Chris Bombardier, a 27 year old with hemophilia B from Denver, Colorado, became the first person with hemophilia to summit Mt. Aconcagua, the highest peak in the Americas. This is his second summit in his bid to be the first person with hemophilia to climb the Seven Summits, the highest peaks on each continent. This is historic!
He climbed to raise awareness of hemophilia globally, and also to raise money for Save One Life, the international sponsorship nonprofit I founded in 2001. Chris also serves on our board of directors. He is an adventurer, outdoorsman, and just one of the nicest people you could ever meet. LA Kelley Communications was proud to support his climb.
He finished off his great adventure with a visit to the Argentina hemophilia society, a group I had met in 2003 when I visited. It is one of the oldest hemophilia organizations in the world.
Here are some of Chris’s postings from his blog, “Adventures of a Hemophiliac.” And look at the photos below to see Chris at the summit holding the photo of Brian, from Zimbabwe, a photo which drew deep responses from our fans on Facebook. We are trying to secure medical aid for Brian.
February 7, 2013
Day 10 of the climb … Today is a carry day for acclimatization for Camp 2 up to 17,800 feet! This trip should take about 6 hours after which the night is spent back down at Camp 1. So far the weather has been outstanding! The climb today was hovering right around the mid-20’s with very little wind and a cloudless sunny day. Couldn’t ask for better weather! After camp tonight, the crew will make the trek up to Camp 2 again and sleep there. It’s predicted to be another perfectly sunny day,
with just a few snowflakes over night.
Rest day and camp one 32.6380S,69.9771W
We are reporting in from 5000m at camp one. We tried to send a dispatch yesterday but had some technical issues so sorry about
that. Most of yesterday was spent relaxing, with a little bit of a poker tournament
in the dining tent. We had a good climb up to camp one today and we are
lounging in the tents. It is very hot here right now as there is no wind at the
moment. To the east there are some clouds building in the wonderful blue sky.
Our plan is to do a carry to camp two tomorrow. We are excited to be up here
making our way higher into the awesome Andes Range.
Seems like everything is on track and on schedule, so we can expect summit day to be within the expected range of Saturday-Monday, Feb 9-11!
Camp Two 32.6301S,70.0014W
It has been quite a couple days since our last dispatch. We moved up to camp two yesterday and it was just in time, as the weather closed in and the snow began. The snowfall continued all night for the most part. In fact the weather outlook for the next few days is off and on snow, but if we get a clear windless morning we can push for the top. So tonight we have one more day sleeping at 5500m and tomorrow morning we will climb up to high camp at 6000m and be in position. We will update as soon as we make the next move!
February 8Summit Push is On! 32.6370S,70.0183W
We are in camp 3, Colera camp at 6000m, yoo-hoo. The plan is to go for the summit in the morning. There is a lot of snow on the route, but we will
team up with several other groups to kick in a route, and hope the weather stays stable long enough for us to sneak up there to the summit before predicted strong winds begin in the upcoming days. Follow tomorrow for the news!!!
Sounds like we may have some news tomorrow about the summit!! Let’s hope the crew gets some good rest tonight, and that the weather cooperates. The forecast estimates a high of 0 degrees at the top, with a wind chill of -24°!! Wind should be around 20 miles per hour with some snow showers.
February 9 Summit!Chris holds photo of Brian of Zimbabwe at the summit
(From Jessica, Chris’s girlfriend) According to the
schedule, they allowed a few extra days for weather and acclimatization, and
I’m not sure if the first part of the guides’ post meant that they were going
to try to summit again the next day, or if they were going to post more
information the next day. Since they did have some extra days available in
their schedule, they may have stayed at Camp 3 an extra night to allow for a
second attempt at the summit. Either way they should have started their descend
by now, and will camp in Plaza de Mulas base camp the first night (13,780
feet). From the summit at 22,840 feet, that’s a 9,060 foot elevation change in
one day! The route to this camp is well traveled by many and should be an easy
path. After they reach Plaza de
Mulas, they will hike out the Horcones Valley to Pentitentes in a single day. Hopefully
we will know more soon!!
