In 2001, I met a fellow who had ridden across the US on his bicycle. He was a normal enough guy, a little pudgy even, and his work and passion were film--editing, directing, screenwriting. I never knew his full name, but he sat across from me in Boulder, Colorado at a cafe while we ate breakfast, and told me tales of his journey. The seeds of desire to follow in his footsteps had been planted.
It had been 10 years since I'd ridden a bike. In 1991, I was riding as I frequently did down to the library on my bicycle when I crashed and shattered some bones, requiring surgery and a metal plate which is still grafted to my lower arm today. I was a bit spooked, and hadn't even had a bike since then. However, immediately following that morning in the cafe, I went out and borrowed a friend's bike (and helmet) and rode all over Boulder. I was in love, again.
Fast forward back to Austin, a couple of years ago. I finally got a decent bike for christmas one year, and had been putting the miles on it with some friends. I started riding longer and longer distances, culminating in a few 70 mile rides and I'd about hit the peak of what I wanted to do on the bike I had, which was a hybrid mountain/cruiser--heavy, built like a tank, and with medium-sized tires on a mountain-bike-esque frame with front shocks. Which, it suddenly occurred to me, would be perfect for riding around town--no pothole too unexpected to jar me off, no rainstorm too oil-slick-inducing, and no car too unpredictable to be dodged.
So I started riding to work every day. Round trip, 7 miles, and it took me just the same amount of time as driving and parking and walking to the office--only I got to park *in* my office. This led to few times when I wouldn't drive for a week. Then a month. Finally, with some encouragement from a few friends without cars, I decided I didn't need my car anymore at the end of this summer. And I've been happy with that decision for the past 3 months.
I'd been talking with friends about a long bike ride--how did one ride across the country? I discovered that to my dismay it was either a logistical nightmare (How much stuff can I strap on my bike? What happens when I break down in the middle of nowhere? How much food do I need to carry?) or a tremendous expense (I'll need 3 months off work, and I'll need to pay someone to drive around following me for 3 months carrying my gear...and a spare bike). And then I found out about the Texas 4000.
I read a little more about it online, and it sounded great--a supported, cross-country ride at no cost, with a bunch of other young people, at the best time of year. But as I read more, I drew up short. The previous year's riders weren't just talking about the ride in their journals--they were talking about bigger things. Life-changing things. And not things like "I rode 120 miles today and I'm proud of myself!"--things like "I cry almost every day when I think about what we're working against, and who we're working for" and "I have never felt so appreciated and valuable in my life." This thing was obviously not what I was expecting...
I submitted my application, still thinking "bike ride, bike ride, bike ride!" and "oh, there will be some fundraising and stuff too." But when I went to the information session, it was obvious that everyone who had done the ride was a true believer--they had battled cancer personally, and the world was a better place. That's what made me cry, what made me change from thinking "this would be a fun summer trip!" to "this is what my life has been missing".
I was ecstatic when I was chosen; I told my boss I'd be quitting in 8 months, and I still can't stop talking about it to my friends. I really feel good about this. I am honored to be a part of the tradition, and look forward to bringing smiles to people's faces and helping others get past pain to hope. I feel like I'm doing something to improve my world, and that feels better than anything I can think of.
We'll pedal across the country, and we'll raise awareness and educate about cancer prevention. But we'll be riding for a team. Team Homo Sapiens. And we're gonna ride to win a future without cancer--the biggest prize ever. I can't wait!