The countdown for daughter, Phyllis', Big Trip, bicycling across the U.S. with five other cyclists begins next week. I have mixed feelings about the daughter who was always the most down to earth, focused and sensible one in the family suddenly going completely bonkers! Yes, a mother worries about her kids no matter how old they are. Her Dad and I wrung our hands every time she had a crisis, three of which were bicycle accidents in Seattle where she has lived and worked for the past 30-plus years. After raising three beautiful, talented and intelligent children of her own, encouraging them in their dreams, she is now fulfilling a dream of her own: Riding a bicycle for 4,469 miles from Yorktown, VA, to Astoria, OR, from May 7 to August 10, sleeping mostly in campgrounds and the backyards of friends. Of course I worry! But since worrying serves no purpose I have to resort to cheering her on and applauding her effort. Her dedication to preparation for this journey has been an incredible journey in itself. Just the logistics of planning weight she will be limited to on her bicycle was a monumental task. All she will need (except food) will be in panniers on both front and back of the bike, a tent and a small amount of clothing will be stored in tiny compartments. Total weight must not exceed 40 pounds. I live in a one-bedroom apartment and constantly whine about not having enough storage room. When her Dad and I were traveling through the country in our motor home a few years ago, I didn't know how long I could stand it with water rationing, lousy TV reception and not having enough storage for what I believed were basic necessities. I guess I have no room to complain about anything regarding my living situation when I think about Phyllis on a two wheeler bicycle pumping her way to fulfillment of a dream. She will send mini e-mails from her iPhone along the way, and of course we will be in touch by cell phone. I look forward to her safe return and the wonderful stories of traveling through the heartland of our great country. Mostly I look forward to hugging her to my bosum as I did when she was a five-year-old returning from an unannounced tricycle trip to visit a friend two doors down the street. God speed, my adventurous daughter. And just say no to Rocky Mountain oysters. (Phyl's trip blog address: bigtrip2010counts@wordpress.com)