DAY 35
Philadelphia to Ocean City, NJ
95 miles
Bad stomach.
I spent last night sweating and clutching my stomach. Apparently something I ate at that awesome Cuban restaurant did not agree with me. I have to believe that at least part of me was overly-worked up about the last day of riding, too. Regardless, I spent an equal amount of time on the toilet and the bed and woke up with serious doubts about my ability to ride. I even joked (half-heartedly) about finding and wearing a depends diaper. If I could have found one...
We got down to the RV and did our last gear up for the ride. I was in pain because of my stomach and also because of the fact that this was it. Everyone else was talking about how relieved they were. I didn’t feel that way.
I watched Gary go up the ramp and off to the location where we were to meet the other riders. The rest of us took a little more time to gear up. It was a sacred and eerie moment.
We met the riders at 6th and Walnut. Mikey, the DP, was there -- right on time (great guy). It took us 45 minutes to get all 25 riders together. This was to be quite a different adventure with all these new riders -- extremely variant levels of riding ability, too.
We rode over the GW bridge into New Jersey -- another state sign we wouldn’t get as it was on a river (like MO to IL). It was fun riding on the bridge -- we had to have a police officer let us in as the bridge has been closed to foot traffic since 9/11. That’s really too bad.
I rode very slowly for the first two rides, really soaking in the mood. I didn’t talk much. Finally, in the third pull, I decided to get riding out of my head and talk to the other riders. I met the president of Cigna Insurance - his name is David. He’s a young guy (39) and a serious triathlete (he has competed in the Hawaiian Ironman among others!). We had an awesome conversation about the health problems in America. His perspective was amazing. We agreed to stay in contact after the trip.
After breaking out of the pack, a group of us decided to pick up the pace and really start riding. It was fun, but it didn’t take long to get lost, either. We called Chris and after some debate, agreed on a manner of getting ourselves back on course (which included him coming to pick us up and drop us off in the right place. We didn’t lose any miles on this path as we had gone more miles than we would have the other way -- just what I need, more miles).
Back with the group, I took over the point position in terms of direction. I like being in this leadership place. I like being counted and relied upon. We rolled on and eventually found a hot pace again -- averaging about 23 miles per hour. This time we were on the right course and about eight of us stuck it out and worked this line together. It was awesome to work as a team like this and have everyone do their part.
We stopped about three miles shy of the boardwalk as we had to wait for our police escort. Three miles to go and I began to flatten out. The emotion of the earlier part of the day was gone. It was replaced by an even buzz in my head. This was it. This was the end, my friend.
We rode into Ocean City and took pictures at the welcome sign -- perhaps our last group photo. Mikey jumped in the police cruiser to get the reverse perspective of our final ride and I grabbed last second interviews with the riders. We lined up: Bernie, Raul, Geoff, Gary and me. The salt air filled our lungs. The people on the streets stopped and stared. We waved. They had no idea what we had done or who we were. Why would they? Much as this was worldwide news to us, that just demonstrates how small and how large our points of view had become. It was similar to when I was on the cruise ships or on the road last year -- I became so focussed on what I was doing that the rest of the world went away. That’s not to say we didn’t touch our outside environment -- technology has certainly played a big part in that. We had internet access every couple of days and everyone had cell phones that worked to varying degrees. Still, the focus on the now was razor sharp.
And now that fades...unless, of course, like me there’s a need to stay on that edge. Annamaria and I talked yesterday and we decided it’s time to move on marketing “Boys of Summer”. We have a basic strategy to approach as many companies that we have contact with (and there are some good biggies) and raise money toward getting on the road during the playoffs/World Series to see games that we can get to and have screenings in the cities that are hosting games. I’ll be laying out the budget in the next couple of days. All those with ideas (and, more importantly, contacts) should contact us immediately!
Sidetrack -- sorry. Back to story:
We went up on the boardwalk among a cheering crowd of hundreds of people. They blocked off a portion for us and the mayor greeted us with handshakes, baseball caps and mugs. We each got a chance to address the crowd. It was wonderful to have the opportunity to say a few things on my heart. A moment later it was time to do the ceremonial dunking of our front wheels in the Atlantic Ocean. Rear wheels in the pacific, front in the Atlantic. We carried our bikes down to the ocean and, as a team, rolled the front wheels in. Huge applause. Gary then announced that since Chris dunked his feet in Pacific, we would dunk his head in the Atlantic. Fortunately, Chris complied as it would have been a struggle to try to get him to submit via force. In he went and so went the rest of us. Swimming in the warm Atlantic (82) was beautiful, healing and completing. The even numbness continued. There were no tears, no terrific outbursts from me -- more of a stunned look on my face than anything else. I watched everyone hug and reunite with their families and I did my part -- I filmed it.
Raul asked me several times if I was okay. I told him yes. He tried to hug a smile out of me and I complied.
Afterward we piled everything in the SAG and went the few blocks over to the Earl’s beach house where I’ll be staying for the next couple of days. I sat in the SAG off to the side as everyone did their last-minute work. I waited them all out. I needed a few moments to consider what was coming with me and what would wait until later. More than anything, I needed a few minutes to myself. I grabbed a few clothes and my bathroom gear and headed inside.
The house was jumping. I smiled and shook some hands, but couldn’t shake my numbness. I called Annamaria -- something I’d been meaning to do but just hadn’t gotten to yet. That grounding, that love, brought me back to a place of comfortable calm. I was able to realize that the depth of my pain was coming from the fact that I had been part of something very important. I also realized that my heart was engaged fully -- I had meaning and was part of something that served my highest good. I was supported and loved on a daily basis. The work was hard -- sometimes torturous -- but always rewarding and rewarded. This doesn’t happen in my daily life -- and I would venture to say not in many people’s daily lives.
So what’s the answer? How do I fill this hole? I don’t think it’s any one thing. I think it’s being available to many things. I think it’s being open. I think it’s listening for people who need help and finding out how I can be of service. I do think a great part of my existence is to help give voice to those who have a hard time being heard and yet have much to offer. That is my gift. I am a communicator and an entertainer. It is my gift and my honor to share it.
I know this for sure: I can’t do pointless work. I can’t do 9-5 for a paycheck. If I need to make money (as that is a part of living in this country -- and most others), then I will do so, but never in such a manner as to turn my back or my heart or soul on the larger picture of what I am here to do: serve.