5/12/23

The air shimmered as if I were engulfed by a desert mirage. Down to my left through deep gray rocks flowed a beautiful creek from the Pennsylvania hills way up ahead. I had finished my morning rollers and was on a gravel path North.

I sat very still alone in the morning sun as I heard whispers from down below. Hidden by thick green leaves she dared to peep out scanning the woods with her large deep dark eyes. Suddenly I could see them all…a young mother and three little ones camouflaged by the rocks behind.

Escaped slaves…

I sat wondering “ How did I get here?!”… but Time has no boundaries in my world…

The little ones …frightened, hungry and tired …pleaded with their mother for food…

“ Wes lost lil uns…Wes on ours own”.

She looked up to see me standing there next to a bike all decked out in my bright orange garb. Of the three I’m not sure what scared her the most. Before she could dive back into the woods I placed one hand on my heart and with the other pointed forward … North…

Exhausted she seemed to understand…she nodded her head and slowly crawled up the bank with the three little ones behind.

Onward we moved …slowly so slowly …

Dog barks would lead her to scurry down the bank to wade in the stream throwing off the scents. Sometimes all 4 would just disappear for days as I pedaled on… who am I to understand how my travels work…

For a good while I saw none of them but wondered at intermittent shimmerings in the woods to my left.

I finally reached the border and sat down on an old wooden bench. From behind me whispers again and there they were hidden in the creek.

I looked to my right and up ahead could see an old Quaker couple frantically waving a white kerchief. I looked in front of me… a shadow…but the best possible from their time…from a tree marking the Mason Dixon line.

I looked again beneath the branches over the creek and motioned her forward with all due haste.

All 4 stepped out drenching wet and rushed North to freedom at last.

She turned one last time as did the three little ones who now brave enough in safety asked what I was…

“ Dats an Angel of God lil ones”…

I turned to see Angel and Flossie there… they had been leading them all along.

I placed my hand on my heart, she did the same, and we nodded to each other…and both went North …more than a century and a half apart.

Along the way I found the “forget me nots” she had left for me for this very day…seeds planted so long ago…maybe just yesterday.

Todays ride is dedicated to all mothers…

5/11/23

She held my hand to the bus stop and waited …me all in orange with face covered in zinc oxide. Her friends stared in amazement. Along came the bus…

she got on …we each waved …she headed south to school while I rode north. Some goodbyes are memorable.

The day before I left the Lincoln Memorial and headed out on the Crescent Pathway along the Potomac. Crowds of cyclists past me going to work in the other direction. Finally reaching Bethesda after a 12 mile trek I was suddenly lost among skyscrapers and busy traffic. I could not figure out where to go to find the next bike path leading to a spot near my son’s home.

Some 5 miles back I had inhaled a cloud of dust and was still coughing on and off. I tried to stop pedestrians to ask for help but as soon as they smelled me …wearing yesterday clothes… and heard my coughing…they all backed off 10 feet and scurried away.

I finally realized I was on my own. After 15 minutes of searching for a path ,which I later learned was closed , I gave up and decided to take the metro to near my son’s house. I sat in a handicapped seat in a middle car where bikes go …next to an actively hallucinating young man… I suspected drugs but it could have been schizophrenia. The rest of the passengers not politely stared but stayed clear …the two of us… an appropriate handicapped pair… me spewing what I’m sure they thought was TB and him spewing his bizarre rapid moving ideas…

I got off at the last stop and navigated to my sons town but decided to stop at my granddaughter’s school to surprise her.

I arrived and walked in the office asking for the principal who I knew. Out she came… looked at me… jumped back 10 feet … and said “ Who are you and what do you want?!!!” holding her nose…

I reintroduced myself to her surprise and told her I ridden from Florida on my bike to see my kin.

Her jaw dropped… she stared… stammered… and turned to her secretary and told her to go find my granddaughter “ You can see her in the hall not in the classroom with all her friends!”

Our union was less than desired… she was pouting and upset at an assembly they had had…me being there as I was… was just not much out of the ordinary to her.

I kissed her, sent het back to her classroom and peddled to her home… where her mother greeted me with a stare… a jump back 10 feet …and a distant hello.

Ok I realized …first things first… a shower and a washing my clothes.

The rest of the visit was as wonderful as today’s flowers I passed.

