September 6, Reflections

September 6, Reflections A month-long, cross-country, 3,570 mile bike ride reminds us of many life lessons: Having something to positively anticipate, even if accompanied by anxiety, creates new energy. Minimizing the regrets in life is important. Realizing that trying something, as unrealistic as it may seem, and not achieving the goal, carries less regret than not trying an “unrealistic” idea. We can carefully plan in pursuit of a goal, relationship, etc., but we are unable to anticipate all that lies ahead. Surprises are likely. We can learn much about ourselves through taking a risk, pushing our limits, venturing into the territory of the unknown, despite the accompanying anxiety or fear. Perhaps most of the “impossible” or “improbable” can be broken down into manageable pieces. “One day, or mountain, or hour at a time.” We can usually push ourselves beyond what we believe our limits to be. Sometimes we are fortunate. Sometimes not. Pain is sometimes a reality. How we evaluate it, determine risks and integrate it into our lives becomes essential. Much of how we entertain or distract ourselves in life interferes with the pursuit of our goals and meaningful cultivation of our relationships. (I was struck that in knowing nothing of what was transpiring in the world, I missed very little.) Being actively engaged with a task or goal is much more enriching and peaceful than being passively entertained. Joining with others, and even depending on stronger others at times, can make life easier, and even possible. In climbing mountains, the journey is often pretty lonely and one is on one’s own much of the time. Life is like that. Usually, something exists to focus on with worry. A naïve determination to start the day and figure it out along the way can usually carry us through. (I never really had a plan B.) Being held in the prayers of others is quietly comforting and reassuring. Prayer reminds us that we are a part of something much bigger. (My 98 year old mother reminded me each time we talked, that she was holding all of us in prayer.) Our accomplishments are rarely achieved in isolation. Gratitude for the support and encouragement of a team of family, friends and colleagues is honest, connects us with the larger world, and humbles us. Routinely reminding ourselves that all of life is a gift is important. Sometimes we do not fully understand why we want to do something. Sometimes we just “know.” Much of life is a mystery. Often, explaining what we have experienced in a few words is impossible. Truly, “you had to be there.” It was one phenomenal, unforgettable, thrilling, satisfyingly painful month. Life has times that are ineffable, beyond words and explanation. The ride was one of those times. --Ellery Duke, August, 2013

September 5, Postlude

September 5, Postlude I want to share some closing thoughts on the bike ride across the country. Since returning home, the pain in my hip has captured most of my attention and interfered with my capacity to reflect until now. The orthopedist believes I activated some arthritis in the hip, and is working toward getting that calmed down. An MRI was negative for any other problems in the hip area. In looking back over the month of the ride, I find it to be a non-stop blur that filled my life with room for nothing else. One rider described it as ride, refuel, recover, sleep, repeat, day after day. I had little idea of what was going on in the world—never watched TV or read a newspaper. I had thought prior to the ride that I would have time to socialize and do some interesting tourist things. I soon realized that my purpose was to ride across the country, and that all my time and energy would be focused on that goal. Also, in looking back, I have some difficulty understanding how I was able to accomplish this goal. I had occasionally ridden back-to-back one hundred mile days, and once three back to back centuries. I knew that the ride would be a challenge, but reality was a bigger challenge than I had imagined. I realized early on that looking beyond the next day was not helpful, and created a sense of worry. I knew that I could ride 120 or so miles, and if that was my focus, I felt confident that I could do that the next day. I knew that I routinely rode 30 miles in 1.5-2.0 hours, the distance between the breaks for refueling each day. If I could focus on those smaller bites, and string those segments and the days together, I could keep my confidence up by believing that each day was doable. Also, with the steep climbs, I knew that once I got to the top, the reward was a thrilling descent of 10 or so miles at 30-40 mph. Pushing beyond what I would have assumed to be my limits became routine. My determination wavered at times, particularly with the hip pain, but focusing on the goal sustained me when physical pain and headwind discouragement, had me questioning whether I could or even wanted to continue to pursue the fantasized goal. At times, I wondered why I ever wanted to do this. I even tried to come up with someone to blame. Other parts of the mental battle: If I were to quit, how would I get home? Who would I disappoint? I realized that I would disappoint myself. Probably everyone else would understand quitting as making sense. By about the third day, my daughter, Amy, told her mother, “The problem with Dad is that he won’t know when he needs to take a break.” As the hip pain persisted, I wondered how bad it would need to get before I could not take it anymore. But then, my thoughts shifted: If I could get some rest and get up the next morning, and start out, I could do that first 30 miles…. An important mental aspect of the ride was the beautiful and varied scenery that kept the days interesting. Bodies of water, forests, snow-capped mountains were experienced as glimpses while riding hard much of the time. On the other hand, staying alert to the fact that traffic was often a few feet away, demanded its own focus, as well as capacity for denial. I would never want to ride on the shoulder of I-80 toward Council Bluffs or Iowa City. On any bike ride, it is impossible to anticipate everything that might become a challenge. The need to find a new bike computer at Walmart in Ludington, MI, at 9:00 p.m. was essential in order to follow the cue sheet for the next day. Having a bike shop employee roommate was fortunate. The day with two flats and decision to replace my tire was a gamble that worked out, while also adding a time pressure element to that already stressful day. Bottom line is that I am as delighted that I wanted to take on the challenge of the ride, as I am that I achieved the goal of riding cross-country. The sense of satisfaction is indescribable. Many people were involved with this endeavor-- Most longer distance bikers benefit from having someone who functions in an enabling, supportive role. Marsha has provided that support for 30 years. She discovered the 1973 ride across Iowa that became Ragbrai, and she supported Amy Ellen and me when we rode number 10 in 1982. She has rescued me from flat tires and mechanical breakdowns. I have always been biking on Saturday mornings rather than accompany her to the farmers’ market. Marsha has said, “If you are going to ever do this, now is the time.” Then, she spent the month alternating between encouraging and worrying. Seeing her in Albert Lea was a wonderful connection to reality. Amy Ellen and Ben have constantly led cheers for me over the years, and they offered their constant presence and encouragement throughout this ride. Ben’s music selections were uncannily right on. Two year old Gabriel’s phone calls, encouraging me to take more EPO enhanced my strength. My mother’s prayers were a reminder of her constant presence. My brother’s encouragement and the serendipitous connection with his daughter, Holly, and her family in Rapid City, were wonderful. The support of the Pastoral Counseling Center’s board and staff made this 5-week endeavor possible. The board granted me the time away. With our fine staff, the Center functioned flawlessly, and both board and staff supported the fund-raising element of the ride. All the donors and blog-watchers helped the Center raise more than $30,000 for our Counseling Assistance Fund. My weekend riding group of Jim, Mike, Andy, Mark, Patrick, Rob, and others have kept me in shape while I have chased them over the years and miles. The folks at Bike World where I purchased my Trek Madone a few years ago were encouraging and told me I would have a great time. Ernie Fisher had the bike tuned and equipped to handle the mountains. I had no mechanical problems. All the folks who expressed interest and encouragement, all who worried some and were with me in spirit—I felt your presence.

