Winds of Acceptance

I had a decidedly challenging day today. Leaving Norman, Oklahoma at noon, I had what I planned to be a 50 mile day ahead of me. I looked at the forecast. 91 degrees with 25-35mph winds from the South, gusting to around 40mph. I was heading South. Along with the wind, I had a (doable) 900 foot climb.

At this point in the tour, I've had days like this...I've become more confident than ever on the bicycle, though. Perhaps too confident.

I guess what I'm learning is that one good day of conquering challenges doesn't necessarily warrant the next. I've had longer days. I've had way more climbing to do in a day. I've had much worse weather than I did today. I've had days where I started out on a measly two hours of sleep after freezing in a tent the night before, coupled with the fact that I had only cleaned the previous day's ride off of me with baby wipes. Gross. The strange thing about that day: it was to be my longest yet (at the time), and I rode like a champion. Weird, I know.

Today was one of those days, but on the other end of the spectrum. I planned on killing it today, having had a long night's rest, a wonderful breakfast, and a warming send-off from some of Thomas' family in Norman. As I pulled out of the neighborhood onto Highway 9, the wind slapped me in the face. I felt like I was riding in water. It was demoralizing.

I knew I had to make it, though, and make it I did. I downshifted to my middle chainring up front, accepted the fact that today was going to be one of my slowest days yet, and settled in for the challenge. As I mentioned above, I'm confident in my riding skills on the bike now. The biggest challenge on these days is the mental aspect. If you've ever ridden into constant 25+mph winds for 50 miles, you know what I mean. Most of you probably haven't, though. That's fine. I'm nobody special for having done it, it's just one of the physical challenges that I've accepted as part of this tour.

Throughout the day, while fighting the wind and its endless efforts to knock me over, I had the opportunity to get some serious thinking done. (As is the case with most of my days on the bike.) On the "easier" days, I can focus on the music I'm listening to, analyzing data for the ride, and observing the landscape for example. Today, though, was a different story. I found myself searching for motivation to continue battling the elements. I thought about the people I've met along the way that have so many daily tribulations, dealing with pain, loss, grief, healing, anger, and the like; people that have told me that I'm an inspiration to them. I also thought about a lot of the cyclists I've met who have encouraged me to 'just keep pedaling' on those tough days. I'd be remiss if I didn't also mention that I have a desire to impress them on some level with how hard I'm riding. That competitive spirit that is within me, competing against only myself, is fed by those fellow cycling enthusiasts' words.

I also found myself ruminating the metaphorical relationship between this kind of physical challenge and life's daily challenges. Some days are all uphill, some days are beautiful, peaceful, and seemingly effortless. Still others are stormy, and we can often feel as though we're not going to make it to the finish line. The confidence I've built comes from accepting and conquering those tough days and then using that confidence to inspire success on the next difficult day. It does, however, take a certain level of mental discipline to remember that we (I) can make it through those tough days. It is often too easy to focus on the difficulties we are facing, rather than realizing the sense of accomplishment that we have earned before, and will again achieve if we believe in ourselves. Today's example was brought to my attention by Thomas: I had some wide, smooth shoulders to ride. For all the wind, hills, fatigue, sweat, hunger, and insatiable thirst, I had a fairly safe and comfortable route to travel. I had considered the shoulders once earlier in the day, but lost track of that during some gnarly gusts that almost threw me off the road and/or completely stopped me in my tracks, literally!

I'm not sure the lesson was completely learned, but I feel pretty good about what I accomplished today. I rode 57 miles in that wind, and for that I'm proud. I hope each and every one of you will believe in yourself in those tough moments, and have the mental discipline to find the positive in every situation. It has been a very hard thing for me to accept on this tour, but it is because my brother, Sean, chose to end his life that I have had the honor and pleasure to meet so many inspiring and wonderful people on this ride. For this experience, I am so grateful. Would I trade it to have my brother and best friend back? Of course I would, but that is not an option. I can only do my best with what I have.

And do my best, I will. That is a choice that I have made, and I fully accept all of the challenges and consequences (good and bad) with which it comes.

