On June 6th, myself and nine other remarkable women clipped into our bikes in Seattle, Washington, completely unaware of what the next seven weeks would bring. Fifty days and 1,700 miles later, we rolled into San Diego, California, forever changed in ways we could never have anticipated.
This summer, I had the opportunity to be part of Pedal the Pacific's Team 10. Pedal the Pacific is a leadership development program for college aged women that provides the resources and opportunities to develop confidence as advocates for change. More than just a bike ride, Pedal the Pacific is also a nonprofit dedicated to raising awareness and funds for the fight against domestic sex trafficking, with the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children as its primary beneficiary.
Although we launched on June 6th, our journey began long before arriving in Seattle. To outsiders, Pedal the Pacific may look like simply a 50 day commitment or just a bike ride. In reality, it was a journey that began months earlier - with fundraising, community outreach, team building, training, and learning about the complex realities of domestic sex trafficking. By the time we got to Seattle we were anxiously awaiting the moment we had invested months into preparing for. It would not be evident, for 50 days and 1,700 miles, just how much would be given back to us.
The beginning of our journey was far from smooth sailing. Our limits were pushed, and we were tested in ways we had never been before. During the first five days, being dry and warm were foreign concepts to us. Even our tent had seen better days.
Those difficult moments revealed the strength our team had. Despite having less-than-ideal conditions, we found reasons to laugh and ways to make the best of every situation. I could never have imagined that something as simple as a covered picnic area at a campsite would be a highlight of my summer, but it was (ask Team 10 about Kitchen 2).
Those difficult moments revealed the strength our team had. Despite having less-than-ideal conditions, we found reasons to laugh and ways to make the best of every situation.
On day three, we biked for about 10 hours in freezing rain and when we got to camp we learned our tent could not withstand the amount of rain we were getting and it quickly filled with puddles. That night, all ten of us sat together on a picnic bench, in Kitchen 2, eating a platter of unidentifiable Mexican food. As we ate, one of my teammates made each of us hot lemon water and honey to try and warm up while another scoured our support vehicle for some sort of sweet treat. Despite the day we had, and knowing we would be returning to a tent full of puddles, we couldn't stop laughing.
That night, sitting around the picnic table, I realized something: I did not need perfect conditions to make it down the coast. I did not need all the hours I spent training and preparing for the ride. I just needed those nine women beside me.
However, in true Team 10 fashion, Kitchen 2 was only the beginning. Every new obstacle became another opportunity to grow together - and somehow, the harder the journey became, the more we learned to appreciate it. Who knew something as simple as a dry chamois would be such a luxury?
As much as those challenges created great stories, they were not the greatest stories of the summer. The greatest stories are the forever bonds, memories, and strength that was cultivated over 1,700 miles.
When you are around the same people 24/7, especially traveling through remote areas, you learn to co-exist in the most magical way. There were certainly moments I wanted alone time, but somewhere between Seattle and San Diego, those nine women became my home. Even now, two months later, I find myself craving my teammates on my hardest days. I miss the women who encouraged me up every hill, who created a welcoming space for my tears, who celebrated every win (even if it was simply finishing five miles of our 75 mile ride), and most importantly, who loved and accepted me for who I am.
Women can truly do anything. I believe that more deeply now because I watched, and continue to watch, my teammates prove it every day.
Women can truly do anything. I believe that more deeply now because I watched, and continue to watch, my teammates prove it every day.
The greatest thing I brought home from this journey wasn't just a stronger sense of self or lifelong friendships, it was discovering a clearer understanding of the kind of advocate I want to become.
The ride itself was extremely impactful and helped me find a strength within myself that I did not know I had. But riding my bike was only part of this adventure. The growth I experienced as a leader and advocate is something I will carry with me forever, especially as I begin my career.
Before starting the ride, I knew I wanted a career centered around advocacy. This is one of the reasons why I am currently in grad school pursuing my Masters of Social Work. What I did not fully understand was what being an effective advocate actually required.
I used to believe that to be a strong and successful advocate, I needed to have all the answers and information regarding the issue. Pedal the Pacific challenged this pre-existing belief time and time again, as I learned that the most important thing I need to be an advocate is a passion, willingness to listen, learn, ask questions, and apply what I learned to spark change.
I used to believe that to be a strong and successful advocate, I needed to have all the answers and information regarding the issue. Pedal the Pacific challenged this pre-existing belief time and time again...
Throughout the summer, I had the opportunity to learn from survivors, professionals in the field, and past Pedal the Pacific riders. Those conversations deepened my understanding of domestic sex trafficking, and more importantly, reminded me that there is no single experience of trafficking.
Domestic sex trafficking occurs across many different contexts, and because it looks different from person to person, it often goes unnoticed. This realization strengthened my passion for advocating for more effective trauma informed education and training for professionals and the general public.
And, of course, we learned some very important life lessons along the way. One of those lessons being comfort MATTERS. My team and I were incredibly lucky to have Shredly donate each of us a pair of chamois. I am not exaggerating when I say they are quite literally my favorite pair of chamois I own AND they matched our jersey's perfectly! Not only do they fit well, they have pockets (total game changer), and cute scalloped bottoms (created really fun tanlines). I cannot speak for the rest of my team, but I ALWAYS saved my Shredly shorts for our hardest days. Feeling cute while doing something so challenging always made the day more enjoyable.
Another lesson I am taking away from this summer is that the little things matter. A good meal. A laugh when everything feels impossible. A pair of dry socks. A good pair of chamois (shout out Shredly). And, most importantly, the people who remind you that you don't have to do the hard things alone.
I started this journey thinking I was simply preparing to ride 1,700 miles. I didn't realize I was also preparing to discover the power of community, become a stronger advocate, and learn who I am.
I will always be grateful for the miles - but even more grateful for the women who rode them with me.
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