Mileage: 73 miles
Elevation Change: 1,400 feet
Host: Bedford Presbyterian Church
Dedication: Anna Steig (Aunt Anja’s great grandmother who died of breast cancer) & Nancy Lian (breast cancer survivor)
Today we rode from Waynesboro, PA to Bedord, PA which was estimated to be about 72 miles. I was a little more nervous this morning based on my performance the day before and the fact that everyone from UCF staff to 4K alumni said Day 2 would be the hardest day on the 4K, as we would be ascending and descending the Appalachian Mountains. One would think the ranges out West would pose the biggest challenge but I guess whoever built the roads for the Apps didn’t understand the idea of a switchback. Anyways, our alarms sounded at 5:00am and one by one you could hear the air gushing out of everyone’s sleeping pads… pshhhhh. We all looked rather disheveled. You’d be surprised but it takes us about 2 hours to get ready in the morning. As if waking 30 young adults wasn’t hard enough, we have a list of chores to complete in addition to getting ourselves and bikes ready. This experience is quite comical in how it takes me back to my younger years at summer camp.
I was thrilled to leave the church to find that it was a little rainy and cold. My ride group today was Gino, Amanda, Lindsay, and Sean. The first part of the ride was quite enjoyable. There were a lot of rolling hills and pretty farm landscapes. The mountains were quickly approaching, however, leaving us all with a little anxiety with the unknown. How bad would it actually be?
After our first water stop, we hit our first climb… and climbed and climbed and climbed. You know it’s going to be a long climb when you start out in your granny gear at the bottom of the mountain. Ugh. Every push seemed like it would be my last but somehow I found some last bit of fuel in my heart to keep on trucking. To take our mind off of the pain, Lindsay and I started singing which actually really helped distract us. If you were wondering, we sounded horrible. The tree lines eventually started looking to be in line which was a good sign… almost there. We pulled off the side of the road to wait for a teammate to catch up who had dropped back with another teammate who was struggling when one of our support vans drove by beeping and screaming “your almost there, great view from the top!!!” Just the last bit of motivation we needed to reach the top. I’m not sure anything in my lifetime has ever felt so good as reaching the top. They say in business, high risk yields high reward. Well, I’ve come to learn in cycling that high climbs equal high rewards. The views were stunning but the feeling of accomplishment was even better.
Around mid-afternoon, three to four of the ride groups met up on the side of the road for a breather after reaching the crest of yet another mountain when a man in a beat up old truck pulled over and stopped. Before I knew it, the gentlemen (Mr. Mooney) was thanking us profusely for taking on this mission. With tears in his eyes, he shared with us that he lost his daughter just a short time ago to brawin cancer at the age of 25. He then pulled his check book out of his pocket and wrote a check for $100 to the 4K for Cancer. I was totally overwhelmed by this gentlemen’s generosity.
One of the great things about cycling is the time you get in your “head space” to self reflect. I thought about Mr. Mooney for the rest of the ride and realized two important take aways:
1. Thank people more often when they do good. All too often society, including myself, are quick to tell another person when their doing something wrong, yet when people do something good, we are not as likely to stop and simply say “thank you.” For example, I’m quick to lay on my horn when a driver cuts me off, to let them know they are a terrible driver and I’m not happy. However, I wouldn’t be as quick to stop and chat with a group of cyclists and thank them for what they are doing. This is something I definitely would like to work on in the future.
2. Not being afraid to express true emotions. Mr. Mooney was a stranger to all of us when he pulled over on the side of the road today, yet was willing to emotionally connect with my teammates and I by telling his story and allowing us to support him in his struggle. I have a hard enough time crying in front of people I know and love. The thought of being confident enough to reach to an unfamiliar community for support and show true emotions I find extraordinary and wish I was more willing to do. You can not receive support if people don’t know you need support.
My ride group finished the day strong, climbing 2,500 feet in elevation and conquering two category 2’s and several category 3’s .
We ended up riding into the host around 6:30 (ish) and were welcomed by members of the congregation cheering which was a really nice surprise after a long day. We arrived later than expected, so we put on some dry clothes and joined them for dinner. They had an amazing spread ready for us to enjoy (guac & salsa, enchiladas, tabule, spicy chicken, salad, fruit, and dessert). Later on that evening we had our first “emotional” team meeting. Everyone went around and shared why they decided to do the 4K; what they wanted to get out of the experience; and their connection to cancer. (Insert crying emoji here). Everyone had a reason for riding; whether it be their friend or family… we were all there for one reason… cycle, inspire, unite.
For those of you that know me, you know I’m not very good when it comes to “emotional” things. Some people think I’m actually emotionless which isn’t actually accurate. I have emotions but I like to cover them up with laughter and jokes. Needless to say, having to listen to my teammates stories and watch them cry was excruciating. All I could think of was all the things I didn’t know what to say or do to console them and make their pain go away. I’ve hit roadblocks in past relationships because I’m not able to “go there” with people. I can’t word vomit my problems to others and I avoid (at all costs) asking the tough questions because 1. I hate being sad and 2. I’m too afraid I won’t say/do the right thing. It was in this tear filled room though that I realized what I wanted to get out of this experience. I want to be vulnerable and open. I want to be able to share tears with a friend, family, or even a stranger without feeling totally embarrassed. I want to learn how to ask the right questions or give the right words of support when someone tells you bad news. I want to deal with real issues rather than avoid or cover them up. If there’s a place to work on these weaknesses and insecurities of mine, it’s on the 4K. It’s only day two and the strength and unity of our team is remarkable.
Eat|sleep|bike|repeat 