Mark 12:30
“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and will all our mind and with all your strength.”
Friday was a glorious start to an amazing weekend. I got up at my usual time and attended our Men of Faith meeting, then I came home and got Summer off to school, and I stopped at my school to make sure a few things were in order. The day of my last long training ride can be an anxious time. When I arrived at school, all of that was set aside. My friend and colleague’s father in law had passed away just a few hours before. My ride didn’t seem that important any more. They rode with me all day.
Donald came by the house shortly after nine o’clock and we loaded all of my gear into his car. The rain had just begun, and the forecast wasn’t looking good. I had called Donald earlier in the week to tell him that I ride rain or shine. He laughed, “I figured as much.” We rode to Smithfield and found the starting point I had plotted on the map – Hwy 701 and Hwy 96 – right by interstate 95. From this point, I had it measured exactly 100.2 miles to Trinity UMC in Wilmington. The rain had let up when we arrived in Smithfield; the cloud cover was welcome to keep things cool. We made a pit stop at the mini mart that would be my starting point, and then got my gear out of the car. Needless to say, a man in a Toyota Prius following another man in a tight triathlon suit on a funny looking bicycle riding through the countryside of Johnston, Sampson, and Pender counties draw some curious onlookers.
As I started down 701, I quickly realized that Johnston County certainly had its share of rolling hills. The first 90 minutes flew by. We zipped through Newton Grove and the roundabout in Clinton. After those two towns, the buildings were few and far between. I carried two water bottles with me that were mixed with Heed (a complex carbohydrate mix). I planned on drinking a 24 ounce bottle an hour at a minimum. Donald had two other bottles in the car, and we would switch out as needed. The first fifty miles seemed to fly by. At one point, Donald pulled up next to me and laughed, “In case you didn’t notice, Sampson County is known for hog farming!” I had to laugh. If the irrigation systems spraying brown water over the fields weren’t a clue enough, the aroma certainly was!
The peacefulness of the countryside was matched by the pleasantness of the people we met along the way. At one point in Sampson County we came up to a road block and license check that state troopers were running. I waited in line with the cars, and when the trooper looked at me, I said, “If you need to check an ID, it’s in the car behind me.” The trooper just smiled and waived me through. As Donald approached the trooper, the trooper waved him though without a check. Like I said, a man in a Toyota Prius following a guy in a funny outfit on a funny bike… yeah we were together. As I rode, Donald followed me with his hazard lights on. This was a big help for me. I keep a third eye mirror on my helmet, so I can see what is behind me, but having him there helped me focus more on what was in front of me. The truckers were gracious as they planned their approach and pass each time. At one point, I noticed that a car had just pulled even with me and was pacing me. When I looked over to see who it was, I recognized the trooper from the checkpoint twenty miles back. He laughed and called out, “I thought you’d be further along by now! Be safe!” and he pulled off.
At one point I pulled into a rest stop. I didn’t need one (I can take care of things along the road if needed), but I was sure Donald might need one. As we pulled out back into the traffic, I recognized several of the truckers who had passed me earlier. Each one waved excitedly when the saw me again. That was quite a gift; it gave me a needed lift.
About the 60 mile mark, I pulled over. We were on Hwy 421 now, the long stretch to Wilmington. My stomach wasn’t feeling right. I had been eating bananas and cliff bars along with drinking my Heed, but I needed something real – preferably carbohydrate. Donald asked me if I was alright, and I told him what I needed. He went into a store to see what he could get. After unsuccessfully trying to get the girl behind the counter to make an egg sandwich, he bought some pretzels and other snack items. I had gone ahead while he went in the store. Several miles down the road, we met up and he gave me the pretzels… just what I needed. I learned through chemotherapy to listen to my body. Ironically, the feeling I get in my stomach on long rides and runs is very similar to the nausea from chemo. I need pretzels and starchy carbohydrates to absorb the sugars in my stomach. I was feeling better, but as I told Donald, I knew the next 20 miles would be the worst.
I was starting to get some swelling in my left leg – a byproduct of my lymphodema. This was a little bit different this time as my knee was hurting as well. It certainly didn’t help that the road was long, and lonely. As I neared 70 miles, I was hurting. I had to get off the bike to stretch my legs to keep the fluid moving. I continued on but I felt my pace was slowing and I didn’t know why. I stopped again at 83 miles; I was hurting. Donald pulled over and checked on me as I stretched. When I told him that I felt like I was slowing down, he said, “Hey, I’ve taken some pictures, and you look as strong in the last few miles as you did in the first few.” I chuckled and made reference to Billy Crystal’s “Fernando” … It is better to look good than to feel good. Donald laughed and said, “Chris, I need to tell you something. Look back.” I looked back and saw the problem. “You’ve been riding a steady uphill for the last 15 miles that started at 50 feet below sea level. I checked my GPS because I thought it was wrong, but look back.” Sure enough, I saw it. It was subtle enough that I didn’t notice it mentally, but my body sure noticed it.
“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and will all our mind and with all your strength.”
The rest of the ride was a prayer of thanks. I later told Donald, that he got to see what happens on race day. That wasn’t totally true. Since he was behind me, he didn’t see me crying, but I wept like a baby. This race is about hope. I have been blessed. Because of Him, I am a survivor. At the point when I feel like I can’t go on, I think of all those who wish they could simply walk, and I thank God for all I have.
We rode the final miles through some of the neighborhoods in downtown Wilmington that are left off the tourist map. Donald told me later about the women and kids waving to me as I rode through. One man came down a handicap ramp in an electric wheelchair and shouted, “Hey man, how are ya doin’! Wanna race?” We bantered back and forth laughing to each other. He didn’t know I was 95 miles into a ride and he had just given me a wonderful spiritual lift. We waved to each other and wished each other well as he rode off through a nearby park.
Donald rode ahead as we were within a couple of miles of the church. As I turned the corner onto College Street, I thought for sure I could go 40 more miles. As I turned into the Trinity UMC Family Life Center and saw Donald and Dick waiting for me, one thing was clear. I have been blessed. I got off my bike, took off my helmet and glasses, and wiped the wind dried tears. Donald grabbed my hand and smiled, “101.5 miles. Congratulations.” It wasn’t me; I was never alone. Now, I was back at the home of WARM. My training was ending where it all began.
May we all live every day loving God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength.
In Love and Peace,
Chris