Bike adventure

Why is my life always so adventurous? And by always, I mean once in a long while that makes me wish it were once in a short while but simultaneously wonder if I could handle that much adventure at once...

I went out this morning for what was going to be a short bike ride. I haven't ridden in a while, and I started to get tired after 20 minutes, so I figured it was time to head back. But I kept riding down the Bay Trail, eventually getting to Emeryville, where I decided to head back through the town. I had some checks I needed to deposit, so I rode up Powell to Adeline to Shattuck, and stopped at the downtown Berkeley WaMu (now Chase) bank. Of course, I then discovered that I didn't have my checks with me. Oh well. I wandered into a café next door, and they were advertising blueberry smoothies; and of course I had to get one. As I was sitting eating/drinking my delicious smoothie, I picked up a flyer for a bike ride down Hwy 1 (PCH for you SoCal'ers) from Carmel to Hearst Castle. It was benefitting a group called Best Buddies -- kind of like Big Brothers Big Sisters, but for the mentally handicapped. Now it happens that mental illnesses are an interesting case to me, partly because I value intelligence so much, and it is interesting to me that some people get by just fine without very much of it; and partly because I don't understand why God allows mental defects to occur -- since we make our choices with our minds, including moral choices, and even the choice to follow God or not. So if our minds are not functioning properly, how does that bear on our eternal salvation? But I digress.

Seeing as how I wasn't going anywhere soon (I had work at 1:30), I relaxed with my smoothie and my iPhone, which I used to look up the website for Best Buddies. And wouldn't you know it, they're having an informational meeting tonight in SF. I figured why not go, since it was just a hop, skip, and jump over the bay, and was right off the BART station on the Embarcadero. I decided not to even bother going home at that point, so I just rode on over to work (where I helped research an incident of credit card fraud), and at 5:15 rode back to the BART station and hopped, skipped, and jumped over the bay (with my bike) to Gordon Biersch Brewery.

There were three other people there from the group: the two organizers and one guy who had done it 5 times with his company. Two other people showed up later on, both also veterans. I learned a lot about both the event and the cause, both of which sounded really interesting to me. Best Buddies, like Big Brothers/Big Sisters, pairs you up with a mentally disabled person of your age and gender, with whom you hang out just as friends (no mentoring required). The people who had done it a few times told me that, after the year was over, I would remember my times with my Buddy a lot more than the race itself.

The race itself is down the coast highway to Hearst Castle. There are different lengths of 15, 35, 62, and 100 miles, depending on how suicidal you feel. I was deciding between the 35 and the 62-mile lengths, as I have ridden the 30 miles round-trip to Santa Rosa without much of a problem, and that was on practically no practice. The 62-mile trip starts at Big Sur, which makes it even more appealing! I talked with one of the organizers, Jeremiah, about what kind of equipment and training I would need, and he provided multiple resources (including a bike store where they had negotiated a 20% discount!) to help me out. The hard part -- harder than training -- will be raising the $1700 to benefit the cause. They gave me ideas for this too -- plus, Jenn Mosbacher raised $4000 for Team in Training a few years ago, so I know it's possible. Must talk with her.... Gordon Biersch was also very gracious when I accidentally ordered the wrong thing, taking it back and cooking me what I'd actually wanted at no additional cost!

So then my adventure was over, right? No! I realized that this was the first time I had been in San Francisco with a bike, so I was tempted to go riding around; but I was also tired, so I went down to the BART station to ride home. And guess what? BART had a delay on all trains through the tunnel, which I took as a sign to go back up and have a little more fun. I decided to ride up Telegraph Hill to Coit Tower. Oh Lord, was that hard! I thought I was going to die, and had to catch my breath for about a minute after just the first block! There was one place where, instead of riding 4-5 blocks out of my way, I carried my bike up the stairs, which was not easy, though considerably easier than riding up those murderous hills!

At the top, I was enjoying the view, and about to take a spectacular picture of the full moon right in between two of the Bay Bridge towers, when some guy, about my age, commented on my bike ride up the hill. I started talking to him and his friends, who all turned out to be vagabonds from various places in the US. He was from Los Angeles, another was from Louisiana, and one from Washington State. They had some interesting stories about hitchhiking across the country, trying to find food and shelter, and meeting some amazing people along the way. I told them about San Francisco, about Berkeley, and that both were great places to visit, see/play music, and probaby find some good-willed people to help them out with their needs. (Since I was on my bike, I had nothing with me.) After talking with them for about 45 minutes, I coasted down the street (fun! But it was night and I had to watch for potholes...) at speeds that were not quite as lethal as I have at other times done, and wandered around North Beach as I slowly made my way southward. There was a good-sounding band playing at a bar on Grant St that I stopped to listen to for a little bit, but had to get moving because I knew it was late.

On the way, I got a call from a friend in Sacramento, saying that a certain person who happened to have been the father of my friend's daughter, as well as the father of several other poor young women's children, had died in a solo plane crash. This was interesting, as I had only really heard bad things about this guy, and felt no sorrow. I would have expected to still feel some sadness that a young guy whom I had met (or rather, seen from a distance) had died so early; but I didn't. Instead, I considered how free my friend would feel, now that she didn't have to worry about his harrassments about custody or his vain entreaties for marriage. Later on, though, I forced myself to say a prayer for his soul, since any soul that is in Heaven is a good thing.

Obviously, God was with me today, though I didn't feel His presence when I prayed, and couldn't hear His voice very clearly. But I could see evidence of His workings all throughout the day, from beginning to end. I guess that is another way that we must learn to hear God -- in the winds and the earthquakes, in addition to the still, small whisper.