“ New York . My dream!”gasps Reza Baluchi, overwhelmed by emotion, to one of his numerous supporters on the cell phone. “I made it! I made it!” he says, his voice shaking as he starts sobbing.

It’s September 11, 2003 , and the last day of a seven-year running and cycling endeavor in the name of peace that has taken the 31-year-old Iranian-born Baluchi across a record49,700 miles through 55 countries.

The sight of this small man with wiry arms, sturdy thighs, and a face drowned in tears is incongruous. But his appearance is understandable, given the incredible nature of his achievement. Baluchi began the U.S. leg of his trip on May 11, when he left Los Angeles , running an average of 31 miles a day—a distance in excess of a marathon run a day—in order to make it on time to New York and pay homage to the victims of the World Trade Center on the second anniversary of the attacks. Along the way, Baluchi won the hearts of hundreds of supporters from all walks of life, with many of them turning out to support him in this moment of triumph.

Born in 1972 in a small agricultural village in the north of Iran , Baluchi took up running to alleviate boredom. “There was not much to do back home,” he says. “I liked to run. I would run from my house to school and then run back in the afternoon.” When he was nine, he ran away from home, much farther this time, until he eventually reached his aunt’s house in the capital, Tehran . There, he began working as an apprentice in a mechanic’s shop, dropping out of school after five years of elementary education. As a teenager, Baluchi took up cycling as part of a team.

What initially inspired Baluchi to undertake this global journey toward the United States is not immediately apparent. Certainly he was dissatisfied with the strict living conditions in the Islamic Republic of Iran and seduced, as many underprivileged males, by the alluring image of Western salvation. “I am the son of agriculturists and I don’t have much education,” he explains, “but I biked. That’s what I did best.” To Baluchi, it only seemed natural to apply what he considered his prominent talent as a means to reach his aspiration.Pumped by the physical challenge of his journey and driven by the motivation to “show what an Iranian can do,” he left the country in 1996 with $400 in his pocket.

But drifting through various cultures and experiencing different encounters was an incredible eye- and mind-opener. Touched by the generosity of those who crossed his path, Baluchi believed he should do something to help in return. Using an Iranian expression, he explains: “You see, when a hand washes the other hand, the latter turns and cleans the face.

Baluchi’s perspective became enlarged, and so did the nature of his statement. He began adopting the self-assigned role of facilitator between nations and cultures following the September 11 tragedy, when he decided that he was a messenger of peace between all races and religions. “For the anniversary of September 11,” he claimed, “I will deliver my message of hope at Ground Zero, the eye of the world.”

Baluchi’s expedition across Europe , Asia , Australia , Latin America , and, finally North America was fraught with difficulties. He suffered from hunger on many occasions, slept with his bike on roadsides, and washed in rivers. He caught malaria in Zimbabwe , was hit by a car in South Africa , and had a severe intestinal disease in the Amazon basin. The boat he was on to Panama almost capsized. He cried many times, out of disappointment, pain, and fear of not being able to make it still farther.

Sometimes the problems he encountered were less personal in nature but equally critical to achieving his goal. “I would just not be given the visa,” says Baluchi. “What can you do with an Iranian passport? So I had to change plans and cycle all the way back. I would cry and cry but I would pedal and pedal, sometimes up to 180 miles a day.”

Baluchi believes that his nationality also hindered his chances by preventing him from being sponsored. “If I had been European, I would have been sponsored. I would have made it in a year!” he says.

Baluchi ran into even bigger problems in the United States . To the U.S. immigration patrol that discovered him near the border with Mexico . I n November 2002, he was just another illegal Middle Eastern immigrant. He was taken to the Florence Immigration and Naturalization Services detention facility in Arizona , where he was held for four months.

But his fate was to be different from other Middle Eastern male immigrants in the United States. As a youth in Iran , Baluchi had been arrested and punished for “crimes” that included wearing a Michael Jackson tee-shirt; carrying a banned prerevolutionary movie; and eating during Ramadan, the sacred Muslim period of fasting. These run-ins with Iranian authorities lent credibility to Baluchi’s appeal, allowing his lawyer to prevent his deportation from the United States .

Support from the people in Arizona also contributed to his release. Following an article about him in the Arizona Republic , a support group, the Arizona Alliance for Peaceful Justice, launched the “Free Reza” campaign. Friends and supporters addressed countless letters to immigration officials appealing on behalf of Baluchi. Immigration Judge LaMonte Freercks conceded and granted Baluchi political asylum, even handing him a box of chocolate as a token of his support.

Free to resume his mission, Baluchi announced that he would go to California and, this time, run across the nation toward New York . “Running is more difficult,” he believes, “and my message of peace will be that much stronger.”

Baluchi’s story could have been just about immigration, but his global journey, thanks to his faith and infinite willpower, embraced an extraordinary social and political dimension. His optimistic outlook on the world and contagious idealism soothed the hidden grievances of people he met on his route. His universal message spurred many to offer him food, shelter, odd jobs, and all types of random support (such as free consultations by a dentist and a cardiologist). His disarming naiveté inspired others to adopt his hopes for a better future.

“Reza looks Middle Eastern, sounds Middle Eastern, and certainly says that he is Middle Eastern,” according to Nathaniel Batchelder, an Oklahoma Peace House activist. “And he conveys the desire to connect with us. He personifies the wish we all have for peace.” In Oklahoma City, Baluchi visited the national memorial of the1995 bombing attack and attended a reception held by Code Pink, a peace organization. Batchelder describes Baluchi’s story as one of faith in humanity.

In Tennessee , Baluchi was perceived as a positive role model for Iranian-American kids struggling to straddle the wide culture gap between Iran and their new home. “Our generation has been the silent majority in this society,” explains Abbas Yavari, the 44-year-old president of the Iranian Association of Middle Tennessee . “But Reza is accomplishing something that shows our children they can get more involved in the American society, that they too can do something special.”

Twenty-three-year-old Iranian-American Neemah Esmailpour, who traveled alongside Baluchi between Arkansas and New York , says, “Baluchi has figured something that a lot of people out there have not: You can do anything if you put your mind to it.”

On this morning of September 11, 2003 , Baluchi finally ran across the George Washington Bridge , holding a large American flag, followed by several of his fans. His request to access Ground Zero’s site was not accepted; instead, he ended his journey further downtown at Battery Park. Surrounded by dozens of admirers, Baluchi is exhausted but triumphant. His yellow bike, his only possession, lies next to one of the park’s statues. Against its wheels is one of his many signs. It reads: “War is not the answer.” Á

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