4 a.m. That was my wake-up call.

4 a.m., just mere hours after finally uploading Friday’s Tour story and getting to bed.

Why 4 a.m.? Well, the first flight out of Tri-Cities Airport in Bristol, TN, was at 6 a.m., and I wanted to be on it. You know — places to go (i.e., home), people to see (i.e., my family and 60,000 of our closest friends) and all that happy stuff.

To say we all had a great time on the Power Tour is an understatement. We drove through some outstanding scenery and on some of the greatest back roads I’ve ever seen, met lots of really nice folks, and ate some really good food. What more could you want?

The rig crew, those unsung heros who worked the truck all day, then drove to the next city at night; are who made it possible for me to do what I did. It was great having photographers like Ken and Neisan along, too. The other Jim at the home office didn’t get much sleep with fixing my uploads, and I appreciate all he did.

Life is good.

Any mistakes in the coverage are mine. I wrote it, I proofed it. The only problem is I write like I talk, and I can’t spell. So, sorry about that.

I’m blessed with good friends, great people to work for and with, and an understanding wife and children who tolerate my absence so I can have this hard work — albeit fun — for a week. That they still speak to me when it’s over is a testament to their kindness.

Anyway, so much for the mushy stuff. The reason I took that first flight out? The Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure was held on Saturday back home. I had to be there.

The plane landed at 9 a.m. (you gotta love those time zone changes) and I took a cab to the start line. Threw my bags in my wife’s car, changed shirts and took off walking with about 60,000 other people.

Now, I’m not the fastest walker around, but I didn’t finish last. This guy did.

Even with the crowd, it only took an hour and ten minutes to walk the three miles.

With the end in sight,

I knew I could make it, tired or not.

After all, what’s a little sweat and soreness for a good cause?

That’s my family — they’re the ones smiling. Robert is almost 16 and towers over me already. Pamela just graduated high school and will be heading to Chicago this fall for college. Pat? She’s the one that puts up with me. Good thing the kids look like her.

I’m the luckiest guy in the world in more ways than one, and so is my brother.

I’ve been gushing non-stop to my family about Kentucky and Tennessee. They really are prime places for a road trip vacation.

Oh, remember those symbols on barns from a few days ago? Thanks to all of you who wrote to tell me the background. It sounds like they have to do with quilts, Pennsylvania Dutch and/or the Amish. Regardless, they’re interesting to look at, and would make a great subject for a website.

If only I were a better photographer. By the way, I ended up with 22 followers on Twitter. That means that Ashton guy is still about 45,455 times more popular than I am. I’m still shattered.

As near as I can calculate, based on the meals I ate during the Tour, I’ll need to ride my bicycle about 1,300 miles to compensate for the calories. That’s about 120 miles more than the official Tour route, but still less than I drove, wrong turns included.

Well, it is the journey, not the destination.

I’ll leave you for 2009 with the words of that famed alien fighter, Buckaroo Banzai. Until next year:

“No Matter Where You Go, There You Are.”

Peace.

Your humble and obedient servant,

Forrest Tosie
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