Donald Miller and the Ride:Well Team Bike America

Arriving in Texas was probably the most celebratory moment of the tour, so far. Arizona had us clinging to cactus for shade and water, and though the state was certainly beautiful, the days were long and hot. New Mexico showed us beauty, but our bodies were still adjusting. But it was Texas, the smell of crude oil and the sudden flatness of landscape that charged our spirits. A breakaway happened before the border that had the tandem (Jesse and Brianne) Greg, Joane, Jessica Abt and myself racing toward the border. A person at a gas station told us the border was only five miles away, so about four away I broke out and challenged Greg Bargo toward what I thought was the state line (A rest-area sign in the distance).

You should know that Bargo has climbed Mt. Mckinley then rode his bike from Alaska to Mexico so it was a stupid thing to challenge him but I figured I could kick him over when nobody was looking. But people kept looking. Anyway, he pulled ahead but then both of us realized it was not the border, so we slowed and the rest of the front pack caught us. Then we raced for eleven more grueling miles, Jessica, Joanne and Bargo pulling out front a few times, and Jesse and Brianne kindly getting me back into the race by allowing me to draft them back up to the front pack. But in the end, Bargo and Jessica took off and there was no catching them. And Bargo finally broke away and crossed the border first. It was good. He is a Texan. It needed to be a Texan.

We turned up the stereo at the border and took turns taking pictures in front of the sign. We sang country songs and called our parents and friends. We were in Texas. In this state we will cross our halfway point. We will have our first community ride. We will eat more barbecue than a person is supposed to. We will be treated with Southern hospitality everywhere we go. And we will climb no mountains. Thank God.

We are having a great time out here. Our bodies are feeling better. We are gelling as a team. Today we discovered a little town called Albany that is having a festival, so we are shuttling back to attend a musical and be entertained with the over 1500 other people who will show up at Fandangle. We loved the town as we passed through, and all of us are excited about going back.

Good night America. We are in your belly now. We are crawling cross your hills and we are seeing every bug, every dried up river bed, every closed shop, every crude pump and windmill, every cow bathing in every pond. Every staring cow, wondering what kind of cows we are, and how we could run so fast, and what we are running from.

It was supposed to be the hardest week of the tour, and it lived up to that expectation. At least so far. Our goal was to get through the week, allowing our bodies to adjust to the schedule and the miles, without falling apart. And so after a day off in Phoenix, we rode into the mountains out of Scottsdale crossing two mountain passes before arriving at Payson. Monday was similar to day one of the tour, except a little further. The comical scene on day one was when we stopped to eat lunch at a gravel pit and all of us fell asleep under the only tree for miles, laying down on jagged rocks. Monday was a day of flats for me, also. I’ve become very good at fixing flats.

Tuesday had us climbing even further, from around 4,000 feet to nearly 8,000 feet. Tuesday was a tough day for everybody. We started out with some small rolling hills, then hit a six-mile 6% grade before lunch. Jesse made the rest of the ride optional, and several people opted out. Opting out isn’t a bad thing because we have to know our bodies and what they are capable of and whether or not we are risking long-term injuries. But I opted in and was rewarded with many miles of downhill into a town called Show Low.

In Show Low, one of our team members, Matthew Williams got a call from home and found out his father had been diagnosed with Lukemia. Matthew decided to book a ticket back to Lousiana and left our group the next day. And we miss him. Please keep Matthew and his father, Scott, in your prayers. We are hoping Matthew will be back in the next couple weeks.

On Wednesday we rode from Show Low to Quemado New Mexico. I think Wednesday was the first day when my spirit was pretty low. I was just tired of being on the bike. My wrists were killing me and I’d developed Tennis Elbow. It isn’t the big pains, the muscles or energy level, it’s the little irritating pains that break you down. Eight and nine hours on a bike wear on you after several days. But I finished the day, and was thankful for a massive downhill into Quemado. In Quemado, we were greeted by a pastor named Ira, and he and some ladies in his congregation made us an amazing dinner. We felt like it was thanksgiving. I am salivating even thinking about it.

As we travel, we meet so many people and all the walls are immediately down. We lay around in the shade and take naps on porches of grocery stores and do thing we would never have done back home. Because of this, we meet remarkable and friendly people. Especially in smaller towns, where we immediately become the biggest thing that has happened in weeks. One of the more remarkable people we’ve met was Ira, the pastor from Quemado. He is a people person. He loves to serve and to provide for those in need. He pastors a small church and is also the fireman. He told me a story about how when Katrina hit the government sent hundreds of refugee’s to his small town. His church put out cots, 400 of them in the school gym. Then Ira asked his congregation to stand along a wall in the gym, and loudly announced to the refugees that if anybody wanted to feel the tangible love of God they could come up and hug a member of his congregation. Ira said the response was nothing short of a stampede, as all 400 people stood in line just to get a hug. God I almost started crying when he told me that story. I think part of the reason I was a little sentimental is because we were all so hungry and so tired, and he and his people had decided to feed us. He was showing us God’s love the whole time we were there. He even escorted us out of town the next morning with his fire-truck. Thanks Ira. We miss you already.

On Wednesday we got a much-needed break. It was a long day, over 100 miles, but much of it was downhill. It still took about eight hours, but we didn’t have to climb very much. And also, Jesse decided we’d stop at a town called Pie Town and eat at their only café, which serves pies. So at nine in the morning we invaded Pie Town, roughly tripling their population. And eating all the rest of their pies.

While in the Pie Town café we met a man named Paul Kates. Paul is hiking the continental divide. He’s 62 and a widower and since his wife died a few years ago he has hiked more than 7,000 miles. He talked about her so fondly, and he told us hiking was something they did together. You could tell that he walked all those miles as a way of being with her. And he even told me so. He said hiking was when he felt her presence the most, and found himself warmed by her memory.

On Wednesday night we slept in Socorro, New Mexico. We were hosted by a wonderful pastor named Raquelle. She’s a Navajo Native American who loves the lord and associates the Fathers goodness with His creation. When she prays, she lifts her hands and calls out to “Our Creator.” We had a wonderful, quiet conversation with her about Native-American spirituality and their fondness for nature. She gave us a great deal to think about as we continued pedaling through the beauty of New Mexico.

Thursday had us battling a headwind for 85 miles. It was, for me, the roughest day physically. Mentally it was challenging as well as it felt like the obstacles would never let up. But the day had a great ending. Perhaps the best ending to a day so far. I am going to post a blog about that specific day later in the week, so keep looking for that.

Then on Friday we pedaled into the mountains, and on Saturday we made it to Roswell, visiting the Alien Museum and then moving out of town into the desert about fifteen miles to cut out fifteen miles on Monday. So that was our week in words. Here is the week in pictures: