First, lemme just say the desert is hot.
I know that seems rather obvious.
But you guys, I grew up in West Texas.
I thought that was hot.
I was in India last year during their most dramatic heat wave in twenty-seven years. It was 120 degrees there.
I thought that was hot.
And so I figured with my experience with hot weather, surely riding a bike through the desert would be a piece of cake.
Easy.
(Please pause here to laugh. Loud and hard. Seriously. Because I am. Here’s a view from today’s ride.)
Anyway, on the Ride:Well tour, not everyone rides every mile, every day. Some people do (and I love them. And they blow my mind). But I am not one of those people.
Today, however, I really thought I’d ride the entire day. It was mostly flat terrain, we got an early start, and I was keeping a great pace.
After being on the road for about three hours, we made a turn and faced a very hilly 20 mile stretch.
Hills aren’t a big deal for me. I’m slow, but I live in Nashville so that’s what I’m used to cycling on.
I guess the equation of HILLS + BOILING HOT WEATHER = GETTING PUT IN THE VAN.
At first, the hilly stretch was hard. It wasn’t too bad, but it was hard. Nothing we couldn’t push through.
Then came one big hill.
I had to pull over at the top.
Checked my heart rate.
190.
(And remember, I had heart surgery to fix these crazy heart rates. 190 is fine – it’s not my max – but it hasn’t been that high since last summer!)
I rested a bit, let it recover, and we went up the next hill.
Longer.
Steeper.
And I swear the sun was hotter…
Our group of six got to the top of the hill and I said I needed another breather.
Checked my pulse.
210.
TWO FREAKING TEN.
After surgery. And on a medicine which helps keep my heart rate low.
I knew it wasn’t safe to continue.
We all knew.
So we called the van.
I had to come off the road.
I was mad.
I dropped my bike (carefully, mind you), and walked away.
Hot tears began streaming down my face.
THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE DAY I RODE THE WHOLE ROUTE. THE DAY I FINISHED.
And I walked away, unstrapping my helmet and waddling down in my road shoes in the sinking sand of the California desert.
I had a full bottle of water with me. I looked over my shoulder. The other five guys were there. I wondered if they’d notice if I threw it into the desert. Then I thought I’d have to go get it…through the cacti. I really just wanted to punch something.
WHY WASN’T MY HEART BEHAVING????!!! WHY CAN’T MY HEART JUST BE NORMAL???!!!! WHY DO I HAVE TO GET IN THE *#%&@* VAN???!!!
I took my helmet off and considered drop-kicking it. But that would be stupid because if you’ve ever tried walking in road shoes you know how easy it is to fall over.
And then there was the whole cacti thing again.
So out, alone, away from my team I stood. For a good, solid, ten minutes alone. (Adam took this picture. I’m so glad he did, because I realize how ridiculous I look…ALL ALONE!)
The van came and picked me up (along with a couple other cyclists) and took us to the next stop a few miles away for lunch.
I sat almost silent during the entire lunch, still so angry with something I have no control over.
As lunch wrapped up, we found out our route had changed because of some impassable roads. The entire team of seventeen people fit into a 15-passenger van (that really only seats 13 — this is Karl laying on top of about four other guys) and we drove to the edge of Yuma, our destination for the night.
Praying the Yuma-to-host-church terrain didn’t have many climbs, I put on my helmet and strapped on my road shoes. I pulled out my bike and clipped into my pedals.
Ten (hot, slow, traffic-laden) miles later, we arrived at our destination. Granted, our 82 mile day become a 50 mile day, but I was so thankful I had the chance to ride 45 of those miles, including the final ten.
It wasn’t perfect. But I had finished.
—-
If you’ve been around here much, you know I haven’t really cried much since my trip to Haiti.
I think I’ve cried about ten times already in the last two days.
Some tears have been tears of frustration (i.e., the story above). Some have been tears of fear or just stress from sleeping in a different place every night and having my belongings for the next two months contained in one plastic bin.
Most have been tears of gratefulness. Gratefulness for these seventeen people who truly surround each other and push each other. Sometimes it’s to go faster. Sometimes it’s to slow down. Sometimes it’s just sacrificing their own goals to help a teammate make it a little farther, like riding into Yuma today. The two guys I was riding with could have finished that in twenty minutes, but they let me pace slowly with them so my heart rate stayed stable. It took longer, it meant more time in the 112-degree sun and almost crashing a few times but I felt so humbled they sandwiched me in between them to keep me safe and keep me going.
It’s funny how hard it is to let people in our lives sometimes. To stop and say, “I need a break,” or “Can we slow down?” or “Help me,” or to even accept that help when you need it but are too stubborn to ask. But when everything is stripped away – our appearances, what we do outside of this tour, and good gosh, the terrible way we smell – opening up is vital. So vital.
