6/20/26

He sits there looking at me wide eyed anxiety in the air…about to start his third year of medical school, but  can’t pass his exams. Dyslexia is such a hindrance it impedes progress at every turn. As his Clinical Professor I offer to help by tutoring several days a week . .. it makes no sense for him to stop having come this far over two years. Six weeks later, he passes the first part of his Boards and move on to his clinical years. He bestows thanks  on me in unending grace.

7 years later…

I sit with him one night while both of us on call in the ER of a rural NC hospital. He has successfully completed an orthopedic surgery residency and has decided to go it alone. We sit quietly in the middle of the night while he waits for x-rays to return. Tears come to his eyes and he tells me that the other orthopedic surgeons in town have isolated and black balled him …competition to be cut down. He’s decided however, to go it alone. 

Five years on, I’m taking care of his son who has developed juvenile rheumatoid arthritis..the outcome is quite good and again we all move on. 

5 years more and I am referring patients to him for surgical repairs . ..

10 years pass by now  both of us  starting white haired crowns…

on a trek from Bar Harbor to Seattle from 1500 miles away I call him for help with a rider who has  fallen with a swollen bloody knee…

all turns out well. 

12 years pass by and now to this ride …a swollen wrist in front of me … a crash on a mountain decline … I fear a fractured scaphoid bone…I again call him for advice…not to my liking I turn out to be right…

As I drive on to the next rest  stop, I ponder a circle of events and think about how I once helped a young man pass exams only to find myself years later with him holding my hand across 30 years of maturing  and 400 miles of land. The winding path goes on…

These rides are exhausting and sometimes it’s hard to write so for my dear readers I’ll make just a list of events from the past three days…

Leaving Charlottesville  ( where I bent the axle of the trailer … now fixed…) 

I ride to a marvelous orchard at the base of the climbs. 

There I pair up with a struggling rider to help her up to Skyline Drive

…4 hours on… with 40-50  resting stops…the two of us way back … she breathes a sigh of relief at what she thinks is the top. The view is stupendous. 

Unfortunately for her the climbs have just begun. 1 mile on she waves the white flag and her day is done. I call for the support van … it  comes back to ferry her forward for the rest of the day. 

2 hours later after a total of a 6900 foot climb I sail into camp down a steep mountain side… Vesuvius the most difficult climb and descent of the coast to coast ride..my hydraulic brakes smoking on the drop down.

Route Leader responsibilities let me ride each third day so I next drive to Troutville for the nights stay.

Upon arrival we set up camp as riders coast in. Two come to me to ask me to looks at someone’s wrist. 

A fall yesterday down the descent of Vesuvius ..he doesn’t tell me then not wanting to stop the trip …  riding 60 miles   with “moderate” pain…

I fear a fracture and switch into MD mode… make quick call to NC… see above…

I walk into town, find the local physicians office for an X-ray machine only to fine the closest is 15 miles ahead. I call  and they make an immediate spot for him…a scaphoid fracture on the films sends him packing to Texas back home. 

A powerful thunderstorm comes pounding through that night but we are all safely tucked into a church much to our delight. 

At sunrise we move on to Blacksburg where we have a rest day and service projects for the less fortunate suffering from the rages of MS … our discomforts are nothing compared to theirs. They will host us tonight for a celebration dinner to mark  400,000$ raised by these marvelous riders I am helping  each day.

We have now completed the first stage of the trip and tomorrow begin to cross the Eastern Divide…

Kentucky  and your dogs…here we come… 

 

6/16/26

Today is the third day of soul bending heat. There will be more…

Our first ride day … 95 degrees with a heat index of 99. Locals from Richmond have  enough sense to be off the bike paths… we have no choice…40 miles in  …sweltering heat  and as Sweep I coax three newbie riders as best I can .  When  it becomes clear that one is  not sweating I call a stop at an unoccupied historic farmhouse, get off my bike and find  a hidden spigot. I know  if it works the water temp will be 55F… it does  and much to their surprise I drench each head to foot… twice… one after shock and surprise asks for a third…

They make it to the end with smiles on their faces not knowing they have just tasted the Forge. 

Day two I drive support with two young women route leaders  riding sweep… 83 miles in heat. 

Arriving in camp they sit exhausted looking like deer in headlights. I walk into town to buy them sapodillas for desert…they need something to pull them from the Heat of their Forge. I get a surprise kiss on each cheek…

Today I fall  into the Forge  and get  my soul singed…

Driving the support van and trailer I arrive into town for our nights stay at a church. 

30 yards from the parking lot I am careful not to hit a parked car on the right only to hit a 2 ft stone wall on the left… popping a trailer tire, bending the wheel rim and possibly the axle to boot … final assessment pending as I type. 

