Racism and Transformation in the Pharmacy Line

I did not know what to say, but something amazing happened

I was waiting in line behind a small woman with black hair at a pharmacy in San Francisco when a man came in behind me. He was tall and wore all black clothing covered in patches with aggressive messages. He was literally wearing his anger on his sleeve. After a minute or so he started shuffling in place, huffing, and making it clear to everyone else in line that he was unhappy. Then he said it: “It’s always the fucking Asians.” Clearly referencing the small woman at the front of the line that had been at the counter for several minutes. Startled by his brazen remark, I was stunned into silence. Everyone in line looked dead ahead and tried to pretend they didn’t hear him. I couldn’t help but remember that show “What Would You Do?” where they set up scenarios just like this one to see if anyone will stand up to racism or bullying in public. Why didn’t I say anything? Was I really just like everyone in that show that tucks their head and fails to defend another person just to avoid conflict? I decided that if he said anything else, I would speak up. Although I had no idea what I would actually say.

Then he said it again: “Not to make it about race, but it’s always the fucking Asians.” So I immediately turned to him and opened my mouth, waiting to see what would come out.
“Well if it’s not about race, then don’t make it about race.” I said to him simply. My heart was pumping fast.
“Okay fine, it is about race because it’s always the fucking Asians causing the problem.” He replied. “What do you care anyway? You’re white!” He said.
“Well…” I said. Once again, curious to see what would actually come out of my mouth.”I wouldn’t let someone to say that about you either.”
“Well that’s very nice.” He said sarcastically.

Then the most amazing thing happened. The woman in the front of the line turned around and said, “I’m not Asian. I’m Puerto Rican, and proud of it.” She scowled at him and then just turned back to her business. Everyone else in line continued to pretend like they couldn’t hear anything and stared straight ahead. His eyes popped. “Well fuck me, I’m Salvadorian. So I’m Latino too. Shit, now I’m an asshole.” From that moment he was transformed into the most deferential, polite and patient patron in the store. “No you first…Please and thank you…yes ma’am.” The change was so dramatic that I started looking for the hidden cameras. Did that really just happen? I was on a cloud leaving the pharmacy. It was a natural high that was exhilarating. I was hardly a hero for muttering something back to this man, but deciding to swallow fear and awkwardness in order to stand up for empathy felt like I was living according to my truest self, and that was well worth it. I have no idea how it would have turned out if the woman had in fact been Asian, or if this momentary revelation did in fact transform him in any way beyond the present scenario in the store. But I know for a fact that I don’t want to waste any more opportunities to speak up for others and for compassion.

Viva

Together For Children

I recently had the opportunity to work with an amazing organization called Viva and their partners in Hyderabad, India.

Viva helps people work together to keep children at risk safe and healthy, give them opportunities to learn and empower them to play an active part in shaping their own futures.

The hospitality there was overwhelming, and it was a pleasure to get to visit these amazing projects. While I can tend to be pretty focused while I’m shooting, it was hard not to fall in love with the children as I sorted through the photos later. I look forward to posting the full set of portraits and photos to the main portfolio soon.

 

The Teaser

The Tour de Farm

The Tour de Farm – Teaser from Patricia Andrews on Vimeo.

Beginnings

Kampala, Uganda

Producing this video was an amazing experience. So excited to see such a thoughtful approach to improving healthcare in the poor urban setting. As a one-person production in a third-world country with only about two weeks to make it happen… it had its challenges. All well worth it.

Beginnings — Kampala, Uganda from Patricia Andrews on Vimeo.

Can You Trust the Cardboard Farmer?

Why good food requires good relationships

Yesterday I went to the local farmer’s market to get some veggies for dinner. As I went from stall to stall, the farmers offered samples of watermelon, showed me pictures of their farm, explained the differences between the varieties of his colorful cherry tomatoes,  and talked about the “special touches” that keep the goat cheese from tasting like “the rear end of a goat.” After leaving the farmer’s market, I had a dish in mind that would require a few extra special ingredients. So, I headed over to the supermarket where I noticed something funny on all of the boxes of prepackaged food. They were trying to look JUST like the farmers I met at the farmer’s market. Illustrated faces of kind old farmers and sweet ladies with their gray hair wrapped into a bun.  A cardboard version of knowing your farmer. You can ask the cardboard farmer a limited range of questions about the food, such as those that the FDA requires he publish on the box. What struck me about this is that despite our distance from the farm, we still crave trust and some sense of relationship with our food. Granted, the people working in this supermarket could not possibly be friendlier. They can kindly tell me where to find the chicken, but they can’t tell me how the chicken was raised.

