41.95 miles...

Saturday, August 27^th was a day for pushing limits. The bike was rolling fine and the legs were firing on all cylinders and I was feeling good in spite of the pain of the physical effort…  

“I think we just passed the start line, Huffyman.”

This was gonna be a long day…

Mile 1: Riding along nicely. Almost missed one of the first turns. My friend Cindy had driven up to Richmond from the big city down south to join me in the Cache Valley Century  Bicycle Tour and we started a little late, after most others had already headed down the road and there was no arrow painted on the road at the 3^rd turn. We had to rely on wit and keen observation to figure out the correct path. The 4 brightly colored guys standing by their bikes pointing down the road and yelling, “This way!  The course is this way!” were not in any way influential in our decision to go “that way.”

Mile 9.97: The first part of the ride had been through the gentle hills along the east side of Cache Valley between Richmond UT and Franklin ID. I was thinking this was pretty easy riding when we saw the first rest site. Since this was a bicycle tour and not a race, there was no rush with the food and the offerings were very good. I filled up my water and stomach and headed back down the road. The weather was perfect and butterflies were dancing across the fields on the side of the road. This was gonna be cake.

Mile 17: My back hurts. My butt hurts. The most I have ever ridden is 21 miles, but that was powered by donuts so this was completely different. I lost one of my riding gloves a while back so was using a pair of mechanic’s gloves. They kept my hands very warm in the warm sun (totally necessary) and provided a direct handlebar to road sensitivity (no cushion). My hands were going numb every few minutes and I was shifting hand positions constantly. But no complaining from me. I am tough. I can do hard things. Oh, and a bead of sweat got in my right eye and it was stinging…

Mile 20.2: Cute little 3 year old waving from her yard. I waved back. “Mommy, that man wides like I do!”

Mile 21: The 2^nd rest stop was 1 mile past the halfway point of the race. I wanted the rest stop at mile 20 but had to find the strength to go another mile past where I was mentally prepared to go! I was so happy to get off the bike and get a refill of Gatorade and stand up straight. I ate enough at the first rest stop that I felt it wise to skip the food at this one. But those Great Harvest Blueberry Dream Yummy bars (my name for it after tasting one) was calling my name… The second one wasn’t calling my name but it still looked inviting. The 3^rd looked at me funny so I ate it out of spite and self-preservation. Stiffness in the knees happened quickly so back on the bike and down the road we went.

Mile 32: Couldn’t go any further. A rest site was supposed to be around here and all I could see in front of us was that grove of palm trees and the beautiful lake… I shook my head and the view became grain silos and lots of asphalt in front of me. I had to stop to straighten my back and get a drink of Gatorade. This was a long ride. I only just realized it.

Mile 32.4: The last rest area before the finish. Glorious! The plentiful shade and grass were so inviting and I wanted to lie down and enjoy, but I worried that if I did, I would not be able to get back up again. So I filled my water bottle and had a bunch of orange slices. It was apparent that the last rest stop volunteers had radioed ahead and these guys had hidden the Blueberry Dream Yummy bars. Dang. Thinking about the lunch waiting at the end, I made my peace with the rest stop volunteers and Cindy and I headed out into the last, sunny, hot, overwhelming, sadistic and long final stretch.

Mile 37: About 5 miles out and I had to stop again. I sounded like Captain Kirk – “Must…stop…and rest. Must prepare…for…victorious…finish.” Cindy laughed, as did the lady riding the old bike with the fenders as she passed by, as well as the 2 older women who went by on their fancy shmancy roadie bikes, yapping (in between laughing at me) about what Susan the sister in law said after her boss said this and so on… The women were mocking me with their indifference to my pain.

Mile 39: I passed the 2 yapping ladies. I tried to laugh at them in spiteful victory but I could only get out a parched bark. They never slowed their conversation as if to show how little I mattered in their lives.

Mile 40.5: Passed fender lady. Barely.

Mile 41.3: Crossed the tracks and hit the hill up to the highway in Richmond. Up off my seat and hard on the pedals, I rode that hill with all the energy I had left. Less than a half mile left and I felt like I might make it before I completely fell apart. The hill was a killer and at the top I had to sit back down and shift into low gear for the next 200 yards to the highway stop light. It was the best I could muster. The light turned red just as I got to it. My knees stiffened as I waited. Cindy and another rider got to the light smiling. I glared at them hoping they would stop. Just as I reached the official stiffening point of my knees, thighs and back, the light turned green. Push, push, push… My mind willed my legs to go and slowly but steadily, progress was made across the street and toward the finish.

Mile 41.95: The finish line. A colorful line across the road and the single word, “Finish” painted before it. Such a quiet ending to the intensely personal and physical drama that had unfolded throughout the morning. But the pain became bearable as I kept repeating in my mind, “I did it. I did it…” I started out thinking this ride would be easy. Then I worried that I might not make it. And in the end, I pushed through and finished in quiet flair. It was indeed a great day.

Boy, did the lunch they had waiting for us taste good!

The Ball

It was a hot day in Denver Colorado and storm clouds threatened from the outskirts of the sky. This was the day I was to reach back into childhood days and open up a dream and catch a wish in left field that had taken 35 years to reach my glove.

Jeffrey, Lilli and I were in the Mile High City exploring away the dregs of summer and this night we were walking up the steps of Coors Field, where the Colorado Rockies play. It was our first time at a Major League baseball game and something I had wanted to do since the time long ago when the Oakland A’s reigned the league and I ingested every scrap of info on the team with an 11 year old’s enthusiasm. This day, as I walked out onto the pavilion overlooking our seats in left field and the meticulously groomed field, I was trying to soak in every sight and smell and touch. We made our way to our seats in section 153, seats 12, 13 and 14, 4 rows back from the outfield grass. Wow! We were there early for batting practice. The Rockies were on the field and batting and it was fun to hear the crack of the bat and watch the balls fly to the players laughing and chatting in the field and occasionally into the stands, where waiting fans converged in generally futile attempts to claim the prize. When a ball would come toward left field, we would all rise as one unit, willing the ball our way, gloves at the ready. When a lucky bleacher fielder would catch the ball, there were cheers from most, but if the ball were dropped, there were boos and embarrassment. Upon seeing this, Jeffrey told me if the ball came to him, he wanted me to catch it. I have to admit that the crowd kinda added a bit of pressure I hadn’t expected. A 7 year old fan stationed his self in front of us and kept up a constant dialogue with a couple of friends and no one in particular about the quality of a hit or the location of the next ball. Others were around us as well, but most were like me, quietly watching and waiting in anxious anticipation.

The actual ball - see the bat mark in the lower right.

The Rockies finished practicing and the Dodgers came onto the field. Jeffrey pointed out a few players he knew. We were having a good time watching the players and the crowd and then there was a crack of the bat that sent a ball our way. I was up in an instant and watching the balls trajectory… The sounds around me confirmed this was coming our way. As if in a baseball opera, the ball gracefully flew high into the air and then descended (floated) toward section 153, row 4, seat 14. I sensed others around me, pushing in, but it was just a background sense since all my senses were focused on a white dot in the air. I held my glove high in the air like I had done thousands of times in my life and in a glorious moment I felt the joy of a baseball hitting my glove and then being safely enveloped within the confines of that familiar leather. I had caught the ball! Such a simple thing, but my heart swelled with happiness. I was 48 years old but I was 11 years old also. And every age in between. There were cheers and a weight that I didn’t realize was there was lifted as I exulted in the fact that I had not dropped the ball when my chance came. My heart pounded with excitement as I shared the ball with my kids and the 7 year old in front of us.

Sure it was just a ball at batting practice, but at that moment, I was as happy as I’d ever been. I had not dropped the ball! I had waited 35 years for this opportunity and neither the moment nor the aging reflexes disappointed. I am so excited to be able to check this item the old bucket list! OK, this wasn’t actually on the list before, but it should have been. And now it is checked off!!  

Mary's Joy

The alarm clock went off at a little before 5:30 am and though I was excited for the day, I let the snooze button cushion the sharpness of the waking. I finally rolled out of bed, and got on the road to meet the Common Ground folks for a 6:30 departure to the Snake River in Wyoming for some white-water rafting. While I was still wiping the sleep from my eyes as I rolled through Smithfield, an amazing site met me – runners wearing reflectors and headlamps who obviously had been up a lot earlier than I had. Turns out they were going to pretty much the same place we were.


The Common Ground Adventures office was abuzz with activity as participants were filling out forms and loading gear and volunteers like me were doing whatever we were asked to do. There was a lot of excitement in this diverse group of 21 people heading out to play on the water. The drive of around 3 hours was kept active with conversation between Bryce (our driver and activity leader) and several others in the van. It was entertaining enough that I never opened the book I brought with me. When the river came into view in Alpine, WY, I was pretty excited. We reached our destination, rigged rafts, had lunch and deposited the second van at the shuttle point. We were ready to go!


There were people of all ages and abilities so most processes took a good amount of effort and time to get through. I did a lot of laughing as normal things erupted into humourous moments again and again.

I have to say that a young man named Keenan who was manager for 3 teen boys on the trip had his hands full with his active and playfully delinguent charges! We all got our life vests on and raft assignments and I pushed us off from the shore into the #2 position of the 4 rafts and we were floating the Snake!! Heather was our captain and I was sitting in the front of the raft by Mary, a young woman whose excitement could not be contained and whose eruptions of joy and squeals of delight kept us all entertained the whole trip. Heather was an experienced river guide and it felt nice to just relax and enjoy the ride. Even the smallest rapids were fun for Mary and her laghter was constantly contagious. I had been nervous about helping with participants with disabilities – I just didn’t know what to expect. Turns out that Mary led the way in the fun dept. and I just had to follow her lead! When the rapids had the raft surging up and down through the waves, there was no way to wipe the smiles off our faces.


At one point we lost view of the lead raft and ended up getting a little close to a rock wall in strong rapids on the right side of the river. As Heather tried to get us closer to the middle, there was a thud of some kind followed by an outburst (later repeated with delight by her crew!) and I looked back at a guide missing one paddle and an absolutely priceless expression on her face! Quickly, Heather regained composure and had another volunteer, Macie, free up the extra oar and they were able to quickly get it in place. While this was going on, we were gently bouncing off the right walls all the while in pretty rough water. Then the river pushed us across, right toward a wall on the left side that threatened to flip us over. Heather rowed with heart to get us heading downstream but the current was so strong and into the wall we were going. With mighty pulls of the oars, Heather slowed us so we just kissed the wall and then continued around it. Since Mary was in the front of the raft with me, she thought it was way cool that we got to bounce off the wall! Our safety kayaker who watched this whole event told us that he had recently seem 3 rafts get flipped by that same wall. We were stoked that we survived! And the kayak was also able to retrieve the lost oar so after a little yoga and breathing exercises, we were fully loaded and ready to rock the river again…


Most of the big rapids had names, but we didn’t know which were which because we were having too much fun. At one point, another raft that was carrying Mary’s mom and siblings got close and Mary and others in our raft carried out a water battle with the other raft. Some accused me of being involved but I was just bailing water out of the raft and didn’t realize the other raft was directly in the path of the water I was throwing! Mary seemed very excited at splashing water at her mom. Kept yelling (in amongst the laughter) something about getting her back for feeding her too many vegetables…


As we approached one of the last rapids, I wondered why there were lots of people lined up on the right side of the river. As the full rapids came into sight, it was clear this was the Lunch Counter rapids and these people were here to see us flip! Heather lined us up and we went into these waves that seemed taller and deeper than our raft with a vengeance and lots of excitement. The first wave covered us with spraying water and then we dove down into the next. Our guide kept us straight and we went through these crazy waves like pros, except we were laughing like amateurs! Mary held on for dear life and was smiling through the whole thing! As we settled into calm waters, we felt bonded and like a team that won the big game. In spite of penalties (losing an oar – 15 yard penalty, to be assessed on the opposite wall) we stuck it out and overcame the odds and we were working together and laughing together and floating together. Somewhere around the time I was revelling in our successes, we came around a corner and saw a ramp on the right side and a bunch of rafts lined up. There were no rafts down the river and we saw other rafts from our group on the shore as well. The realization hit that this was the pull-out and we were strongly in the current going the wrong way, away from our friends! Heather dug in to pull us out but the current was too strong. I jumped to the middle of the raft (after receiving captain’s order!), facing Heather and while she pulled with all her might, I also grabbed the oars and pushed with all my might. With the strength of us both pulling and pushing in rhythm and Heather pointing us in the right direction, we made slow and steady progress and finally were able to get into the large eddy on the right side of the river. From there, Heather took full control and we were able to get ourselves back where we needed to be. I don’t think anyone even noticed our little emergency, except maybe a couple of the teen boys who were thinking there was gonna be more food for them if we just kept going…


There were 21 smiling faces at the end of the run. You could see it was a great float in the eyes and the voices of all the participants and volunteers. After unrigging and packing and loading up, we took care of the shuttle and then headed home. Funny how quiet the ride home was compared to the trip up! After Bryce put earphones in to listen to a book, I pulled my book out and did some reading I hadn’t had time for in a while.


After we passed through Soda Springs, we started seeing the runners on the road that we had seen in Smithfield early in the morning! It was then we realized this was likely a relay race between Logan and Jackson (I later verified this online). We honked and waved at several of the leading participants as we thought it was pretty amazing what they were doing and wanted them to know it. After all, the organization I was with was all about getting everyone outside, doing the best they could with every ounce of potential they had, and that’s what these runners were doing as well. Along with these racers on the road, Mary, Heather, Bryce and 17 other participants and volunteers were reaching their potential on this day. It was a good day for quiet heroes. And lucky for me, they let me ride their coattails and enjoy the parade!