Tough Lesson Learned: Day 4 of Riding

Photo by Zachary Chipps near Big Sur, CA

Today was quite a day. Thomas and I were all ready to tackle our longest day yet (67 miles). We had a support vehicle to help carry some of our load, a good night's sleep and a hearty, carb-heavy breakfast under our belts, and what we knew was going to be some of the most beautiful scenery that California has to offer just ahead.

We began our day in Pacific Grove, climbing through town to make it to 17-Mile Drive, then onto Highway 1, where we knew we had some climbing to do, but were also inspired by what was coming...we made it most of the way to Big Sur, and just as we began crossing one of the bridges, we realized we had met our demise: consistent 35-40mph winds with gusts to 55mph. It was demoralizing. Not only because we knew we could no longer ride safely along the upcoming cliffs, but because Thomas and I had made a commitment to each other and to the cause that we would ride every mile of the stretch across the country.

My personal goals for this tour had to be set aside for the sake of what we are trying to accomplish throughout this journey, and I can't lie, it was very difficult to come to terms with. Defeat was the first thought that came into my head, but Thomas set me straight when he said, "Ya know what, bro?! This is what our creed is all about! Collaboration and Community! We work as a team, and this team is much bigger than the two of us!"  (We had made it approximately 30 miles.)

We loaded up the bikes and gear into the back of Sumer's Volvo, I sunk into the back seat, and began to process what had just happened. I realized that what I had been told repeatedly by so many people is exactly true; that I need to learn to take care of myself in the process of trying to spread awareness of this epidemic of suicide. I started this journey with that goal in mind, and if you know me very well at all, you know that I'll sacrifice a lot for the sake of others. I'm so passionate about what we're doing, that my comfort and safety often come as an afterthought. However, that mentality will not get me to New York.

I watched the surreal images of the California coast pass me by through the window to my right, peering through panniers and dismantled bicycles, and the only thought that brought me any comfort was that I have a job to do right now, and maybe someday I can come back to this beautiful place and conquer these hills on my own, on my terms...but for now, it's time to RISE.

Day 1: It's real.

I'm exhausted and exhilarated. To this point, I've only spoken of and imagined what this day would bring. I think it's safe to say I was doing just that...imagining. To have experienced today in all its grandeur was one of the most powerful events of my life.

Thomas and I woke up this morning on board at the Coast Guard Station Golden Gate, packed up the bikes, and had an emotional send-off with approximately 15 shipmates. Thomas and I were so honored to have each of our bikes carried down, under, and up the stairs to other side of the bridge (from the parking lot) where we launched. To see those servicemen doing so really sent home how important this tour is to so many people. Those men and women are on the front lines of this epidemic in their community, and give so much to bring closure to the families who suffer the loss of suicide.

Before we took off, the CO of the base handed each of us a Coast Guard unity coin, explaining that as we shook hands with the coin nestled in our palms, a lasting bond was being made. It was a moving moment.

As we mounted the bikes to begin our journey, it was about 45 degrees, raining, and fog covered the top third of the bridge. It was beautiful, scary, surreal, and oh, yeah...windy! On the other side of the bridge, I looked up the weather conditions to verify that gusts were up to 46mph.

We met with a new friend who lost his brother by way of the bridge, and he was kind enough to guide us through the rest of San Francisco on our way to Los Altos!

We arrived to Los Altos and were treated to dinner and warm beds, along with an opportunity to meet and share with two couples, each of whom have lost a child to suicide.

There are no words to describe the overwhelming compassion and support I've felt today, and it's only the first day.

My continued hope is that as we learn from each of these communities, we can somehow share the blessings with which we've been blessed by these amazing people.

In the interest of brevity, I'm omitting pretty much everything that has happened from our arrival in Santa Cruz on Sunday to our departure this morning. Hopefully some of the video blogs posted will share some of that. Let it be known, though: this week has far-surpassed my wildest dreams and/or expectations. There is so much love out there, and we need to not only live and share it, but first be aware of it! If you didn't know, now you do.

Love and Life,
zak

ps- I'm sinking into my pillow for now, but tomorrow I will RISE again!

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone.

Location:Los Altos, CA