[Come on. Who wouldn't trust this face? You can practically hear Morgan Freeman telling you that the food is good. Besides, he's your uncle. He wouldn't steer you wrong, right?]

 

We all know that good relationships revolve around food (family dinner, business lunches, coffee with an old friend, breakfast in bed). Yet we tend to forget that the reverse is also true:

Good food revolves around relationships.

Eating always requires some level of relationship because you have to trust that what you’re putting in your mouth won’t kill you or make you sick. A farmer’s good relationship with the ground helps him know that his food is good, and a good relationship with the farmer helps you trust him and his food too. In a good relationship there is mutual care and accountability.

In fact, many of the problems that plague our food systems are a direct result of our disconnection and deteriorating relationships.

We all know that our compassion and empathy tends to diminish with  distance, be it geographical or cultural. We also know that personal responsibility tends to diminish on larger scales. So it should come as no surprise that when we became more and more distant from our food, the plants and animals we consume and the people producing our food, while at the same time dramatically increasing the size of our farms and the size of the companies responsible for our food, we have created a food system that gives very little care to the life of our farmers, our plants and animals and even the people the system was created to feed. When a food system is run by the rules of industrialization instead of the rules of relationship, all of these living things are reduced to merely the means of production, the products for consumption, and consumers. It’s not that we have been able to take the relationship out of our food systems. We’ve just substituted our relationships with the ground, the animals, farmers and bakers etc. for relationships with brands and supermarkets. We’ve substituted interactive conversations for flat labels.

We are made to feel like we have a relationship with something that has neither eyes, nor ears nor soul. Some companies know how to exploit this without any real care for you, their consumer, but there are some companies that do try to honor this relationship and will call you back when you need to talk about a problem, like any good friend would. There are some companies that take seriously their responsibility to right their wrongs and try to do better for their customers and our world. I wish this was the majority.

One billion people in the world are obese. One billion people in the world are starving. Americans throw away nearly HALF of all of our food. We don’t just have a diet problem as a society, we have an eating disorder. This is why I don’t think that we can fix the problems in our food systems merely with more systems. Just like you can’t help someone with an eating disorder by simply prescribing a balanced diet if it fails to address the deeper hungers and excesses that led them there in the first place. We have gotten to where we are today because of our increasing disconnect. In a physical way, the farther away we are from our food, the more fuel has to be burned to get here, the more premature it has to be picked, the less nutrients it has and the less delicious it is. For the same reasons, the more disconnected we are from our food systems, the more they will be unsustainable, unhealthy, and unsatisfying.

Ads like this one by Chipotle (in case you haven’t seen it) demonstrate that there might be some hope in working with and not against big food businesses.

We need to reconnect.  As one of our host farmers from the Tour de Farm said, “If it’s alive, it needs care, and care takes time.” Let’s give our food relationships the time and attention that all of our other important relationships require. Of course the most direct way to reconnect with your food is to plant your own garden or go to the farmer’s market to get to know your farmer. However, I am not driving an agenda to “take down” food corporations. There is also a lot of good that can be done by getting to know the people at your local supermarket to learn more about where they get their food, or even by reaching out to your favorite food brands to hold them accountable to the kinds of practices you wouldn’t mind endorsing with your dollar.

I asked one of our farmers on the Tour de Farm what he thought the answer to these problems might be. With full and utter confidence he said, “Love. To love and be loved. That’s it. Everything else is secondary. Everything else comes after.” If that’s true,  and I suspect that it is, then fixing our broken food systems is not about casting blame or guilt trips on ourselves or others. It’s about an invitation to enjoy the best part of life: love.

