Northern California cycling enthusiasts will ride for
charity this weekend, with their choice of distances and difficulties among
thematically named routes. While all will enjoy the vistas of historic gold
country and the Sierra Nevada Mountains, some will opt to climb 16,000 feet
over 140 miles.
Two of my friends, Chris and Mark, will ride, and while Mark has opted for the Pony Express (70 miles with nearly 7,000 feet of climbing); Chris is contemplating the Outlaw (110 miles with nearly 12,000 feet of climbing). Should Chris make the decision to attempt the more difficult route, he will face what has come to be known as "the showdown at Iowa Hill Road,” leaving his riding partner several miles before his Pony Express ride ends. Acknowledging that the turn off will be irreversible, Chris sees its potential as a watershed moment in his life. Lest you think that to be an overdramatization, let me add that Chris is Mark's son.
And so we see this ride in its fuller context: the son facing a challenge alongside his father; the shared route; the rhythm of the same blood pumping through two generations of strong legs and gallant hearts; and then the quintessential moment when son looks to father, and with a silent salute leaves for the higher road.
Once reunited they will resume their roles, but the decision made to leave his Dad will take its place in their shared memory alongside all those other leavings... through the door to his kindergarten classroom, across the parking area to his college dorm, down the aisle to his bride's side.
The weight of momentous choice can be daunting, and yet is as well-chronicled as a natural mark of growth as the annual notches in grandma's doorframe marking height and marking time.
Robert Frost wrote in his poem The Road Not Taken:
"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. "
As the years go by for each of us, momentous occasions join the vignettes that fill the photo albums of our lives. As we page through, what we sometimes see is the toll the years have taken, but what we always feel is the love and respect that links us together for every shared experience. As our eyes span the years and our minds span the memories, we are young again and ready to tackle those same challenges with the vigor of youth.
For my friend Chris, whether it's The Outlaw or the Pony Express, he will live in the moment, and savor his decision. There will always be that day, that memory, of father and son and sweat and grind. And no one can ever take that away from him.
Two of my friends, Chris and Mark, will ride, and while Mark has opted for the Pony Express (70 miles with nearly 7,000 feet of climbing); Chris is contemplating the Outlaw (110 miles with nearly 12,000 feet of climbing). Should Chris make the decision to attempt the more difficult route, he will face what has come to be known as "the showdown at Iowa Hill Road,” leaving his riding partner several miles before his Pony Express ride ends. Acknowledging that the turn off will be irreversible, Chris sees its potential as a watershed moment in his life. Lest you think that to be an overdramatization, let me add that Chris is Mark's son.
And so we see this ride in its fuller context: the son facing a challenge alongside his father; the shared route; the rhythm of the same blood pumping through two generations of strong legs and gallant hearts; and then the quintessential moment when son looks to father, and with a silent salute leaves for the higher road.
Once reunited they will resume their roles, but the decision made to leave his Dad will take its place in their shared memory alongside all those other leavings... through the door to his kindergarten classroom, across the parking area to his college dorm, down the aisle to his bride's side.
The weight of momentous choice can be daunting, and yet is as well-chronicled as a natural mark of growth as the annual notches in grandma's doorframe marking height and marking time.
Robert Frost wrote in his poem The Road Not Taken:
"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. "
As the years go by for each of us, momentous occasions join the vignettes that fill the photo albums of our lives. As we page through, what we sometimes see is the toll the years have taken, but what we always feel is the love and respect that links us together for every shared experience. As our eyes span the years and our minds span the memories, we are young again and ready to tackle those same challenges with the vigor of youth.
For my friend Chris, whether it's The Outlaw or the Pony Express, he will live in the moment, and savor his decision. There will always be that day, that memory, of father and son and sweat and grind. And no one can ever take that away from him.
Great post Alexis! A true description of the challenge that lies ahead. Additional backstory include a couple key points:
ReplyDelete1. The Bonk - Last year on a different, but very challenging ride that also went up the Iowa Hill climb, my dad had the firsthand experience of "bonking". People often use this term when the phenomenon doesn't really happen, but it certainly happened to my dad. Bonking can occur when an athlete doesn't eat properly and the caloric deficiency starts turning their body off. They feel drugged - delirious, nauseous, and completely drained. Then on a training ride that my dad and I went on a couple weeks ago, I didn't eat right and started to bonk as well. Note to self -- EAT.
2. Molly doesn't want me to take the turn and do the 110. She thinks I can do it, but she would rather I stay with my dad.
3. My boss (a semi-pro cyclist in the area) looked at the route map for the 110-miler and said, "Oh yeah, you can do this! No problem!"
4. Last year, my dad and I tried to do this same ride, but the greater forces were against us. It was POURING rain, in the 50-somethings, and then I got 2 flat tires and my dad got 2 flat tires. After running out of supplies, we were forced to call and have my wife pick us up. We only made it about 12 miles before this happened.
So this is our redemption ride! Also of note, my mom is riding the 40-miler!
Wish us luck - a full ride report to come...
Chris
Just read this again....such a great Blog.....
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