February 11: Quick Summit Update
Extremely sorry for the delay, the rest of the summit update has not happened due to a number of reasons including, missing charge cords, extreme wind, mudslides on the road back to Mendoza, and some other interesting side notes. It was an awesome time up there. We had 9 out of 10 clients and guides summit on a great, only slightly windy day. Chris, David, Benedicte, Gaute, Thomas, Alexander, and Rolf all summited with Ryan and Koky on a cloudless summit. We are very ready for a steak and a beer, so good night from Mendoza!
From Jessica: Chris called this morning to let everyone know that he is feeling great, albeit exhausted, and had a blast!! He can’t wait to share all
of his stories and pictures with his family and friends who so devotedly followed him on this expedition!
February 12: Fundación de la Hemofilia de la Argentina
Chris with members of the Fundacion de la Hemofilia
Just visited with the wonderful people at Fundacion
de la Hemofilia de la Argentina! It was a wonderful experience exploring the
treatment center and learning about hemophilia in Argentina! I can’t wait to
get home tomorrow and share all of my stories and pictures!
A very special week in Hemophilia Adventure History! On Tuesday, Chris Bombardier, a 27-year-old Colorado man with severe factor IX deficiency, sets out to climb Aconcagua, a 22, 847 foot mountain located in northern Argentina, near the border of Chile. It is the highest mountain in the Americas, and is part of Chris’s unprecedented Seven Summits climb. Unprecedented because no one with hemophilia has bagged all seven summits—the highest mountains on each of seven continents.
Why is Chris doing this? How dangerous is it?
“Obviously I hope to summit,” the Denver native told me in a recent telephone interview. “I also hope to raise greater awareness of hemophilia globally. Most people in the States don’t even know about hemophilia; think about how little is known worldwide. I think having someone with hemophilia pushing the limits is a cool story in itself, but I hope it raises awareness of the discrepancy in treatment.”
Chris knows something about that. He sits on the board of the nonprofit I founded, Save One Life, which is dedicated to assisting individuals in poverty with hemophilia in developing countries. He also has helped establish a blood testing lab in Eldoret, Kenya.
“Physically, I feel good, strong,” says Chris, an avid mountaineer and adventurer. Chris already has knocked off one summit: Kilimanjaro in Tanzania, when he climbed in April 2011, becoming the first American with hemophilia to summit it. He is using a long lasting factor in experimental studies currently, which, he says, is working well. He plans to infuse on the mountain as needed.
Chris will be climbing with two guides and eight other climbers. Chris’s climb is being funded by LA Kelley Communications.
“We start the climb on Tuesday, January 29th with a hopeful summit day around February 7th or 8th, says Chris. “I posted a thorough itinerary of the climb on my new website and blog.” Chris also hopes that he inspires people to donate to Save One Life; while his climbing costs are covered, every penny he raises goes to helping run Save One Life, which serves over 1,000 people with hemophilia who live on about $1 a day.
While in Argentina, Chris also hopes to meet the Hemophilia Foundation of Argentina, one of the world’s first hemophilia nonprofits and one of the best run. Carlos Safadi, a lawyer with hemophilia who sits on its board, also serves on the executive committee of the World Federation of Hemophilia. Carlos writes, “It will be my pleasure to welcome Chris to the Foundation.”