The Simple, Quick and Easy Secret to Health

Time for a Paradigm Shift

 

We’ve been on our health pilgrimage, the Tour de Farm,  for over a month now, and I have discovered at least one simple, easy, fast thing you need to know about being healthy! Are you ready? Here it goes: It’s not always simple, rarely easy and almost never fast. You’ll never read that as a magazine cover story or hear that in an infomercial. Sustainable health doesn’t sell. That’s why I can tell you for free. In fact, many of the catch phrases in the “health” industry promote exactly the opposite attitudes that I believe are most important for a healthy lifestyle.  Everyone seems to complain that our mainstream culture is so unhealthy. Then it should not come as a surprise that to live healthfully may require stepping out of the mainstream, or least being willing to operate differently than those around you. Cultivating a relationship with your local farmers to find good local produce will never be as fast and easy as buying your groceries at the same place where you buy your batteries or pick up your prescription. There are diets, and pills and surgeries that can be very “effective,” but to what end? We have a million theories about how to extend the quantity of our lives, but what about the quality? Don’t get me wrong, I am excited about what science and technology can offer to improve our ailments and illnesses, but it seems clear by now that we don’t need a new miracle diet, a new procedure, a new drug, a new exercise plan, or a new…whatever in order to be a happier, healthier society. We need a whole paradigm shift in the way we perceive health: what it is, why it’s important and how we go about cultivating it.

A few preliminary thoughts:

One of the basic questions I sought to explore on this journey is, “What is health?” As I’ve said before, I don’t accept the anemic definition that “health” is merely the absence of illness. This is similar to calling the mere absence of war “peace,” yet we know of many places in our world today that have neither war nor peace. We can’t easily define goodness, truth or beauty, but we know they are infinitely more than just the absence of evil, lies and ugliness. The most important concepts often resist definition because they are more profound than our language, and we fear we may stifle them with our semantic fences. This is a wise caution, but if we want to cultivate the precious values that make life worth living then we must be brave. If we want to try to understand what it really means to be “healthy,” we must be willing to identify some things that nurture health. It can’t be defined simply, measured or quantified by any biometric norms (although these are helpful guides sometimes), so we must seek to understand it in quality. Let’s begin to try to name some possible characteristics of health, even if we fail to describe this robust quality with perfect precision or accuracy.  The idea of Health (with a capital ‘H’) alone is too big and too daunting to tackle head-on, so to speak. However, ideas like patience, vitality and gratitude, these are things we more readily know how to express, things we can get our hands on, things we can more easily touch and feel and nurture. Let’s begin with one possible working definition that actually emerged from a conversation with our 2nd farmer.

As we were bouncing up the steep mountain road to the ferme d’art, a magical self-sustaining place, I was telling our host, Pan, about my reasons for the journey to learn more about health, and how I had asked myself, “What is health?” Although I had asked the question as a rhetorical part of my story, Pan quickly answered “It’s being alive!!” with sudden confidence and particular volume for this gentle person. This answer made me pause in my tracks. Of course I quickly agreed as you do in such congenial conversation, but I also thought about the functionality of this definition. My first thought may have been something like, yes, but that’s too simple to be helpful, but then I realized that it was actually the opposite. The idea of what makes us fully alive is not simple at all. In fact this working definition is a dynamic, multi-faceted way to think about health, and though not remotely easier, it can in fact be very helpful.

For instance, to think about a healthy person as a living, breathing being means that we cannot simply treat our bodies as machines. Machines are non-living objects created primarily with respect to functionality, economy and efficiency. If we’re not machines, it’s time we stop letting these priorities dictate our lifestyle. Our bodies are not simply means of production and food is not just fuel. Robert, our first host-farmer, talked about how the French language has two words to describe the act of eating, one refers solely to the act of eating in order to stay alive (like fuel for a machine to keep running), and the other refers to higher form of eating (like when we sit and enjoy the food and the company of others). Or to restate it simply, sometimes we eat to keep running, and sometimes we eat to keep sitting. The point is that we are not machines. We are humans. As humans we have the capacity to be productive and the capacity to experience pleasure, and I think we should do both as much and as well as possible. If being fully alive is part of being healthy, then we have to remember to enjoy. Studies from the University of Rhode Island have actually shown that eating slower and taking the time to focus on your food and consciously savor each bite can help you lose weight. Similarly, the theory behind the best-seller (perhaps not too coincidentally a French approach) French Women Don’t Get Fat suggests making meals an occasion. Break out the fine china. Set your plate. Light some candles. If you are what you eat, eat only the really good stuff.

So perhaps we can start to think about a healthy lifestyle as that which contributes to life, is life-giving and life-enhancing. Of course the obvious question we’ve introduced with this approach is far more profound and difficult… “What is life? What is to be fully human?” Questions as heavy as the human soul and as multifarious as the human race, so of course I really can’t fully answer it for you. Nevertheless, I’ve noticed a few themes emerging that I think will find expression in every healthy, fully alive person. There’s definitely not time to discuss them all in one post (or a thousand posts for that matter) but over the next few weeks I’ll try to touch on these different themes. For now I must go because I have some of my own pedaling and working and sweating and stopping and sipping and tasting and enjoying to do in Bordeaux.

Much love,

Patricia

PHOTO: Hand-picked cherries and hand-pitted for hand-made confiture (jam). Slow? Incredibly. Worth it? Absolutely.

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The Heights and the Depths

200 kilometers of ups and downs

I can close my eyes for one, maybe two seconds as I let my head tuck down and rest my neck. Any longer would be potentially perilous as the road requires sustained focus to be safe from cliffs, or cars or…whatever. Although I feel like we have been building mental as well as physical stamina on our 4-to-9-hour-days of cycling over the mountains and across the countryside, there are still dozens of moments (mostly during climbs) that I have to close my eyes, grit my teeth and just keep pedaling with the knowledge that ‘what goes up must come down,’ …but one never knows how soon this will be true and how much climbing one must endure before that time. As I’ve said before, trying to look too far ahead is just depressing and never fails to just knock the wind out of my sails, what little wind I might have at this point. And yet I know from the last several ‘cols’ or summits, that the time to go down does always come eventually, and when it does, pure exhilaration and perfect exaltation await. One’s whole reality flips inside out in these moments. Your face is burning and stinging with sweat, your lungs are churning, your arms are shaking and balancing, and your legs…oh your legs… they are reeling tighter and tighter, and every whirl seems like an amazing feat. Then suddenly you start to feel the tension ease and you start to feel stronger as the sharp incline softens beneath you. At the same time a vista opens up below and you see how high you are in the mountains above the rolling fields and rivers. Fresh air seems to pour into your lungs as you gain speed and the wind cools your face. Where just a moment before you felt every hulking inch, now you are flying…weightlessly through the sky.

This is what I try to remember when I face the next climb, I remember that I have chosen to do this tour and I have chosen this journey. Also, that you cannot have the full thrill of the descent without the labor of the ascent… and most of all, that I would rather be suffering the climbs and relishing the coasts through the countryside than to miss all of it because I didn’t try or because it seemed too difficult. It reminds me of one of my favorite passages from the author Sheldon Vanauken (It’s a bit longish, but worth quoting in full I think):

“How did one find joy? In books it was found in love– a great love… So if he wanted the heights of joy, he must have it, if he could find it, in great love. But in the books again, great joy through love always seemed go hand in hand with frightful pain. Still, he thought, looking out across the meadow, still, the joy would be worth the pain– if indeed, they went together. If there were a choice– and he suspected there was– a choice between, on the one hand, the heights and the depths and, on the other hand, some sort of safe, cautious middle way, he, for one, here and now chose the heights and the depths. Since then the years have gone by and he– had he not had what he chose that day in the meadow? He had had the love. And the joy– what joy it had been! And the sorrow. He had had– was having– all the sorrow there was. And yet, the joy was worth the pain. Even now he re-affirmed that long-past choice.”

(Sidenote: I think it is no coincidence that the fullest expression of health is life and perhaps the fullest experience of life is in the heights and depths and that this is intimately connected to “great love.” Definitely more thoughts on this later.)

I too suspect that there is a kind of choice between some sort of safe, cautious middle way and a life full of great heights and great depths. A life that comes when we decide to live into our potential to love, or to take risks and to try to do something we’ve “only” dreamed of, or to try become vulnerable, or to decide to have just a little bit of faith. But I think one must become aware that they are able to make this choice and then make it, accepting the concomitant circumstances, be they difficult or comfortable, thrilling or mundane. It’s really okay if you choose the safe path. Just know that you are choosing it and be at peace with that. Choose it consciously and be as safe as you like, and remember that it’s never too late to change your mind. In fact, the most fearless and powerful cyclists we encounter on the road are “old” men and women. I’ve said so many times “Man, the old people are killin’ it out here.” Only you can choose how you want to live, but you’re alive now. Go live.

How to Know a Weed When You See One

and Other Profundities from the Dirt

 

It’s easy to see why gardening metaphors pervade wisdom sayings. Yes, of course it’s because many systems and structures functioning at the cosmic level are also functioning at the level of our little garden. But also because, well, you have a lot of time to think when you’re pulling weeds. Robert, our host, said that he learned everything he needed to know about life from his garden. This was the idea that was germinating in my mind as I plucked out weed after weed. While I don’t expect to unearth anything completely new in my gardening thoughts (see what I did there? ;), I did appreciate a little bit of time to muse on the idea of weeding. I was snatching and tugging and yanking and tossing the weeds into a pile when I was suddenly surprised to find tiny potatoes dangling on the end of the roots of the plant in my hand. Is this a weed? Well… ummm… I don’t know, I thought. I guess this isn’t the patch for potato plants…so…yes.

Huh.

I remember always having trouble with idea of a “weed” as a child because a weed is, by definition, whatever you say it is. Weeds are conditionally and intentionally defined. If it’s not what you intend to grow and it’s growing in the place meant for what you want to grow and therefore in competition with it…it’s a weed. This “Agriculture 101” epiphany is only slightly more profound than dirt and  common sense, and yet it’s something I think we forget very easily. Robert does grow potatoes on his farm. We ate them. They’re delicious. Potatoes are wonderful, but just because it’s a potato doesn’t mean it can’t be a weed, and just because it’s a weed doesn’t mean it isn’t wonderful. The real question is: What would you like to grow? You can only identify a weed if you know the answer to this question, and there’s no point in weeding if you haven’t planted something. The metaphor is obvious. What are you trying to grow with your life? For your body? For your health? In your character? In your relationships? In your career? In a way, you could just fail to decide and just see what you can find in the thicket of wild plants. In fact, when you do scatter seed, there’s a necessary “wait-and-see” period. Maybe something nice will appear. Maybe not. But if you want a garden… if you want something beautiful and productive, then well, you must decide what you will grow. You must plant it. You must nourish it and you must uproot everything that will choke it out. Even the pretty weeds. Even if it’s a plant that you’d like to grown in another place. It’s like the expression that goes something like, “Sometimes the enemy of the best isn’t the worst, but the good.”

The first day we tended the garden we were timid because we were so afraid of uprooting the wrong plants. The gardens we were weeding were in their first year and so the seeds he planted had grown up in a dense heap of all sorts of other plants. The neophyte gardeners that we are, at first we left a lot of “good looking” weeds in the dirt. When Robert returned I think he was probably a little amused at our paranoid weeding habits. But he didn’t take us to each good looking weed we had mistakenly protected in order to explain to us why this particular plant or leaf structure indicated that it was a weed and so on and so on. No, he simply walked into the garden and pointed very clearly at the plants he had planted and said “This. This. And This. Everything else, you pick.” That’s it. At a later stage our weeding required a bit more of a fine-tuned excision of hair-thin weeds among a dense patch including young parsley plants. We could have used tweezers. We called it “surgery.” What became important in this task was not our knowledge of the weed plants, but of the parsley or coriander we sought to protect. The more familiar we were with the color, shape, size and basic character of the parsley, the easier it became to discern everything that was not THAT plant and did not support THAT plant, the weeds. Even if we have to spend a lot of energy uprooting the bad things that always seem to grow just fine without our help, or even pruning the good things that are out of place, the focus of our study, the object of our attention, the heart of our energies, should always be the good stuff.

Do NOT Keep Your Eye on the Prize

The uphill climb and downhill dangers from Italy to Nice

 

It burned. It burned so much.

The burn became quicker and fiercer as the day dragged on, but we had to continue. Why? It’s not a race. It hurts and there is no competition, so why continue? But on we went and on we would go until we made it to Nice. We knew that this tour would push us in a variety of ways, but we didn’t know how soon.

One thing I love about cycling is how it connects you to the character of your landscape. If you are in gently rolling hills you can expect a gentle ride. If you are in a flat, open country your ride will be also be flat and everything is open to you. So it should have come as no surprise that the dramatic cliffs around Monaco would offer a dramatic first day.

The weight of our bikes and baggage equaled almost half of our body weight, but there was really nothing we could afford to toss that we wouldn’t need. We set out from Menton with our bikes fully loaded, but secure. Feeling prepared and optimistic about the first journey. However, our first prolonged climb was sobering. Like swimming up-river, the weight felt as if it was pulling you backwards and you had to pedal hard to make any progress. Even holding the bike on the slopes while stopped required some effort. Our pace got slower and slower as our legs burned and the sun pressed down on us. At one point we stopped to regain some blood in our legs and check our maps for navigation. “We still have a long way to go.” Tiffany’s eyes filled with tears. “I just don’t know how we’re going to do this! I don’t know if my body can do it!”

