The weekend was amazing and offers some crazy stories including being hit by a flying pop can on I-90, only two flat tires in 184.67 miles, burning 11,913 calories in more than 16 hours on a saddle, and ascending 11,013 feet and celebrating a descent of more than 9000 feet, on some of the most beautiful roads in Washington state.

I was supported well by Ryan Harris while on the road, and Shelly Mullin, Kevin Mullin, Roy Fink, Jack Bielinski, Kendall Bielinski, Lorri Nichols, Rhonda Thompson, Mari Francissen, Mauri Fromm, Teresa Fromm, Aloria Mercer, Myra Brisky, Shaka Forest and mom and dad!

You have allowed me to challenge myself physically, and emotionally, and to take the unfortunate events of a 58 day old baby and turn it into something useful.  Eighty-nine donors raised $8341.89 as of the writing of this letter.  Contributors included people I don’t know at all, and people who were part of the case involving Tehya’s abuser. 

I was invited by Multicare to tell the story of why I rode the Courage during the event at the Sunday evening dinner program.  The park was completely silent as people listened to the chain of events of how I came to ride the Courage, and the events that took place while I prepared to ride.  Day after day a new twist to the story unrolled and I was reminded that I live a very special life.

When riding the hardest part of Stevens Pass to the summit on the last day I wrote a letter to Tehya in my mind.  I don’t know if she will ever get to read it, or if she will ever really know of her early childhood events, but this is what I would say to her if I could.

Dear Tehya,

I met you through a beautiful photograph as a tiny 58 day old baby.  I got to know you through your x-rays, your medical file, and people who spoke for you.  I wanted to protect you from that moment I first saw you.  Your life’s story was challenging already in just your short time alive.  As much as I didn’t want to know your story it was clear that I had to…and that you would change my life, and the lives of others.

The images that were drawn with puzzle pieces delivered through the voices of physicians, radiologists, prosecutors, defenders, and even your parents were distinctive, yet vague.  Your voice was muted, yet sharp.  What I learned from your story was difficult to manage, but necessary.  It inspired me to move and remember that life is as important as I always knew.  You reminded me to live each day with a purpose that I always thought I had, and now with even more certainty.

I saw people who lived their lives, and made their careers, of helping children whose lives were affected like yours.  I learned of people who sacrificed their personal time to change the outcomes of babies in your shoes, to ensure that they would have a loving home and life, like you have now.

I learned of a bicycle ride, named the Courage Classic that would travel through three mountain passes, in three days.  The purpose was to raise money for a special cause-one that matters to you-a cause that would change lives.  I saw your face, your x-rays, and your story played in my head, over and over.  I registered for the ride, and trained with you in mind.  I told your story and you raised awareness. 

One of your advocate voices came alive and shared with me a new vision of you.  She provided me comfort that you had a new home, a place to grow, and learn and be loved.  I learned that you would grow up with your baby sister, and that you would never be in harms way again. I saw your face for the first time with a smile, as a happy toddler and part of a loving family.

I trained with people who made your life our mission.  I took you to Mt. Bachelor, OR and we rode the pass.  I took you to Spokane, WA and we rode to Coeur d’Alene, ID.  I took you to Vashon Island where we rode hill after hill to make sure that we would meet the challenge of the Courage and to Walla Walla, WA where we rode for bicycle safety for a woman named Ann Weatherill. And we rode countless laps through the Pt. Defiance Park in Tacoma.

It was time for the ride and I had you with me at all times.  I wore your photo on my jersey and told your story.  I had you on my handle bars and remembered that I could make it up the hill no matter what the grade.  One by one, 675 other cyclists, and countless support crew asked about you, wanting to know who you were, and how you were to join me on this ride. 

In the heat, in the hardest grade of the hills, in the rolling flats, on the shoulder of the highways, and standing in the grub line, you told your story.  By the end of the second day everyone knew you, and loved you, and had a reason to climb the hardest hill of our third day in the mountains.  You made a difference.

On the third day we climbed up the Stevens Pass summit with courage, and provided strength to other cyclists.  In another random moment I have experienced since I met you, we met one of your doctors who helped to protect you!  We made it to the top, and down to the finish, and everyone knew your name.  In your short life you have changed the lives of others. 

Through the events of your early childhood you touched the lives of so many people and changed the lives of so many children.  You have a long life ahead of you with many more miracles in your future.  Thank you for teaching me something so valuable.  I am lucky to have known you even for a moment.

With love,

Lori

Juror #6 

In addition to all of the online donors, I want to thanks the following off-line donors also:  Wayne Williams, Bill Struyk, Richard Adler, Janet Frostad, Tami Warnke, David Ducharme, Sean Salazar, Kevin Mullin, Bill and Jackie Gavin, Dedi Hitchins, Melanie Stewart, Ilona Perry, Linda Marvik, Lisa Thatcher, Diane Sherwood-Palmer, DC, Chris and Dave Norlund, Roy Fink, Marla and Terrell Deere, KC Bacon, Eileen Schofield, Linda Bielinski, WA State Council of Firefighters, Majken Ryherd, Joe Daniels, Rick and Tiffney Lewis, Dave Knutson, John Rossetto, Shawn Gay, Thaddeus Mercer, Michael Transue, Lisa Mehdi, Melissa Johnson, Larry Bain, John Peick, Scott Young, Frank Chopp, Dolores Chiechi, Steve Perovich.