Check out www.adventuresofahemophiliac.com to read more about Chris and his momentous climb! And show your support by making a donation in any amount to Save One Life! www.saveonelife.net
Great Book I Just Read
Buried in the Sky: The Extraordinary Story of the Sherpa Climbers on K2’s Deadliest Day [Kindle]
The worst accident in the history of climbing K2, the second highest mountain in the world but known as the most treacherous, happened on August 1, 2008, when 11 mountaineers from international expeditions died. What sets this true story apart from other mountain climbing stories is that it is told primarily from the sherpas’ point-of-view. The authors get inside the mind-sets of the sherpas who brought the many clients up the mountain that day; their lives from childhood are replayed, revealing their sterling character, and how most escaped dire poverty to become rock-stars of the climbing world. But the “goddess” of the mountain had other plans for the unlucky climbers: reaching the summit too late in the day, the return became a race against the dark, the cold when disaster struck. An avalanche buries the lead ropes, scattering the climbers, leaving some suspended upside-down all night long, others to walk over the edge, and still others to abandon their fellow climbers. It’s a tragic tale, masterfully told with great compassion and in-depth focus on each individual. Most fascinating to me were the many references to the Nepalese sherpas’ faith in the goddess of the mountain, and the Pakistani guides’ Islamic faith and how their faiths led them to assist the many climbers and other guides in trouble, putting their own lives at terrible risk. This story of heroism and yes, hubris, was a page-turner, and I finished it in two nights. Four/five stars.
At Thanksgiving last week, my family gathered for dinner and in swapping motorcycle and adventure sport stories with four of my six brothers, someone remarked about the “adrenaline junkies” in the Morrow family (my maiden name). True, but I reflected our hemophilia community has a few of those as well. This summer we watched Barry Haarde bicycle 3.677 miles across America to raise funds for Save One Life, my nonprofit that supports kids with hemophilia in developing countries. And we saw Eric Hill and Jeff Salantai of BioRx scale Pico Duarte, the highest peak in the Caribbean, to raise money for the Dominican Hemophilia Camp, which Save One Life supports.
And last year I summited Mt. Kilimanjaro with eight others, including Eric and Jeff, to raise over $66,000 for Save One Life. Now, Barry and I just jumped our of a plane last week at 18,000 feet, but we didn’ raise any money–it’s an idea, though!
But you don’t have to be an adrenaline junkie to help support a good cause. Try walking!
Bayer has just announced the winners of its virtual walk, a successful fundraising efforts to help hemophilia chapters and–I am grateful and proud to say– also Save One Life. (www.saveonelife.net) See below, register for next time and then… take a hike!
The 2nd Annual Virtual Walk for Hemophilia is proud to announce the top 5 participating local National Hemophilia Foundation (NHF) chapters who rallied the most virtual walkers!
First Place with $15,000 in sponsorship funds:
Arizona Hemophilia Association
Second Place with $10,000 in sponsorship funds:
Bleeding Disorders Alliance Illinois
Third Place with $5,000 in sponsorship funds:
Texas Central Hemophilia Association
Fourth Place with $2,500 in sponsorship funds:
Nevada Chapter, National Hemophilia Foundation
Fifth Place with $1,000 in sponsorship funds:
Nebraska Chapter, National Hemophilia Foundation
We, at Bayer, are delighted to provide these chapters with sponsorship funds to continue their hard work in supporting the bleeding disorder community.
Furthermore, we are privileged to present the National Office of the NHF in New York with $30,000 in sponsorship funds to assist them in continuing to improve and enhance the lives of those who live with bleeding disorders. And we were able to provide $7,000 in sponsorship funds to Save One Life, a non profit organization that offers the opportunity to sponsor a child or adult with a bleeding disorder in a developing country.
Thank you again for making this Virtual Walk possible!
I attended the annual National Hemophilia Foundation meeting from November 7-11,
as I have done since 1992 faithfully. As usual it was filled with interesting
sessions on treatment of hemophilia, attractive displays of company booths and
wonderful reunions with many friends and colleagues. But something new: in his
opening speech, NHF CEO Val Bias, a man with hemophilia and one of the foremost
advocates in helping to get the Ricky Ray Law passed, spoke about uniting our
communities globally. This is the first time I believe that NHF has shown a
targeted interest in helping the world’s 75% with hemophilia who have little or
no access to care.
Laurie with Nancy S., who has a child with VWD
This was exciting to me as I have been working to help the underprivileged with hemophilia since 1996. First with a leadership training program called
L.I.G.H.T., then a factor donation program called Project SHARE, still ongoing,
and my nonprofit Save One Life, which sponsors children overseas. I was
thrilled that NHF would bring its resources and brainpower to help those in
need.