Lots of sporting wisdom tells you to “keep your eye on the prize,” but I’m not totally convinced that this is always a good idea. You set out for the prize (whatever the prize may be) and you train for the prize, but in the moment of action I think you must only keep your focus on the present moment. Our greatest moments of distress came from looking at the prize. The prize was a tiny speck of dust on the horizon. Looking at the prize, or in our case, at the elevation above us that we must climb with our loads was just depressing. Forget the prize. Keep your eyes only on the switchback curve in front of you. You can pedal a little while longer now, so keep pedaling. You can make it to the next turn, so for now don’t think about the next turn and the next and the next and the next. There will be time for that later.

About 2/3 of the way up we came to an overlook and we stopped to refill our water bottles and take in the view. It was truly astonishing. The struggle made more sense once we could see how far above the sea we actually were. We had started at the beach near Italy that morning so we knew we started at sea level. Now we looked down at Monaco and the Grand Casino and all of the vestiges of last week’s Grand Prix all far below us. It was completely and utterly satisfying to see how far we’d come. Although, we still had some climbing to do and it felt like my legs had reached maximum fatigue over two hours ago. Slowly but surely we climbed. A few other serious-looking cyclists without loads came along. We were a bit gratified that at least they were breathing hard too. When they passed us, their eyes widened as they looked at our packs. “Oooo la la,” said one. When we finally made it to the little town of Turbie on top of the mountain it was pure bliss. A quiet evening in a precious little town with delicious food and wine. A perfect little reward, and appropriately, Turbie possesses one of only two ruins of “Roman Trophies” (structures built by Caesar to celebrate a victory) in the world.

“Ahhhh, thank God! It’s all downhill from here,” we thought. Which was just  a little bit too true. We had gone a long way up and we had a long way  down. It is usually a joy-ride to speed down a hill you’ve climbed, but this was a really big hill and we were practically riding weighted bobsleds by steep mountain edges along with other cars. To keep control of these bad boys we had to apply a ferocious grip on our brakes for nearly 10 miles of downhill. Now instead of my legs, my forearms burned and my fingers ached, but we could not afford to let up and lose control on the mountain. At one point, I could no longer see Tiffany behind me and I was afraid of my fingers giving out and no longer being able to stop, so I clinched down and finally came to a halt. When Tiffany came to a stop behind me, her voice started to shake and the tears rolled. After a few sniffs she reigned in her fears and bravely continued.

Although I did not cry, I still think Tiffany showed the greater bravery on this ride. I love the simple line from William James, “Be not afraid of life.” It’s true that life begins just beyond our comfort zones and bravery is what it takes to step outside them. But the thing is that no one’s comfort zones are exactly alike. It could require more bravery for an acute introvert to smile at a stranger than for a stunt-double to jump off of a building. What bravery looks like for me will not necessarily be what it looks like for you. In this way, I have to appreciate how incredibly far beyond Tiffany’s comfort zone we were at this moment. I grew up in a family of actions sports and adrenaline junkies. Tiffany had never done anything like this until she married my brother, and here we were flying down this mountain at dusk with ledges on either side and cars whizzing by and our ability to stop becoming weaker every moment. It was dangerous. She was right to cry, but she was brave to keep going. She didn’t call a cab but decided to put her fear aside for the moment and continue on. To forget the far away prize and all the potential pains and pitfalls along the way, and just continuously decide to act bravely in the present moment, I think this is bravery.

 

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A thousand little strings

and preliminary decisions

It doesn’t matter how much planning I do, I never get much sleep the night before a big trip. When I’m crossing the pond I can pass it off as strategy for being sure to get sleep on the plane, but I had no such reason flying from Germany to France and yet still…no sleep. Everything of major importance is sorted and done, but it always takes the impending reality of departure to actually put things in the bag and zip it up. And there are always a thousand things to think about. A thousand practical little strings to tie up before boarding the plane to Nice, all of equal importance, or non-importance more accurately. And of course there are the intangible strings as well. The sense that you’re about to be tested in a number of ways. The fears and excitement of setting out to do something you’ve never done before. There was no sense in waiting for my alarm to go off. I decided to keep my eyes closed for another 10 seconds, and when I opened them that the Tour will have officially begun. 10…9…8… As I counted down I thought about how grateful I am for everyone’s support on this crazy journey… 7…6…5… I decided I would not hold back anything short of my best effort and that I would forgive myself and try again if I screw up….4…3…2… I decided to make my excitement, not my worries about the tour define its beginning… 1. The Tour de Farm has begun.