For those wondering it was a very difficult day of riding with more than 4300 feet of climbing on endless rollers some with grades of 10%.

We have left the flatlands behind…

5/10/23

I knew it was there.I had seen the impact. I searched through the sands while my fiends hooted I owed them each a dollar. Considering there were five of them and that I only made 4$ a month on my paper route that was a huge amount of money for a 15 year old.

Just 2 minutes before lounging on the summer banks of the Rappahannock River on a weekend fishing trip I had spotted a fly on the tip of my great toe partially poking through my worn out sneakers. With BB gun in hand I had bet them each a dollar I was good enough to kill that fly.

I aimed and shot and was sure I hit my mark.

Scouring the nearby dirt I let out a whoop for there was a BB with half a fly attached. I showed them …and they angrily paid up.

Not dealing with anger too well I went inside the old abandoned plantation home belonging to the family of one of my friends. Down creaky stairs I went to a basement lit by high tiny windows. And on the wall in front of me…shackles which had not been moved in 100 years. I was stunned and suddenly my visions were filled with slaves attached to the walls, even little ones with shackles closer to the floor. Suddenly the 5$ in my hand was meaningless.

Today I pass over that River and look to the southeast and recall those shackles on the wall.

All throughout the South there is debate now about Confederate statues, name places, buildings, military bases,roads etc. I have always had a great respect for History and wonder about the changes being made. Yes they were painful times which still leave scars but I am not wise enough to know if we should change what still stands. We need to learn from our mistakes and then there are still our present countrymen who lost so many souls in that War. I leave that debate to others…

I ride on North.

I know there stood a sign post with a torn sweatshirt sleeve attached…I put it there when I was 14. I was allowed to pedal 8 miles out to the Occoquan River for herring run fishing…again with my five friends. Somehow on one trip my sweatshirt got torn and I put the sleeve there…as a teenage Memorial. It sat there for 2 years…

Suddenly I am in Occoquan and I cross over the foot bridge…it is all on our route…and there not 100 yards away are the rocks from where I fished. I have not seen them in 55 years. The beauty and teenage memories overwhelm me and tears fill my eyes…those of pathos replaced by those of deep joy…

I ride on to Alexandria for my nights stay. It was been a 90 mile ride with a cold rain most of the day but crowds along the way cheered me on.

I find there that the pastor of our night stay church is “to be a sister-in-law” of a good friend, someone who has one of my paintings in her home.

The Möbius strip of time has struck again.

Today I have yet another special treat. The route, 6 miles beyond from our stay tonight goes within 6 blocks of my sons house, within 1 block of my youngest granddaughter’s school. I have been given permission to ride on and tonight I will spend the evening and night with family. Tomorrow I will just be 6 miles ahead of the group as I head towards the Mason Dixon Line and the North leaving memories of slavery behind…

The railroad tracks worked…

5/9/23

Cold rainy day 90 miles. Lots of good stories but too tired to write. Will do so tomorrow …

5/8/23

He looked in the mirror, but was disappointed at the result. The surgeon had assured him that his nose would be beautiful following the procedure. “It’s just a temporary swelling….give it a few days”. Three weeks later he returns ecstatic at his new face and pays the surgeon in full.

As a child, I moved several times usually every nine months due to my father’s job. My mother assured me each time that after a few weeks a new place would feel like home….and to to worry about friends… family was more important. The word “house” or “apartment” in fact, was replaced at about 21 days with the more comfortable “ home”.
Most amputees at about three weeks, develop a new body image and begin to adapt. College students feel more comfortable away at about 21 days. A new habit takes about three weeks to become entrenched.
Repeatedly, three weeks has been shown to be a magic number for any transition in self image or circumstances.
Today as I begin my ride, I approach the 21st day of this trip. I marvel at the change in the way it feels to ride. It’s easier, more fluid, and even rollers in the hills offer little in the way of a challenge.

Suddenly I recall the magic number of three weeks. I have transitioned from someone in training, someone starting a ride, to actually being a long distance cyclist.
The past three weeks have not been easy for me. I think I’ve had more emotional and mental distress than in any of my previous 11 rides. The Pathos at times has been overwhelming.
As a child I was often on a bowling team and learned to draw railroad tracks after a few bad frames… a starting over point…
I begin my ride today mentally drawing railroad tracks and saying I now leave the pain and suffering behind and go forward for beauty, challenge, adventure and fun.
As a sign I pass over parallel interstate lanes leading to my home.