Why not before now? Timing, focus. We have been through many phases: the contamination of the blood supply and subsequent infection of thousands occupied our time and focus for years. Then came product shortages. The inhibitors. Even NHF had its own problems internally and struggled to assess leadership (CEOs came and went) and structure. That seems behind us now. And with Val’s leadership and vision, NHF turned its powerful eye overseas, especially to Africa.
Val Bias and Neil Frick visited Nigeria in September, marking the first time that someone from NHF has been to Africa! I’ve been traveling there since 1999, when I first visited Zimbabwe and Kenya, and am returning on November 30. Finally, finally America is showing its leadership and true giving nature in joining the international community and participating in partnerships that will help
hemophilia nonprofits and its members in developing countries.
Meeting FB friends: With Liz Purvis and Tater!
Val has bigger plans: the 2016 NHF meeting will be held in Miami, and Miami was
also selected for the 2016 World Federation of Hemophilia biennial meeting.
This means that attendees to either meeting can also extend their visit and
join the other meeting. WFH gets about 4,000 visitors and NHF gets about 2,500.
This would potentially be the biggest meeting on hemophilia in history, and on
American soil.
I really applaud NHF becoming involved globally. The world needs it and it’s good
for us. I’ve always felt that we have more than enough to share, if we can just
find ways to do it. With NHF’s power, hemophilia care globally can progress at
a faster pace to reach more in need, an estimated 300,000 who suffer from this thoroughly
treatable disorder.
With Gary Cross (L) and Dana Kuhn, of PSI
And looking at all the photos from NHF here, I realize that almost evey person pictured either sponsors a child with hemophilia or VWD in a developing country through Save One Life or has contributed in some way to Save One Life or Project SHARE. From summiting Kilimanjaro to raise funds, to making handicrafts that support a child, to sponsoring one directly, Americans have already been uniting globally—and now can take pride that their national organization will as well.With Reid Coleman of NC
Emily Haarde surprises son Barry
At some point during our 50 mile ride last Monday, which would
complete Barry Haarde’s epic ride across America, I had to confess to him that
while I was pleased that I was keeping up with him, a world class athlete, at
his pace, I had only learned how to clip in my bike shoes two days prior.
Really.
I would not have done this ride at all if it were not for Barry’s insistence
that 1) I could do it, and 2) I had to do it as president of Save One Life, the
nonprofit I founded and the cause for which he just spent 49 days in a hard
saddle, cycling from the Pacific Ocean in Oregon to the Atlantic Ocean by noon
on August 6, raising about $35,000. Barry’s ride truly was epic: no one with
hemophilia, much less hemophilia/HIV, had even attempted this. Barry attempted
and was victorious. And I was so privileged to ride alongside him for the last
day.
Privileged but not worthy. I am such a cycling novice. Somehow,
Barry seemed to think that because I had summited Mt. Kilimanjaro last August
(if you read my blog from a year ago you know that I was pretty much dragged unwillingly
up that summit in the final 7 hours; the rest of the hike I did just fine), I was naturally going to be good at cycling. But my bike, an Orbea Diva, a very
expensive 50th birthday present to myself four years ago, scared me.
Yes, my bike scared me.
Its ultra light carbon frame, clip pedals and wacky gear shifting made it a totally different ride from the heavy, clunky but sturdy hybrid I had
been riding for years. When I first took the Orbea out for its maiden voyage, I turned to look behind me at traffic, in order to execute a quick U turn. I
promptly fell in the middle of Route 1 northbound in Rowley, Massachusetts—not a good place to be! I was mortified. I couldn’t get my darn feet out of the clips (you know something is bad when I say the word “darn”). I couldn’t get the feel of the bike; like a highly sensitive horse, the bike responded immediately to any slight shift in my body weight.
