A Child’s Humility Unfolding on a Man’s Ego

          The sun rises and a brilliant light fills the living room.  Its day 8 of the RISE tour, and a realization has set in.  The entire situation is like being smashed in the face with a shovel.  We set out on this mission first for our brothers, and quickly understood that it was inclusive to all.  Immediately the idea snowballed, and I made the faulty misconception of believing I understood the magnitude of what was about to unfold.  My resolve seemed emboldened about the path that lay before us with every thank you, handshake, and embrace.  Furthermore, any queer look or naysayer only seemed to ignite a brighter flame.  In hindsight this masculine bravado has set the stage for a bruising to my ego.

Einstein once said that Imagination is more important than knowledge.  I agree with this thought, but one thing that out ways imagination is experience.  The first two days were an overwhelming data stream of unimaginable experience.  Just in the Day one of our tour, the gravity of our journey was emotionally palpable.  Darkness filled the skies of the Bay area, pelting us with rain and tempest like wind.  The Coast Guard of Station Golden Gate sent us off with an honorable ceremony of true fellowship.  Never had I imagined in my wildest dreams that we would have been given that gift.  If anything it pumped us up for the first 3 miles or so.  Still, the rain & wined persisted punishing us with every pedal stroke as we moved forward.

On Day 2 we traveled from Los Altos to Santa Cruz.  This day was to be a much shorter distance than the first.  Seems easy enough, only this day a Mountain stood between our destination and us.  We were warned time and time again as the night of March 1^st drew to an end, but no warning could prepare us for the truth that lies in experience.  It became clear to us quickly, not only were we to take the back roads, but we were to take the back of the back roads.  After only 15 miles, we began our ascent into the mountain pass.  We pushed our bikes for five miles up 4,000 ft of steep hill.  I have never been so tired, frustrated and beet down in my life, but I was in the midst of such uncharted beauty…uncharted for my eye.

The first real lesson came with the community of Santa Cruz.  Outside of speaking with survivors, the conversation seemed to always drift toward self-care.  How are Zak & Thomas taking care of themselves?  I never thought about that. In fact, despite the lack of training we had, I was pretty confident in my ability to ride long distance.  I never once considered the emotional weight and the physicality of the ride to be such a drain.  The experience and advice from Santa Cruz was tested soon after, and it was a moment that forced us to reassess our situation.

Our moment to tackle the Pacific Coast Highway from Pacific Grove to Plaskett had come.  This particular part of the PCH is nothing less than breath taking, and I personally had been fanaticizing about the days ride for some time.  Unfortunately, Mother Nature had her own agenda for what type of day would be set out for us.  The evening before brought a powerful rain & windstorm, which left a mark in its wake.  Every road & highway our tires passed over that morning were filled with debris.   Most disconcerting is the wind’s full gale whirling in around noontime up to 55 miles per hour.

We pushed on as the wind began to rear its ugly head.  Atop of 500 ft. cliffs with no guardrail, what was most frightening was how strange it seemed to witness the waves breaking so far out.  Minute after minute and stride after stride, the wind endured and intensified with a dramatic ferocity.  The wind was so fierce; it pushed us with ease as we moved through the hills.  Most demoralizing were those moments when the wind held us back from gaining speed when on the down slope.  Pushing into of our 30-mile stretch for the day, we stopped for a break. 

The memories, or should I call them lesson’s, of Santa Cruz taunted us.  Like a terrifying howl that echoes through the night, demanding your full attention to the situation.  Luckily, our friend Sumer was our support vehicle.  With miles ahead to traverse through dangerous terrain and weather, it was time to make a choice.  Give into our egos and do the mileage to say that we did it, or be mind full of self care; look out after each other and carry the message that life experience bestowed to us to carry across the country.

This was a moment of sobering clarity.  What was our sole purpose for this ride?  We talk a lot about community and collaboration.  It’s been our mantra, but for a year we never considered that we display that creed when it came to the physical & logistical terms of the tour.  Sumer being there helped in more ways than one.  She embodied reason through voice and presence.  Zak & I gave into the needs of the tour, rather than what we had planned in our mind to both complete 7,000+ miles each.  To accomplish our goal, we will have to be a team.  As a cycling team, we must exemplify the very creed we pontificate through out social media, and meetings.  The RISE cyclists must be an autonomous community that adapts in every situation that arises.  For this lesson, I thank Santa Cruz…

...too many giggles.