Maybe you’re not on a bike for two months this summer, but if I can encourage you in anything, it would be to open up. To get sweaty, dirty, covered in grease, road-rash, saddle sores, and show your weakness to someone. Let them carry you, and if you see someone wobbling along the way, carry them.
It’s truly life-giving. And that’s really all I can say about that.
—-
Comments
26 responses to “Don’t Look Dumb in the Desert”
I am proud of you Anne. I wrote to you on DailyMile as well. You have nothing, absolutely nothing, to be ashamed of. I can remember my first tour. I cycled in the flatlands and the last day of this tour went through a national forest…crazy hills. After struggling up on I finally had to get off about 50 yards from the top. Figured I could ride and die or get off to ride some more. Here comes this 14 year old girl just chugging away, passing me and over the top. I learned there was nothing wrong or humiliating in getting off the bike to walk. Keep up the good work.
.-= Bill (cycleguy)´s last blog ..Let Me Introduce You! =-.
Anne, you just kicked my butt. Again. I’m dealing with my own heart issues — odd and sundry racing off without me moments and such. Had the whole nuclear stress test & echo on Monday, get results Friday. I have shared that I’ve had the tests, that it’s held up the foot surgery I need, that I’ve been frustrated… but no one’s known the fear. Guess I need to share that.
Letting others see me as weak or vulnerable is not me. I’m gonna need big help in this one.
.-= Faye´s last blog ..UNcomfortable =-.
Yeah … it’s hard when God says “get in the van.” And we don’t want to get in the van, because it’s not what we had planned. Or hoped for. Or dreamed about.
And I guess it’s those “getting in the van” times that will stand out for us when we look back. Cause those are the occasions where we realized that we could come to Him with everything that is true about us.
All our frustration. Rage. Pain. Disappointment.
And He understood.
And it made us feel closer to Him. Because He got it. Even if no one else did.
.-= Linda Stoll´s last blog ..Steps to Healing From Hidden Wounds =-.
I’m not much of a cryer, but this post has put a big lump in my throat. Thanks for sharing and reminding us all to ask for help, and give it when we see a need. I wish you all were riding through my area! I’d stand on the roadside and cheer. Congrats on finishing today, even if it wasn’t what you originally expected.
.-= Amelia´s last blog ..Politics according to a 5-year-old =-.
The temps are coming down this weekend, just in time for the stretch to Phoenix. I hope to catch up with your team between Gila Bend and Maricopa. See you on the road, and never, never, never, never give up.
Anne, I work with Adam Goodman in the Admissions Office at UNA. I think I’m going to know more about what he’s doing by following you on Twitter! He’s the only guy in our office and most of us are moms so we worry about him. Keep an eye on him for us, okay? I’m praying for you guys daily!
Blessings,
Ranee
Hang in there, i think what you’re doing is wonderful!
i’m honored to call you my friend & my sister. keep going (even if it is in the van). take care of yourself. listen to your heart (physically and figuratively). it is about the journey not just the means of getting there. love you.
.-= Crystal Renaud´s last blog ..Silence =-.
Keep working it AJ, you’re doing great – Peace and Love from “cool” Texas!
I agree with Crystal…staying in the van is just a part because you’re the only Anne Jackson and no one else could ever in a million years have all the passion and love for mankind. You are the greatest! May the Lord make His face to shine upon you and your group!
.-= Carol´s last blog ..Home Blessings! =-.
Oh … so sorry about your day. Hate when my body doesn’t cooperate the way I want it to.
Getting in the van was the right thing to do … and so was spending time alone, even if you think you looked silly – which you didn’t. You had to process the change of plans, plus you are living, traveling, biking with 17 people – I’d need alone time often.
Ride on – Ride well!
.-= Janet oberholtzer´s last blog ..Grieving the Loss of Eleven Smiles =-.
Anne,
You don’t know how much this ministered to me this morning. Since having a viral attack on my heart in 2008 my life is a life of surprises. Who knows what surprise is in store for me each and every Dr visit. Losing 117 pounds and much healthier, I found out yesterday the right side of my heart is enlarged. Another journey. I’ve not been mad or depressed or really upset but comtemplative. Then I read your words this morning and God so used them. Thank you for being so honest and real. Thank you for sharing the weak moments because God used you this morning to do His work in my heart, whether it be enlarged or not.
Anne, you rock. I’m proud of you for taking on a ride of this magnitude. I’d be just as ticked as you were if I were in your cycling shoes. I may have even kicked my helmet straight into the cacti.
It’s a tough ride you’re on and you’re doing the right thing to stay healthy along the way. Just know there are plenty of people pulling for you.
Keep on riding girl!
Keep on going, Anne! (whether via bike or van)
Push yourself until you get to where you need to cry out, and then enjoy the gift of having folks with you to cry out to. It’s a good, good thing.
Praying for you all…
.-= Josh´s last blog ..Lessons From Linda =-.
Thank you Anne for your honest and real approach. I really respect your transparency about the “negative” thoughts and feelings because we often don’t want to share those.