I couldn’t get the hang of the gearshift: what did the instruction manual mean by two clicks? I shifted gears like crazy, not knowing whether I was in
high or low or what. I rode the bike only twice that year, not enjoying either ride. I didn’t ride it at all the second year. My beauty hung on the garage
wall, ignored, like a forlorn trophy gathering dust. Last year I took it out a few times, scared, unsure and still not able to shift any gears. I marveled at the cyclists I saw, how they had mastered their steeds. I had little time to crawl back humbly to the bike shop and ask how to shift the gears. Soon, I told myself, soon.
.
Laurie and Barry about to set out
Then came Barry Haarde, with a wonderful idea to raise money for Save One Life. Barry was so taken with our cause, that he proposed something no one had ever done. Save One Life would raise the money with him, and support his trip. He joined America by Bicycle and 49 other cyclists, and embarked on a well defined route that would lead him to my backdoor, practically: Portsmouth, New Hampshire, just 20 minutes up 95 north from my house.
And he wanted me to join him that final day, to cycle 50 miles to dip our wheels in the Atlantic Ocean in victory.
But I was not worthy to wipe his clip-in bicycle shoes!
So I started rehearsing, mounting that feather light frame,
wobbling on razor thin tires, jamming my feet helter-skelter into the foot contraptions,
eventually snagging the pedals, and off I went. The most I ever cycled at one
time was 12 miles. My first venture of the day left me saddle-sore, bow-legged
and bruised badly. This is fun?
Undaunted, on Sunday, August 5, I waited for the cyclists to roll in, in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. And in they came: most of them were in their 50s and 60s, silver haired speed demons on a gorgeous
collection of elite machinery: hip clothes, excellent physiques, and not the least bit tired looking, despite having cycled 76 miles that day. Gulp.
Finally Barry coasted up to the Comfort Inn, where we waited with hugs for his achievement thus far. He had a wonderful, fantastical faith in my ability
to do the 50 miles the next day. Should I tell him now about the clip in shoe confession? Maybe I should tell him that I still couldn’t shift the front gears
at all. That might have an impact on my ability to climb hills. Nope. There were other things to do. Barry’s family had secretly flown all the way up from Orlando to welcome him and surprise him and we were keeping this a state secret. They had all checked in about 30 minutes before.
While Barry was upstairs getting settled in for the evening, his mom Emily, age 84, snuck down stairs and waited in the lobby armchair, just as cool as a cucumber, but giggling with anticipation. When Barry reappeared, he walked right by her, sat in an adjacent armchair and began speaking to me about the day’s road trip. The surprise was getting anticlimactic when the son didn’t recognize his own mother (who in all fairness was turned away from him watching the Olympics on TV). I eventually had to suggest that the nice lady in front of him might come to dinner… and then, what a sweet reunion! Barry had hoped his family would join him and so they did: brother, sister, nieces and cousins.
Dinner that night was a celebration and ceremony of the achievements of a diverse group. Barry was riding not only to highlight the plight of the
poor with hemophilia in developing countries and to raise funds, but also had been devoting each day in memory of someone who had died of hemophilia/HIV. This included his own brother and brother-in-law, whose photos he would wear on his back the next day, the final day. I would spent a lot of time on Monday staring at that back, staring at those wonderful men who passed away so young.
As we left the dining room, Emily, bringing up the rear, leaning on her cane for
Bagel Stop!
support, joked, “I’m the cow’s tail,” which made me turn and smile at her—this was a phrase I had not heard since my grandmother passed away in 1996. It was one of her favorite phrases. That phrase would dog me the next day.
Adrenaline was surging Monday morning! I hopped out of bed at 6 am, donned the very stylish cycling clothes. By 6:30 am we had gulped down many carbs at breakfast (oh my, could these guys eat) and straddled our bikes, ready to go. “Barry,” I timidly said, first confession about to seep out. “Could you check the air in my tires? The Orbea hasn’t been in the bike shop in… about four years.”
Oh yeah. It was at 20 pounds of pressure when it should have been 120 pounds.