August 7, Stage 32

August 7, Ashland, VA to Williamsburg, VA, 80 miles, 1250 climbing feet. Great postlude ride to Yorktown. With dinner tonight and packing of bike, I will write some more tomorrow. I am delighted to have accomplished this, and overwhelmed with the support of all of you. You will never know how much your prayers, messages and thoughts have meant. I need a little rest for a few days. Life is good! Ellery

August 6, Stage 31

August 6, Harrisonburg, VA to Ashland VA, 123 miles, 4300 climbing ft. Ride began with some flat and then a four-mile climb over the Blue Ridge Parkway at 22 miles. Brought back memories of the ride that Jason and Amy Ellen suggested that I take a week prior to their wedding 5 years ago. They lived in DC and arranged for me to ride to their wedding down Skyline Drive and the Blue Ridge Parkway in a week. I think that it was around 600 miles--wonderful ride, with a few 100 mile days and a few 10,000 climbing feet days. Besides Amy Ellen's brother Ben, no one else thought that it was a good idea right before the wedding--"What if you have an accident, and ruin the wedding?" I was thinking of that on every single curving 35-40 mph descent the whole way. Unmatched enjoyable experience. PACTour has been gruelling, partly because of so long. Today began last night when I decided that the pain in my hip was severe enough that I would try the hospital emergency room again. Treated well, given a couple medications, that have not helped so far. On the bike I am fine, but walking is excruciating. Also, ended up with about 5 hours of sleep. The ride went well, but I am pretty well spent. Followed Marcy 30 miles with no stops into lunch. Then, rode pretty well on ups and downs to the end, until, with about 3 miles to get into Ashland, going up a hill, I was having trouble focusing and even holding onto the bars. Think I was overheated also. A couple of other riders stopped with me just as I was braking rather than falling over. Cooled down a little and made it in. Feel fine now, except for having ridden 3500 miles in the past month. Really weary, but the end is in sight. Tomorrow is flat and about 80 miles to Williamsburg, then a few pictures, ride back to the hotel, pack up the bikes and prepare to leave Thursday morning. Marsha will meet me in St. Louis, drive us to my 50th high school reunion--I will have some things to report on my recent life--then back to DM on Sunday, where I will promptly fall asleep each afternoon. The ride today was again spectacular, through winding county road, wooded areas, through Virginia agriculture areas--maybe peanuts--chased by dogs--I almost hit one--went by James Madison's home, Montpelier--did not stop for a tour, but it would be nice. Hundreds of places would be nice to visit with time. Spent some time on Monrovia Road. It along with Otterbien United Methodist Church in Harrisonburg yesterday, were some of the continuing United Methodist marks on life out here. Did see two Disciples of Christ churches and a Unitarian/Universalist Church, so Methodists do not corner the market. With the hurried schedule and all the visual images floating by all the time, and the effort of biking hour after hour safely, etc., etc., still have no time to reflect on the experience. That will come in time. Still have to get to Williamsburg tomorrow, which has been the driving goal.

