On paper, my job here is easy to relate. These are the last days of primary filming on our documentary about how bicycling can help wounded veterans recover from their mental and physical wounds. Our involvement with this particular group, Ride2Recovery, began during the Memorial Day Challenge, a ride from Arlington to Virginia Beach; took us to Normandy, France and the beaches of D-Day; and is ending here on a long journey to commemorate the 10^th anniversary of 9/11. This stage began for most across the Hudson River from Ground Zero, wound through the countryside of Pennsylvania to the Flight 93 National Memorial in Shanksville, and will end at the Pentagon.

That route is about 550 miles, but for several riders in this group, it wasn’t long enough. A small core of six riders, including one who is paralyzed from the waist down and rides a hand-crank cycle, began a week earlier in Colonial Heights, Va., plotting a route to the official R2R launch point that, when combined with R2R’s ride, will amount to more than 911 miles over the course of 13 days.

And that is why it’s hard to really describe what I’m doing—while I’m officially working on a documentary, I’m also witness to a remarkable example of the human spirit in action. The riders in this group suffer from a variety of mental and physical injuries—among them are post-traumatic stress, paralysis, and traumatic brain injuries, just a small sampling of the sorts of physical and psychic wounds American soldiers have suffered in combat. To say that it’s been an honor and an inspiration to document their ride, along hilly terrain and through traffic-heavy towns, is a vast understatement.

The “pre-ride,” as we called it, was markedly different than the official ride, in which 350 people are participating. It consisted of a small and fast unit of riders, support vehicles, American Legion motorcycle escorts and two filmmakers (one of whom is also pedaling the entire route). The weather was horrible from the first crank—ice-cold rain and historic flooding marred the entire campaign, requiring on-the-spot re-navigation, some river fordings, detours through mountains on gravel roads and reliance on a lot of good will along the way.

By contrast, the official R2R ride is organized (albeit sometimes haphazardly) down to the minute, with strict timetables, lunch stops like the one here in Bloomery arranged by the USO, and a team of staff to coordinate hotel rooms and group dinners. Although bike riding is inherently risky (a risk that is compounded by physical injuries and inexperience), riding with R2R is about as safe as it gets when biking for hundreds of miles over the course of a week or more. One would have to try hard to be stranded or get lost.

The pre-ride, in comparison, was almost completely ad hoc, having been organized just a week before the start by American Legion Post 10 motorcycle rider Tom Wahl, who picked up the thread on the idea when its original organizer dropped out for medical reasons. Wahl planned the route almost entirely from his laptop and didn’t have time to ride it beforehand or mark the roadway with directional arrows. If trouble arose, there would be no larger group to call for help.

The pre-ride was almost entirely successful in allowing its small group of riders to log enough miles to equal 911 by the time it’s all over on Sunday—but with only six miles to go on the last day, the group met with disaster. On a fast and wet downhill section, one rider hit a tree branch in the road and wiped out, taking two other riders down with him. They estimated that they were travelling about 25 miles per hour when they crashed. The first rider suffered a broken hip and needed a replacement; as of this writing, he’s still in the hospital in Reading, Penn., recuperating from surgery. Another rider was evaluated at the ER and released, although in the days since, he’s complained of sore ribs. The third suffered a shoulder injury. He opted to continue the final six miles to the hotel, finishing the pre-ride using only one arm.

Injuries aside, the crash dealt a blow to their chances of ending with 911 miles under their belts. The rider with the broken hip obviously won’t be seen on a bike for many months. The one with the bruised ribs had to make up six miles (which he did). Another rider, the one in the hand-cycle, lost a day during the R2R ride from a fever likely caused by riding in the wind and rain for several days in a row, putting him 50-plus miles short of the others. He’s made up remarkable ground, but will still finish about 20 miles shy of 911.

The remaining riders (including the film’s director, Michael de Yoanna) have broken the 800-mile mark and are on course to hit 911 sometime tomorrow, as the group approaches the Pentagon. True to the spirit in which the pre-ride was conceived, those who are out of the running have said it doesn’t matter if they can’t make it as individuals—they’re now supporting those who can still meet the 911-mile goal. “As long as someone in the group makes it,” I’ve heard more than once, “then it’s a success.”

Throughout the R2R ride, the pre-riders have broken up into the larger pack, reuniting with other friends and making new ones, which is one of the many points of these rides. But tomorrow, as the magic mile approaches, they will seek each other out in the pack and reunite to cross the 911-mile threshold. As a filmmaker, capturing the moment will be a gratifying capstone of many weeks of filming—but it will be far more meaningful on a personal level to witness.

They may not know it, but these riders have taught me quite a bit about overcoming adversity, pushing through challenges, and relying on your friends. They are lessons that never grow old.

Check here tomorrow for a guest post by Michael, who will report on the ride’s finale and the singular experience of cycling 911 miles with a group of truly unique and inspiring American soldiers.