Not much further along I cross the Amtrak line which leads north to my son and south to my home.

Today we intersect with the trans American route which goes from Yorktown to San Francisco. I stand and look at the sign and remember my previous rides and move North towards Maine to repeat the fun.

Just south of Fredericksburg ,my night’s stay , I cross the Amtrak line again and lo and behold see my usual train going home.

Angel and Flossie appear and watch it disappear down the tracks, turn to smile at me and say yes, leave the Pathos behind.

5/7/23

Today is a much needed rest day. Laundry, bike maintenance, food assessment, physical health assessment, mental health, sleep, read.

Would be nice to paint…

5/6/23

Spring shows itself again this morning.

After crossing the James River by ferry I land at Jamestown where this part of the country began. 

A replica of the ship which brought settlers sits in a shallow harbor and I wonder at the courage of those who dared the crossing more than 4 centuries ago.

I head northwest on a bike path safe from the road …it leads to Richmond our nights stay.

Not far in my path is blocked and I wait for them to cross.

The water is calm over the Chickahominy River emptying into the James. 

The day is beautiful, small puffy clouds in the sky, a warm sun and no wind.

3/4 in I see ahead of me a commotion and a rider from the other direction go down. There are a few women riding in my direction closer to him. 

As I get nearer I have a foreboding  that something terrible is wrong. The rider on the ground in the woods is not moving, not even his legs. 

As I get closer one of the women tells me she is a nurse and that…he is dead.

“ His pupils are fixed and dilated, look at the tilt of his head”.

Yes it sits at a strange angle on his neck and he remains motionless. At first I thought he was having a seizure but there was no doubt he was in fact dead.

The nurse got on her bike and left …me there with two women and him there on the ground.

Time becomes blurred, suddenly there is a police car, and a rescue squad …again claiming turf over the scene. I tell them I am a physician and was about to say “He is dead” but they push me aside and say that I am blocking the path. 

I watch them start useless CPR  and shaken I leave the scene.

But for the roll of the dice again that could have been me. 

Down the path I found the two woman who had been with me and asked if they saw why he went down…they thought he hit a bump and fell…I never saw any bumps when I left.

I stopped to call home stunned  at what had happened but decided afterwards that the best thing to do was to ride on…

I have seen death before as an MD but never like that. I did once as a 12 year old see a similar death but somehow it got deeply buried in my past. It came back vividly as I rode the rest of the day and I was a young teenager in shock all over again.

When I arrived at our host Methodist  church I was greeted by a member who asked if I needed anything.

“ Yes, I’d like to talk to the Minister please”.

He was on vacation. When I explained why the member became teary eyed and gave me a hug then disappeared.

Just by chance there was a Hispanic group celebrating there at the church with crowds of beautiful children playing on the lawn.

I bought two pupusas from a vendor and sat down on the green to surround myself with… life…the laughter and joy of children running around. 

Tears started flowing down my cheeks as I stared at the ground.

I forced myself to stop crying so as not to frighten the children and quietly ate my food.

Suddenly from the parking lot a woman approached and introduced herself. 

“ I am the minister from the Methodist Church down the street. I hear you had a bad day”.

We sat and talked about life and death for a while. As a missionary in Honduras and Sierra Leon she had seen a lot of traumatic death. She ended with a beautiful prayer, calmed me, and left.

As she did she turned to me and said” I was having the worst time writing my sermon for tomorrow but God sent me an Angel in you. Now I know what to say.”

I turned to see my Angel there smiling at me and gave thanks for the protection I receive every day.

I will ride on, watch closely for bumps along the way …and do my best not to block the path again.

5/5/23

Spring is such a wonderful time of the year. Flowers everywhere, animals enjoying the warm sun

and fields in all stages of growth… new corn pushing through the rich soil, green mature wheat ripening, winter wheat harvested. So different here in Virginia just a few miles north of the Great Dismal Swamp.

The ride today is very pleasant, just 70 miles with little wind. The sun warms my back as I head North, ever North. The swamps give way to forests and lakes and I leave the alligators behind.

As I ride I think of the fields in different stages and I ponder my time in life. My two grandchildren are like the fresh sown fields, my son the rich green acres of wheat and me somewhere further along.

I was asked before the ride why I would take on such a trek… my response … “ because I still can “.

