Pedal Power
by Becky Roberts
My son and I
huddle behind the grocery store. It is that final moment
before daybreak when the temperature plummets to a bone-gnawing
cold, signally the dying night's final attempt to prevent
the dawn. The first rays of sunlight gently illuminate
the few remaining wisps of cloud, abandoned by the storms
of the previous night. The parking lot is a seething morass
of activity and lurid colored jerseys and shorts. The
start time approaches, intensifying the activity: last
minute burritos consumed, brakes checked, tires pumped,
and the doors of the Port-o-Cans slam with increasing
urgency. The disparate group of riders coalesces into
a solitary, spectacularly colored organism at the start
line, impatiently awaiting the signal to begin. Announcements
are made, the national anthem is sung, and we are off.
The air is filled with the click of cleats and the squeal
of brakes as cyclists jockey for position. Hearts pound
and adrenalin pumps, but this is not a race - at least
not a race against each other - instead we are working
as a team - racing against time to fund research to find
a cure for MS.
The National
Multiple Sclerosis Society has been organizing fund-raising
bike tours for years. The first tour was held right here
in Texas. Since its inception the program has raised millions
of dollars and has expanded to tours all around the nation.
On this particular
October morning the cycling gods smile as they bless us
with a tailwind to ease our flight through the rolling
hills flowing from San Antonio to Beeville. At frequent
intervals along the route, we pass by people shouting
encouragement and thanks, holding signs "You're riding
for me". The riders wear orange bandanas, embossed with
the name of the person for whom they are riding. My son
now has his bandana pinned to his bedroom wall:
Although
my body will not allow me to ride with you, my spirit
will be there willing you on as you soar through the hills.
Thank-you for doing this for me, Doris.
We do not know
Doris but she is most definitely with us, soothing our
burning muscles, urging us not to quit. We are riding
for you Doris, and the thousands like you, so that one
day, you too can experience the visceral thrill of pushing
your body to its limit and beyond.
On the second
day we gather again at the start line, gingerly lowering
our sore posteriors onto our all too familiar bike seats.
Waiting in the cool gloom we are anxious to get started
and warmed up. As we leave Beeville the hills dwindle
into flat coastal plain and the tail wind is subtly usurped
by a warm, salty headwind. For a while my son and I ride
side by side, we hold hands and I pedal for both of us
determined that he'll experience the satisfaction of completing
the entire tour. Every once in a while we pass another
young boy on a bike - his look of sheer exhaustion matched
only by his determination. He rides alone, but clearly
driven by some secret inner desire.
As the day wears
on I notice the same lady at every rest stop - either
I am more tired than I care to believe, or this is one
extremely enthusiastic ride supporter. Dying of curiosity,
and a little concerned for my mental state, I start a
conversation. She is a single mom, confined to her wheelchair
by the rapid onset MS. Her husband has left her, unable
to cope with an increasingly disabled wife, leaving her
to raise their son alone. She cannot drive, but determined
to minimize the impact of her condition on her son she
bought him a bike so they could still go out with him
pedaling beside her wheelchair. This weekend he was on
the ride of his life - riding his bike to help his mom.
Now I understand the lone boy. My weariness vanishes;
my arms stop aching and my legs spin the pedals with a
vigor I did not know I possessed. That lady and her son
are the reason we are doing this - awash with humility
and gratitude for a functional, healthy body - the last
few miles to the finish line fly by with ease.
Thanks to the
generosity of our friends, my son and I raised $860 for
MS research, and I know of at least one little boy who
can tell you that it was most definitely worth it.
