California III
The Pacific - Part 3 of 4
"I find I'm so excited, I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it's the excitement only a free man can feel, a free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain. I hope I can make it across the border. I hope to see my friend and shake his hand. I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope." - Red, The Shawshank Redemption
This line never gets old. I appreciate it more today than the first time I heard it. The small things that excite us are just microcosms of deep underlining truths. Like Red, a man who thought hope was a dangerous thing, yet at the end of the movie, the hope of seeing the Pacific and reuniting with his friend is a reflection of the growth in the character. In my journey, hope has taken a new meaning. More than a wishful expectation, but a future reality pulling me to be better, stronger, and healthier so I can fully enjoy the good coming my way.
The next day, I awoken to tall beautiful trees swaying in the wind, birds chirping and flying over head, and the sound of the river rushing over rocks near by. Despite the pleasantries, my body did not respond as well as my ears did. My legs sour, back tight, but I had to get back on that bike. I believed for whatever reason that I had more to experience. This sustained me as anxiety flooded my mind with reminders that today was the nine-mile uphill. Nine miles of continual inverted road, some parts steeper than before, but I knew I had to do it. For the recognition? No. For the joy? not so much. I was doing it for myself. To know that I could do it and not regret sitting on the sidelines.
Regret is a funny thing. It comes at your lowest or highest moments and reminds you of when you didn’t measure up, when you didn’t do what you knew you should do or even wanted to do. It’s like fear and regret are two enemies, who decided to become friends to stop you from enjoying your life. One keeps you safe away from risk, cowering you away from where you want to be, and the other crushes you with shame-filtered hindsight to remind you of what you didn’t do or couldn’t do. My awareness of this knitted together with previously held excitement lead me to go and not stop until I finished.
I filled my camelback to the brim, ate a large bowl of oatmeal, drank as much water as I possibly could, and started pedaling. I stayed at my own pace for a while, tried to notice the beautiful scenery as we rode along a cliff over looking the river below, yet I couldn’t get too distracted today because I had to put all my energy and focus into one thing…pedaling.
We reached the bottom of the colossus hill that disappeared into the dark cover of trees as it turns uphill into the mountain we were about to climb on our 21-speed bikes. Right before we began, I took a large swig of water and a deep breathe, then something unexpected happened, one of the same young men who called me out the day before gave me pat on the back, looked at me, and said “you got this, let’s go.” I thought, “Hey! Encouragement!”
Less than a third of the way up on this monster defined as a hill, many of the “patrons” decided to put their bikes on the trailer and walk up the mountain, and as I sluggishly pedaled by, most, if not all, cheered me on. Every two miles the van would be parked on the side of the road with water, sports drinks, and food to fuel us. Each time, the van seemed farther and farther apart than the time before. However, I climbed to mile two then four and six, taking breaks every so often or pushing my bike when I was unable to pedal up a steep incline. Whatever I was doing to keep going for those nine miles was working, and now looking back, I was pushing myself beyond my limits.
Which makes me wonder about limits. Are they based in reality or are they self-imposed? After Day One, I saw myself as out of shape, a failure, and maybe too old or too far gone from a life of athletics to do anything like this. With each pedal and with each turn moving up the mountain, I began to deconstruct these thoughts. The pain caused from the day before was only a reminder of what I had to overcome, but a significant reminder in this journey of mine was I wasn’t alone in it.
Those who remained on their bike for this climb were separated into two groups: those who were physically prepared for this trip far ahead of me and those who may have not been, yet made the same decision as me…to keep pedaling and reach the top of this nine-mile climb. These were the people I was surrounded by, younger than me but equally in the struggle and equally determined. Which might be the answer to my previous question, when alone in life, we do what makes sense to self, and what makes sense is survival. However, when looking through the lens of others and shared experiences, we live with a broader perspective. This creates or gives us a willingness and an understanding of what it might take to keep going beyond what we think is possible…for ourselves and others.
Therefore, of all the factors that gave me the fortitude to push pass my supposed limits, I believe the most significant was people. People in the struggle, pedaling with tenacious intention and hopes of reaching the top with a feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment. People along side me reminding me what was possible if we just go a little further. Particularly one young fellow glutton for torture who wouldn’t let me for one second get off my bike to push it. She believed the feeling we wanted at the end would come most if we gave it everything for every second of every inch we took. Relentless she was, but I needed it. I needed a mindset stronger than my own to keep me going. Which leads me to the realization that even more than people to just go through the struggle with us, we need those gone before us, willing to take the time to help us along the way.
The last two miles of the nine-mile uphill, I received a gift from our trip leader. A man who come do this bike trip in his sleep. In the remaining hills, he allowed me to draft off of him as we climbed. Drafting for those who don’t know is what allowed Lance Armstrong to win seven Tour de France titles (well that and a “secret” ingredient). He had teammates willing to take the brunt of the wind in front of him so his ride had less resistance. Therefore, after a while, especially pedaling uphill, you reserve energy to finish the climb. This gave me the last boost I needed to finish and reserve energy for the last 37 miles of our trip. The part that made it all worthwhile.
To be continued…
