Strength In Numbers

Strength In Numbers

Before dawn rose or birds greeted the day, I witnessed several hundred determined souls joined together in the darkness to take on a challenge that most would question their sanity for even considering.  The dark of night could not keep the path before us shaded.  Streaming down from each set of handle bars and helmet mounts, beams of light created patches of glowing puddles that illuminated the pathways we rode through.

As we cleared the undergrowth, and slowly cranked each pedal stroke up the traversing slope, I looked up and saw a beautiful sight in the darkness.  In the distance, hundreds of cyclists were lighting the way like a crystal strand of white Christmas lights criss-crossing back and forth up a tree until the final strand turned out of sight near the top.  Each individual point of light symbolized a warrior on a quest that only he or she could accomplish . . . but not alone.

I began my quest with a dear friend, Ed, who chose to be my support, as well as taking on a personal challenge of his own that no one had done before.  This race, consisting of 44 miles and an 8000-foot elevation gain, had been completed on bikes with no suspension, and bikes with only one gear (single-speeds), but never on a fifty-pound beach cruiser with only a single coaster brake to slow it down.  I had borrowed Ed’s twenty-one pound, hard-tail beauty the night before because of mechanical problems with my own bike.  So here he was on the heaviest bike to journey these slopes, and I on one of the lightest.  Yet, I would still question jokingly, “Who really has the handicap?  After all, Ed, you’re an outright animal but I still have a weakened body from chemotherapy.”  Such an unlikely, yet perfect team we were as we crested each mountain in determination to continue on and not quit.

Shortly into our painful quest, a third person joined our pack creating the perfect trio.  Terri, like Ed, rode the race by my side becoming that voice of reason when mine had wandered off.  This made the eight hours of climbing bearable and the adventure conquerable.

The downhill was truly amazing; I had a front row seat to a miracle.  Picture if you would, a fast, steep, and loose switchback traverse that seems to never end.  If Ed was out of sight, I would know that he was nearby by the scent of overheated grease (which wasn’t suppose to burn below 500 degrees) burning in his hub.  Smoking.  Really, it was smoking, as if the internals were on fire after each major decent.  He actually had to stop at one point to inject more grease, using a syringe just to keep the wheel rolling so that it wouldn’t seize up.  I witnessed first hand, a ballet performed with grace, as crazy as it may seem, watching this phenomenal athlete working the sweet line between control and total calamity on these dangerous downhill slopes.

Being the last racers on the course to make the final cut off, we were swept and accompanied by a motorcycle and a 4-by-4 up the rest of the mountain and down the backside until we hit the final two single tracks.  There, two guys, Brian and Keith, picked up where the motorcycle and 4-by-4 could no longer go.  They brushed the remaining course riding with us to the finish line.

At a time just under ten hours, Ed, Terri, and I were the last three to cross the finish line for the Counting Coup.  The strength and encouragement of these friends allowed me to finish my quest.  As I sat there dusty and tired, I realized I had just ridden a perfect race, on a perfect day, and ironically, finished last.  At that moment, I understood that not all things should be judged by what you’ve done, but rather by what you receive.  On this day, I received the strength of friends.

In Other’s Words:

“You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains

…..You raise me up…to more than I can be”

~ Josh Groban~

(Note: Here is a link to an article in the Orange County Register that talks about the race. http://www.ocregister.com/articles/gold-240490-troy-mountain.html )