Please take care of yourself and continue to recognize those times where you need a break. It is okay to express that and I am thankful you have a team that recognizes it.
Thank you also for encouraging others to continue to share, get dirty, and get real. Many of us have tried this and have been disappointed, hurt, or left alone and abandoned. The truth is, that may happen at times, but your story today shows that there are others who will come alongside you, support you protect you, and care. That picture is beautiful. That picture is Christ being living in active in our world and I am grateful you shared it!
.-= Sherie´s last blog ..Cocoons Produce Butterflies =-.
Beautiful, Anne. Opening up is a lesson in progress I’ve been forced to learn the hard way because I’m stubborn. But, it’s so important and has an incredible impact on every other aspect of life.
I know all to well the feeling of your heart & mind wanting to push further than your body will allow. And it’s incredibly frustrating. But as you’ve learned you’re always better off taking care of yourself in those situations.
Praying for continued health, safety, & strength on the trip!!
.-= Katie´s last blog ..One Size Fits All =-.
Anne,
Having read about your struggles and your true feelings has actually shown me what a wonderful group of people my son is with. Chase has spoken highly of you and has shared with me what an encourager you are. I have enjoyed reading your stories and will continue to keep up with the entire Ride:Well team. I pray for all of you daily. You are all awesome and have such a passion for people. Do what you can but be safe!
thank you for doing the safe thing. we need your honesty and your openness. we need to know that even the disappointing days are important
Two years ago today I cried…a lot. I was so close to the top…so close. Day 1 RideWell 2008…95 degrees about 11000 ft of climb and I bonked…bad. I rode in with a nice Mexican, who spoke little english and me essentially no spanish and my bike in the back of his pickup. When I saw how close I was to the top…I wanted to get out but couldn’t. Heartfelt naked messy stuff here, Anne. This is the joy that comes doing these big epic adventures…allowing God to work on us.
.-= ironmike´s last blog ..your blood pressure is…WHAT ? =-.
You have me crying friend. I know this heat. It’s treacherous on a body, and I can’t imagine riding a bike in it. You are amazing. Thanks for all the reminders here.
.-= Prudence´s last blog ..Loneliness Lies =-.
You are amazing….I so love your honesty and your passion. We are praying for you here in Denver. Take care of yourself…what a journey.
That’s the problem with the desert. When you really need to punch something, all there is is cacti. But most of the time, when you feel like giving up, you’re probably way harder on yourself than anyone else is going to be. It’s not meeting you’re own expectations that’s the worst.
Girl, when I arrived in Tucson, AZ it was 111 outside, the dead of august and I wanted to chuck everything…why had God assigned me to hell on earth and was it some cruel joke to prepare me for ministry in the middle east one day with no a/c???
All that to say….way to ride, way to embrace your limits (not fun i know) and what beautiful stories that are being learned and told along the way. Thanks for sharing…ride, girl, ride!
All 4 of us are SO glad you didn’t have a heart attack. We didn’t see that problem coming. I lived down there for nearly ten years, and all of us for 3 to 5. We know the heat well (have seen it hit 127). We all prayed for you a lot, but more about heat stroke, not your heart.
We’re glad you had a friend call your cardiologist. Whatever he says, do it. Continue on? Do it. Just drive the van? Do it. Rent a car with Chris and take a relaxing tour of the West, and rejoin the group later? Do it.
DO NOT feel you’ve failed. (I know, I know, the intellect agrees, the emotions don’t. Been there.) But God knew all along how it would go; still, he had you do it, and you obeyed. No failure there; he’s just smarter.
And in all this, Anne, for years, you’ve taught us all a lot about the diverse groups in this country – including Ride:Well – who are ministering to needy “neighbors” worldwide. If we can speak for all those who read your blogs, that will change and enlarge our future giving. If you never did anything more – and you will – that alone will prove worth it. God bless you.
I wish I were there to watch you cry. We both know you needed to! I would have given you my shoulder. Let you sob and sob. And, who knows, I might have even let you punch me.
Waiting and watching and being incredibly proud of you.
.-= Gail Hyatt´s last blog ..Habits: Like well worn paths… =-.
Great story, Anne. Thanks for sharing. I think vulnerability begets more vulnerability. You’ve inspired me to ask for help when I need it and to humbly accept grace.
Btw, 210 is frickin’ high for a heart rate (I don’t think mines has ever been that high), and 45 miles, is um, really long. I know you’re riding a lot longer than that and doing so with some studs, but don’t forget how remarkable what you’re doing really is… even on the days when you’re feeling “weak.”
I’m glad that you’re remembering to be grateful, because sometimes it’s so easy to forget where we’ve come from, because we see how far we still have to go.
Blessings on the rest of your journey. I’m glad Chris is there with you.
.-= Jeff Goins´s last blog ..Are You a Weak Leader? (Five Characteristics) =-.