Abilities vary with ages and reality takes its toll but so often we passively stand still while opportunities pass us by.

I have been very lucky with the roll of God’s dice. Instead of snake eyes I was handed boxcars on a golden plate.

It is , however, my responsibility and mine alone to maximize the worth of that luck by trying over and over again.

Regardless of the extent of the gifts each of us has received there are aspects of life where “because I can “ pertains…making dresses for children who have none, working to better the lives those left behind, taking care of a handicapped loved one, creating art to enlighten ,teaching to broaden minds… even reaching out and giving a loved one a hug… we do all these things “ because we can “ .

There will come a time in the fields when all the autumn harvests are done and winter sets in. When that time comes for me I won’t be able to say “ because I can” but rather that “ I did”. That will be good enough.

Stop now and look around… at a minimum give a loved one a hug.

Today’s ride is dedicated to Luke who is feeling a little better after his chemotherapy.

5/4/23

It’s a good idea never to anger a Greek God. Yesterday with Hades Cape I snuck off…today I pay for it.

I know I have 93 miles to go. Notus has dropped cold air from the North and Zephyr adds 25 mph headwinds as I start my ride at 6 with dawn in the East.

Misery, pure misery. By my fifth hour I have gone only 40 miles as I look ahead to see the wind vane spinning beyond belief. I am already exhausted with 50 miles to go.

I look to the East and say good bye to the ocean, I will not see it again until Maine.

I turn to the west to head in after encouraging words from a friend and bear the full brunt of Zephyr’s wrath. Onward I pedal for a total of 10 hours to the place of my rest at the edge of the Great Dismal Swamp.

I will sleep well tonight as exhausted as I am. I wrestled all day with Zephyr and I’m not sure who won…

5/3/23

Today I am a little leery of the ride. There have been times in the past where I’ve known that there would be dangerous passages and I recall that today there is one…an extremely long,high bridge between two  Outer Banks islands. I’ve ridden here twice before , and both times been frightened by the powerful swirlings found at the top.

I leave early knowing that there will be strong winds from the west and north directly into my path.

Recent hurricanes have changed the geography of the islands. The northern tip of Ocracoke no longer exists and has been wiped away by Neptune and his violent storms.

I ride  north and suddenly new  bridges appear, ones I have never seen. Storms have cut new inlets where there were none before. 

I top the bridge and look  across the ocean to the shining sun.

Further on I come across a more peculiar bridge one that traverses 2 to 3 miles of sand. I suspect water washes through here and that this land becomes no more.

From the top of his bridge I peer north and see the one I fear 10 miles away.

I know it will be a challenge given Zephyr from the west Neptune from the east as they vie for an orange morsel at the top of the span. I get closer and feel  internal warnings to stay safe , hoping to find Flossie  and Angel  at my side. Massive dunes still protect me from Neptunes fury but I can hear the crashing waves. 

As I approach the bridge Zephyrs bursts fills my mouth with sand. I stopped to wash out the grit and cry out “No fair, foul play from the Western  Wind.”

I see the bridge now wondering if I should  drink my last chocolate milk as a boost for the climb but I visualize Neptune with an orange blob on the end of his spear… dripping my chocolate milk. I put the drink  back and ride on… alone… Angel and Flossie are gone… instead a crowd of cheering bystanders betting on the game…

Across the bridge three or 4 miles in the distance I see a light at the top  of a tower “ What’s that?” but have little time to ponder that thought. 

I start my ride and the winds rip harder and harder around me, pushing me back towards the sand.

150 yards up suddenly all is quiet and calm . I don’t understand. I turn to the ocean and there stands not Neptune but Eurus with a big grin on his face. 

“ I stole Hades Cape  and covered you round .Neither Zephyr nor Neptune can see you now. Don’t be Procrastus but move along little one” and with a gentle push up I go to the top of the bridge. Far to the north I see Zephyr ripping clouds but Neptune is no where to be found. 

I speed down 2 miles to finish and wonder at my luck as I have on this trip again and again. Back on dry land closer to me now is that tower I saw from a distance afar …and behold Flossie and Angel are there  beaming down. 

Zephyr appears and lets out a shout “ You can’t hide from me I’m not done with you yet.” He blasts  me with strong headwinds for the rest of the ride but I care not for I have crossed that massive bridge.