Off we went! The day was cool, with thunderstorms predicted but which never emerged, thankfully. I was thrilled when we zipped away, over a
bridge, down the road. This was pretty easy.
Twenty minutes into the ride and I noticed I was really losing ground as Barry pulled away from me. Try as I might, I couldn’t recover. Wait—my bike was making an odd, rhythmic sound. Barry slowed down and I asked him about the sound. The front gear? I reached behind and squeezed my tire,
which was completely flat. A flat tire. Me. The interloper. Barry remarked he hadn’t had a flat tire in oh-about 2,000 miles, not since Wyoming. Me, 20
minutes into an historic ride.
We called the support van, which showed up immediately and changed the tire. This put us about 15 minutes behind everyone. What a difference when we began riding again! We zoomed along. Despite not being able to shift the front gear, it was permanently stuck in low gear, so I couldn’t manage any hills well.
By about 9 am we had our first pit stop (SAG, as they call them). Everyone gathered together, chowed down granola bars, peanuts, chips, fig newtons, oranges, replenished water bottles and joked about. Jeff and Al decided to switch bikes, not something recommended but after 3,600 miles, they must know what they are doing.
Off we went again; the miles passed easily and Barry and I enjoyed coasting by picturesque New England towns and back roads. Old Congregational
churches sporting white steeples, horses grazing in the fields, men fishing off bridges, rolling green hills and rich green trees. Barry couldn’t stop remarking about the lushness of New England compared to Texas, where he now lives. New Hampshire is a pretty state and typically New Englandish; it’s a state I turn to for adventure and fun. It’s here I go rock climbing and skydiving—and now cycling.
I confessed to him when I was feeling more cocky about my ability to master the clip in shoes just on Friday. Barry diplomatically didn’t comment.
The next pit stop seemed to come up quick: a bakery in downtown Exeter. Again? Really, guys? Bagels, donuts, coffee… I could have kept going
but it seems the team was eating its way across New Hampshire! Off we went again and this time no more stops…. So we thought.
The ride was going unbelievably well. Barry, having a rear view mirror attached to his helmet, knew the best times to pull alongside me and chat. Cycling is so much better when someone is along to chat with or pace you. I learned more about this remarkable man, the brother he lost, how he got
involved only since 2009 in the hemophilia community, how it took his brother’s death to push him to become a participant, then activist, and now, first person ever with hemophilia to cross the US by bicycle. With over 1,400 friends on Facebook, almost all related to hemophilia, Barry has become an icon in our community.
Barry announced my milestones: “Twenty-four miles, twice as long as your longest ride!” “Thirty-five miles…” and then “Just two miles to the
high school…” where we could congregate, do a group photo and then be escorted by New Hampshire’s Finest to the Atlantic Ocean at Wallis-Sands Beach for the wheel dipping ceremony.
And then disaster struck: Barry’s bike made a terrible noise and he pulled over to the shoulder, on a residential street with magnificent homes.
Only two miles from the “finish.” His chain had snapped. With characteristic Zen calm, he said, “That’s it. I’m done.” And then added ruefully, even smiling, “Figures. I’m always the underdog.”
I happen to like rooting for underdogs. He called the support vehicle, but wasn’t sure just where on the route we were. I thought it was North Street; Barry thought it was West street. The driver got the wrong street number and waited for us down the road somewhere. Precious minutes were ticking
by. At 11:45 am, with or without Barry, the team would cycle to the beach and dip their wheels. Barry just had to be there!
“Take my bike,” I begged. “It’s important that you finish!” But Barry patiently explained 1) it’s a girl’s bike (but it’s only 2 miles!) 2) the seat is too low (well, bend your knees!) 3) I can’t bend my knees due to arthritis (Oh. I felt stupid; all this time I never noticed that Barry couldn’t bend his right knee beyond 45 degrees. And he did this all across America on that knee?) 4) The seat is too low. (But…but….)
