. I really didn’t think I could do it. I called a friend and told him that I think I might have to get in the van. It would be the first time I’ve gotten in the van yet (save a two mile drive when I had a flat and the sun had gone down and they wouldn’t let me ride anymore) but I was fine with it. I knew I would be worthless the next day if I tried the climb.

But I got saved! By a hail storm.

So for the last hour or so, pedaling into the wind, a storm had been brewing up in the mountains. Dark clouds were coming out of the canyons and I could see sheets of rain falling into a distant valley. Where I was, I could see for many miles, tomorrows weather, it seemed. But the storm started coming in more quickly and I knew it was going to get close to me. Still, it looked as though the storm were going to pass in front of me and allow me to come in behind it.

Just when I figured I might make it through, a mini-van passed me and I heard it slowing and stopping behind me. I got off my bike and turned to see the van turn around and come back toward me. At first I thought they were just coming to see if I needed a ride to escape the rain, at which point I would have explained to them that I didn’t, because I thought it would pass before me. But the van didn’t stop. It raced by me at full speed as though running from something. Then I noticed that three more cars were turning around, and then I noticed why. There was a giant sheet of white hail pounding the asphalt about two-hundred yards down the road behind me. I’d never even noticed that storm because I’d been watching the one ahead. Hail was cracking against the asphalt and it was as though a curtain of white-rocks was heading my way, almost as quickly as the cars were running from it. I looked around and there wasn’t anything I could get under to protect myself from the storm. There wasn’t a tree or a building or anything. I was in the worst possible spot.

So I stuck out my thumb and waved to try to get a ride from the cars running from the storm but nobody stopped. The cars were seriously gunning it to get away from the hail. And then the storm hit, and the hail came down so hard I felt like a thousand guys were hiding in trees shooting b.b. guns at me. The ice was cracking against my helmet and my hands that were covering my face.

The only structure near me was a wooden-ranch fence so I dropped the bike and started running for the fence (seriously, as though hiding under a horizontal piece of one-inch thick wood would have done anything) and just then a couple guys flew off the road and through the ditch and stopped their car between me and the fence. They threw open the back door and I jumped into the car. It was two hispanic men and as I shut the door the hail storm got worse and began pounding the top of the car. It was coming down so hard we couldn’t even talk, and I remember thinking that any minute the glass windows were going to shatter. After about a minute, I thanked the guys and realized they didn’t speak any english. We worked through broken spanish and english to laugh a little and they definitely knew I was grateful.

Then I realized that I was sitting snug into a child’s seat. No kidding. I was sitting in a baby seat in the middle of a field speaking broken spanish. A great ending to a great day. After the storm let up, we got my bike out of the ditch and put it in the trunk. The guys were going to run me into town. But then Gregg and Drew came up in the van. Gregg captured some of that on video. So here is the clip. In the end, an awesome adventure. Plus, I didn’t have to climb that mountain! I got off on a technicality. So I still haven’t ridden in the van, officially. Of the 1033 miles in week one and two, I’ve ridden about 1030 of them. We will see if i can last through week three

I am sitting in my friend Jordan and Mindy’s living room, just having woken up on Sunday morning. Last night we pedaled from Hope Arizona to Anthem, right outside Phoenix. The day started at 3:30 in the morning and ended fairly dramatically as the small group that made it in before sunrise pedaled into the church as the sun went down behind the mountains, exploding in as much heat as color. There was a group on the sidewalk as we turned the corner. Only six miles before, Jesse and Briane, Mike Barrow and I were leaning against a railing discussing the fact that we didn’t think we had the energy to bike the last few miles of our all-day journey. But somehow we made it happen. Mike brought us in on a long, last downhill (Thank God) and we had survived the first week of our epic journey. Add to that my friends Jordan and Mindy were on the corner with the small crowd, and I can’t tell you how great it was to see their faces. Or to know they would feed us and give us a bed.

We have been told the first two weeks are the hardest weeks of the tour. Week one was certainly hard. But it was doable. The adrenalin of starting the ride lasted a few days, then on about day four (110 miles) I began to realize that I was going to be riding this bike for a long, long time. Much longer than I ever realized. Essentially, I will be living on my bike. I will eat cereal, read the paper and watch television on my bike. I will get married and have children on that bike.

Some personal hi-lights:

• Riding through the streets of Los Angeles, dodging traffic, stopping at the walk of fame, the entire team together.

• Deciding not to hitch a ride and to finish day one in the mountains. Aaron Smith caught a ride up to us and finished the last climb with me. He stayed behind me and just talked as I pedaled. He talked about what a great trip it was going to be, how proud he was that I was doing the climb. And after about an hour we crested the summit and topped out at 42 miles per hour down the windy road into Palmdale.

• Convenient stores. Previously I thought convenient stores attached to gas stations were dirty and smelly and to be avoided. But I was wrong. They are beautiful shops filled with cold things and wonderful fashions including t-shirts with wolves howling at the moon. They are air conditioned and filled with friendly people and if nobody is looking you can go to the back isle and lay your hot sweaty body on their cold dirty floor, or you can crawl in under the beer in the freezer and take a nap. When I get home I am going to sell the condo and buy one of these places and live in it.

• Joshua Tree: We rode out of 29 palms an because we had a downhill I broke away from the lead group a bit. I ended up thirteen miles out and was running out of water. I hadn’t seen a sign of civilization (or a tree for that matter) for thirty miles and had run out of water. I rounded a corner and saw a truck coming toward me and waved my water bottle at the truck. The guy stopped and pulled out a cooler of ice water and filled both my bottles and my camel back. I got back on my bike and kept pedaling and made mile 50 within three hours of having left. That was a great morning. Add to that I cheated and pulled out my I-pod shuffle and listened to the Joshua Tree Album while pedaling through Joshua Tree. I prayed and asked God to not let me get caught listening to my i-pod (we aren’t allowed for safety reasons. It’s a very good rule, actually) but the van came up behind me (I didn’t hear it for some reason) and I got caught. Luckily I am still allowed to ride with the team. But I am on probation.

• Completing my first century. It was awesome.

• Completing my second century. It was kind of awesome, but I think these things are overrated now.

• The team: I can’t tell you how much I enjoy each member of the team. Nobody gets on my nerves. These are truly great people. Very laid back, fun, hard working and thoughtful. We are having terrific conversations. So good.

• Having our van fixed in Los Angeles. THANKS THANKS THANKS FOR YOUR HELP

• The Diamondback Game. Today, the Arizona Diamondbacks have given us a suite at the game against Kansas City. That is huge for us. We’ve been roughing it for a long time and this is a great treat as we wrap up week one and move into week two. I can’t wait.

Some unfortunate lowlights:

• The doping controversy: As you know, cycling and steroids have had a long, dark relationship. Our team is, unfortunately, no exception. Each day we are drug tested and on Wednesday of last week several of our team members tested positive. After a long, last sprint to the finish tuesday, the team suspected that Mindy Gunter was doping and sure enough that evening she tested positive. And last night Mike Barrow found uncommon strength at the end of the ride in order to finish first on the longest ride of the year. Mike is fifty-five and so we made him pee in a cup.

Do pray for us and the steroid controversy as it has the potential to ruin the team and negatively affect our campaign. Also, if anybody has a testing kit we could really use one. Right now we just hold the cup up to the light and smell it and swish it around like a glass of wine. Then we go with our gut.

Okay, pics from week one: