Favorite Memories Friday: The cycling adventure that started it all

At about this time three years ago I started thinking, really thinking, about riding in the MS 150, a two-day bicycle ride from Houston to Austin which raises money for and awareness of Multiple Sclerosis. No, I wasn’t a cyclist at the time. I think I had been on a bicycle 5 times since the age of 12, and that might even be pushing it.

But I was intrigued. And so I attempted a few spinning classes and signed up for a weekend biking trip in Vermont with my children’s pediatrician and her Nurse Practitioner. I packed my Gu, Spandex, Advil and prayed for the best.

This is what I wrote in my journal about our first ride that weekend. It was 44 hilly miles in very, very cold rain. Not what I signed up for.  And yet definitely the beginning of an incredible adventure.

At the beginning of the ride I prayed and asked that the trip would be a confidence-builder. And that is exactly what it turned out to be.

I started out the ride yesterday trying to learn my gears and hoping that I wouldn’t be the one to hold everyone back. I had to triple check my pack, my shoes, my raincoat… everything and anything because I was so nervous. Then finally I had to just GO. I pedaled and pedaled and pushed myself and stayed with the group as we whizzed by gorgeous farms. Seeing a man driving a tractor so close just made me giggle.

I watched the other riders to learn. And I ingested a lot of Gu in hopes of it helping me climb those hills. I did pretty well and soon we made our way over the border to a quaint French Canadian town for a leisurely lunch. While we ate, though, our muscles cooled and the wind began to pick up, as did the rain. It became a chilly afternoon in the 40s and the drizzle got stronger.

Our guide encouraged us to ride in the van and skip the end of the ride, which held a very steep climb through an orchard. Nearly the whole group opted for the van, but I would have nothing to do with  it. I cleared this time on my calendar, paid for the trip and I was going to cycle. I needed to know if I could do it.

I filled my water bottles, put a plastic shower cap on my helmet to keep out the rain and pedaled off, mostly alone. A few cyclists left before me, but there wouldn’t be any behind me to help if I needed it.

I made my way out of the town and though the country roads, trying to admire the golden trees around me, but shivering too hard at times to really care. The rain grew stronger and colder. My shoes held mini rivers of water. I was covered in mud that had flown up off the road. A few motorists passed by me, one with a bicycle on the top of his car. Part of me was terrified I would be abducted, the other part of me was wondering if I could make it up the climb that I knew was ahead of me.

I prayed and pedaled and pushed as long as I could. My legs got heavier, though, and the climb became steeper and steeper. I didn’t want to stop but I reached a point where my legs just could not push any longer. I had to get off my bike and walk. The icy rain was pelting my body. Streams of water gushed down the hill as I struggled to even walk up it with my bike. It was not the glorious Vermont weekend I thought I had in store.

Eventually, I reached the top of the climb and things leveled. I got back on the bike and pedaled until I finally hit the descent, which was thrilling. I screamed in joy as I whizzed through the orchard and rejoiced when I saw the winery and our tour van.

At the winery, I again was encouraged to join the group in the van. But, again, I just could not. A few of us continued cycling and this time I was sure not to be the last one on the road. I wanted to know that SOMEone was behind me should I have a flat or worse.

I pedaled off, followed the map and prayed for the best. I was on my own… or so it looked.

I was really never alone. He was guiding me and encouraging me every pedal of the way.

Our route wound through communities, on roads and on isolated bike routes.  I looked for tiny route number signs and hoped to be following the right ones.

Near the end, as things became more isolated and dusk taunted, thoughts of what could go wrong slipped into my head several times. I was enjoying the majestic setting… patches of amber, scarlet and maple-colored leaves  among the green trees, fields with cows quietly winking me by, red  and brown worn farmhouses, tall mountains and rolling hills, tree branches touching overhead…  and Satan would slip in there, trying to take away from my worship of God’s gifts. He would nurture my seeds of fear… What If I had a mechanical problem and some evil person would come to me? What would I do? How should I react?

And then I would decide not to let Satan’s reach take hold.

I peddled on, pushing myself and singing praises to the Lord. (Good thing no one was around to hear me!) I sang the Doxology. I sang a few lines from “Show Me Your Glory.” I thanked God for what I was seeing and for some of the things I have experienced and have been given. I prayed for people in my life and I was overwhelmed by the blessings allowed to me. At some point on the trail I wished I had easier access to my camera. But it was cold, wet and slippery so I didn’t want to fish it out of my bag, nor did I want to stop. I decided I should just do my best to take it all in and just enjoy. God would provide the photo opportunities I should have.

When I finally made it back to the bed and breakfast I was exhausted and ready for a hot shower to thaw myself. And yes, I was happy to see a huge pan of brownies and cookies on the porch alongside some hot chocolate. My friends were happy to see me, too. They had been a bit concerned. I made it in just before dark.

Before yesterday, I wondered what would happen if it were to rain on MS150 day. Now I know that I will just get on my bike and plow on.  The weather will not stop me. He will carry my through.

Looking back on that weekend’s memory amazes me. I have since traveled back to Vermont and conquered that hill. But I have conquered so much more. The Lord has carried me through many, many rides since then and in every one I hear Him whispering to me.

Had you asked me before that trip if I would have gone had I known the weather as going to be so terrible I would have said “no way!” But I am so thankful it was so bad. The Lord delivered that confidence-building weekend I prayed for. And he continues to remind me of that over and over again.

PS: In case you are wondering, here is a link to my first MS 150 ride recap. True to His blessing, it was a incredible. I have a few other ride stories, too, but this year’s MS 150 ride was even better. I wonder what’s in store for 2011!

What Favorite Memory are you celebrating today? Link up and let us know in the comments.

And if you have ever thought about riding in an MS 150 or other benefit ride (I’m cycling in a breast cancer fundraising ride later this month), let me know… I’d love to tell you all about it!