August 5, Stage 30

August 5, Elkins, WV to Harrisonburg, VA, 107 miles, 10,500 climbing feet, by far, the most for any day of the tour. Perfect riding weather, total fog at the start, then lifting, revealing stunning terrain. On Route 33 most of the day. The main contributor to the climbing feet total was seven 2 mile to 4 mile climbs, the toughest as the last two. Then, 25 miles into Harrisonburg, with ups and downs along the way. The climbs were tough, at about 5-9 percent gradient. I told Marsha last night that the Grand hill from 63rd to 56th is about 8-9 percent, but it is over in less than a half mile. I think that I am repeating myself. The winding descents were wonderful. I was the last one in again, due to my slow climbing. Was a tough, but satisfying day, until I got off the bike and the gradual return of the hip pain was back in full force. The shot in Missoula has been wearing off for a few days. Tomorrow has an early climb up to the Blue Ridge Parkway, then flattish ups and downs into Ashland, VA. Got to get to bed.

August 4, Stage 29

August 29, Parkersburg, WV to Elkins, WV, 123 miles, 7200 climbing feet. This was a day that I dreaded given the length and the amount of climbing, but unanticipated things can make dread worse. Morning started just great, riding on the shoulder of US 50, which by the way runs cross country about 11 miles from my hometown in southern Illinois (100 miles east of St. Louis). A few years ago, NPR did a series on US 50--I forget who narrated the series--followed it all across the country. Anyhow, the mist and clouds hung over the forested mountains--looked like the home page for Google Chrome. This was the Robert C. Byrd Appalachian Highway. All was well until I had a flat rear tire about two miles short of the first stop at 28 miles. Fixed the flat, which I hate to do--could not find anything in the tire. A half mile later, the new tube was flat. I assumed something was wrong with the tire. Decided to ride it flat to the re-fueling stop, which is risky. The guy handling the stop had a tire that would fit and a couple of spare tubes. I changed the tire and the tube, but that takes time. By this time, I was quite a ways behind everyone else and PACTour does not like for folks to not keep up. The guy handling the stop offered to sag me ahead to the next stop--20 miles, but I declined. Got to the next stop and was told that I was on the bubble as to whether I would be mandatorily sagged forward to lunch--30 miles ahead. I refueled, grabbed some cookies and Pringles, and headed out. One couple on a tandem was right behind me and they were sagged. I was feeling performance pressure, so was not able to enjoy the old cars, Lazy Boys on the front porch, and general poverty reflected on the beautiful narrow road that would up and down and in and out for 20 miles or so. The road had been carved out of the side of the mountain many years ago, reflecting the terrain, rather than modifying it. Looked like sandstone, with a pretty good drop-off five feet away from the edge of the road. Lots of potholes and attempts to patch worn areas. Took at picture of the Churchville Methodist Church--they have not added United to the sign. Beautiful scenery--I know, I keep saying the same thing. John Denver's song describes it head on. Once one is off of the interstate system, the WV world is special. I pulled into lunch on the grounds of the Weston Lunatic Asylum, the largest sandstone building in the world, except for the Kremlin. It must be 500 feet long and five stories tall. Lobotomies, and who knows what other "advanced" treatment of patients who were depressed, anxious, probably with undiscovered/unacknowledged abuse, etc. They give tours and have a museum of the treatment used. It has been closed for years. I was the last one in at lunch. One thing that I enjoy every other day when it is available is Tapioca. I found then that Susan had set up the next refueling stop at 99 miles to wait for me if I wanted to ride all the way. I left lunch at 2:00 and headed into some pretty good, slow hills. Made it to the stop, where the guy in charge of it graciously had waited for me and had thought of driving the route to see if I was okay. I was pretty well wiped out at this point, but realized that I was on my own and it did not matter how long it took. A couple of 2-3 mile steep inclines had me in my lowest gear, but then I began to notice the shadows from the trees across the road. I slowed down and began to enjoy the trip, keeping an eye on the cars and trucks that occasionally flew by. Finally got into Elkins about 6:00--stopped at Walgreens for some additional saddle sore medication, and McDonald's for supper. My roommate, Dave, had my bag in the room, as usual, and had tossed some of my shorts from yesterday into the laundry. Tomorrow, on to Harrisonburg, VA. 10K or so feet of climbing, squeezed into 106 miles. About bed time for my legs. Up at 5:45, breakfast at 6:30 and head out at 7:00.

August 3, Stage 28

August 3, Circleville, OH to Parkersburg, WV, 101 miles, approx 3000 climbing ft. Beautiful day of riding, even with the rain for the first couple of hours. We were cleary moving toward the beginning of the mountains. Foggy cloudy mists hung over wooded peaks. After the rain, we had winding roads that draped overall the undulating terrain. We took a bike trail that skirted the campus of Ohio University, then on the shoulder of US 50. After lunch we had more beautifUl wooded winding roads for 10 miles, then more of the shoulder of US 50, which took us most of the way to the Ohio River and Parkersburg. 101 mile day helped, giving a chance for some added rest in anticipation of the next two mountainous days.