An afternoon is  ruined as we search for a repair crew without success …the other six route leaders kindly leaving me to pout , sulk, hurt, want to crawl into a hole of embarrassment and even go home ( I call my  wife and in a kind way she says absolutely not )….the riders seem less concerned and approach me with joint pains, early saddle sore rashes and dietary concerns… I put on my professional MD face and do my work…why not it’s better than a pout…

The route leaders  are  gracious …finally daring  to approach me  to say anyone  could have hit that wall and that they are  glad  I am  on the ride. 

Finally with help of the Central MS Office a plan is formed and 4 of us drive  200 miles back  to Blacksburg to get another trailer for all the riders “stuff”. 

We will get back at midnight …in 7 hours I will put this all behind me  to join on a bike helping  riders on their first true mountain climb …while the wounded trailer makes its way to a  mechanic’s  shop. 

The Forge takes many forms… the trick is not to get burned , to have someone by your side to pull you from the flames…and to go on…and on…and on…

6/10/26

There is Something or Someone out there guiding our lives…

With age comes acceptance of the Unknown…

On my rides I have often had discomfort interacting and working with  younger generations.  Many Boomers have similar problems as priorities of successive lots are often at odds with each other…

For this ride I had  more than  mild discomfort at the age difference between me and the other six route leaders… I could easily be a grandfather to each…

But…after meeting them I feel an unusual instant bonding connection … and recognize what quality people they are…

Only later much to my surprise did I come to realize why…

A young British woman just graduated from University who lives in East Anglia , rural England where as a medical student I studied  neurology at Cambridge and worked extensively with MS patients…

A young midwestern woman who was born and raised 20 miles west of my paternal grandmother in Missouri…I spent many a summer there…

A  young woman from Portland Oregon… I’ve ridden with her grandfather twice…

A young man in the last year of pre med whose parents are a Retinal Surgeon and a Psychiatrist… my life long Yin and Yang of Medicine …love of Psychiatry and fear of Ophthalmology/  Eye Surgery … (eyeballs creep me out)…

A young bike mechanic from  Colorado Springs where I grew up as a child and fell in love with Mountains…

And finally a young man who will move to Australia soon to start a new life… a secret fantasy from my childhood.

Odd how I was supposed to get out of my comfort zone to trek across country only to have  fallen somehow into a different  kind of Comfort Zone… 6 people who mark various stages of my life …

 I know that I am supposed to be here… I feel that to the core…

I trust the Unknown just as I will trust these six over the next 11 weeks of my life…

Karma has enveloped me in Calm. 

Angel and Elsie are smiling from above … they have known all along…

6/2/26

Shivering with cold and fright, he lifts his binoculars and looks out over the starlight  night embracing  the cold North Atlantic Sea. 19 years old, the first time away from home…

Suddenly he sees it…a ripple in the water quickly approaching the merchant ship…a U boat torpedo ready to strike home!

Moments later an explosion… 

he is knocked to his feet and suddenly surrounded by freezing cold. 

Panic sets in, he flounders and sinks below the waves along with the rest of his crew …their bodies never found. Empty life rafts bob uselessly amongst the debris…

9/21/1940…a convoy 0f 42 merchant ships …11 sink and hundreds drown.

Their Guardian angels weep, tears turning to ice as they touch the waves below. 

The British Authorities realized that most of those perished could have they been saved if they had not panicked and floundered …death from paralyzing fear. 

And so was born the School of Outward Bound…an ocean survival training which markedly reduced the loss of human life in the next few years of the War to come.

After WW2 the educational Courses of Outward Bound grew and now are found all over the World. Their goal? To teach individuals how to recognize that inner fears and insecurities  limit and hold us all from moving forward in every walk of life. 

I have attended three such courses, through the mountains of North Carolina, a Winter survival in the wilderness of Maine and finally in open 30 foot pulling boats in the North Atlantic off the coast of Maine for 10 days…most terrifying for me a summer storm …no land in sight with 40 foot waves crashing around. 

As strengthening as Outward Bound is the experience is just an open window on one’s abilities to survive challenging unknown times. 

Years ago after my first ride for MS from Bar Harbor to Seattle I assured all that I’d never ride like that again. I was soon challenged to “get out of my comfort zone.” 

The more I thought about it the more I realized that Outward Bound showed the way but only by repeatedly “getting out of the comfort zone “ can one truly reach their potential…so I rode again and again.

In one week I will be riding from Norfolk Virgina to San Francisco California…again challenging myself.

A thousand years ago in Syria blacksmiths developed a near perfect metal called Damascus steel.  Harder than anything known at the time it still remains a metal worker’s miracle product…formed and pounded in forges so intense to challenge the human skills.

So too are these rides such forges which through time pound, push, mold  the soul towards its more perfect form. 

Each time I ride I become something more…

There will come a time when I will finally be too old to be further formed…that is a reality of life. 

And when I pass my Guardian Angel will drop a tear but not from grief but from joy at a life fulfilled. And the tears will turn not to North Atlantic Ice but rather nurture beautiful flowers below.