The support vehicle finally showed, and Mike, the driver, was none too pleased. Tension was mounting. He thought they couldn’t fix the chain in
time. Take my bike, please. Mike then took my bike, muttering “Where’s your personal support vehicle?” and jacked up the seat, as high as it would go, “without it snapping in two,” he warned. Barry sat on it; his feet couldn’t even clip in to the pedals. But off he went. It was amazing how fast he zipped off; before we even got into the van—with Mike frowning at an unregistered rider in the support van (me)—Barry was
just gone.
We drove in to the high school, begged everyone to stop the photo shoot to wait for Barry and what seemed like agonizing minutes was really only
about 5. Barry wheeled in, looking like a teenager riding a little kids’ bike. He got cheers and whoops from his own teammates, and a few jokes. Amazing victory; seriously, the Olympics held no greater charm for me than this sweet moment.
After the shoot, the police positioned their cars and everyone slowly cycled to the beach, an armada of wheels, helmets and great big smiles.
Al, the joker (every team has one) kept declaring, “I want to be last!”
But Al, someone shouted, Laurie is! “Aw, she doesn’t count!” he quipped. And I agreed; me, the cow’s tail, didn’t count. I only did 50 miles,
and these cyclists did over 3,677! 50 days to my one day!
A huge crowd was waiting at the beach, as they knew to expect the riders. People of all ages, applauding at their achievement! Present too were
Save One Life staff and Janie Davis of Baxter Healthcare (Baxter sponsored the ride) and even a few local families who so kindly came to give their support.
We dipped our wheels in the chilly Atlantic, amazed at how this day turned out. It seemed no obstacle, no matter how close to the finish, could
stop the incredible Barry Haarde. His mom, standing by his side in the brilliant sunshine, beamed. So proud of her son, as she should be. So was I; so were we all.
Congratulations to Barry Haarde and to all the cyclists that day; I do believe you don’t know who you are until you know what you can do, and
pushing yourself to near-extremes is one way that adrenaline junkies like Barry and me find out. I didn’t know I could do 50 miles on a bike I was afraid of. Barry didn’t know he could do over 3,677 having hemophilia, HIV, a half-useful knee. I think when you attempt feats with a purpose, a cause greater than yourself, a cause that helps others less fortunate, you find strength within, and resources within, you never knew could be possible.
And just to prove it, Barry pushed me some more. You’d think he’d want to rest after traversing the US? No way: 12 more miles the next day in Massachusetts; up to 6 am Wednesday to drive to Maine and do another 12 miles all along the gorgeous coast of York. I couldn’t think of a better way to share his victory. And I can’t wait to do the next ride with him.
Special thanks to Baxter Healthcare for sponsoring Barry’s ride! Thanks to all who donated!
Book I Just Read
The Road Less Traveled: A New Psychology of Love, Traditional
Values and Spiritual Growth by M. Scott Peck
An appropriate title to read after this road trip, but not nearly
as exciting. Written in 1978, the book explores the meaning of love through the
eyes of a psychoanalyst. Love, as he defines it, is a journey that helps
another grow spiritually. Peck delves into meanings of love and discipline,
expressions of love, and shares vignettes of how people overcame emotional
difficulties. He describes the difference between love and being “in love”—which
was well written. I read this in the 1980s and thought it was brilliant; rereading
it again, I now see it as dated, fairly academic and dry, and limited. Who can
really say what love is, when there are so many types of love? The first half of
the book is more about love and mental health and taking personal responsibility for navigating life—good stuff; the second part gets into spirituality, God,
science and Christian values. Some of his take on religion vs. science is a bit
head-scratching. I found the first half of the book more readable and useful
than the second half, which was muddled and lost focus. Two out of five stars.
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He climbed to raise awareness of hemophilia globally, and also to raise money for Save One Life, the international sponsorship nonprofit I founded in 2001. Chris also serves on our board of directors. He is an adventurer, outdoorsman, and just one of the nicest people you could ever meet. LA Kelley Communications was proud to support his climb.
