Proof that I’m not riding alone – By David Freeze
Part 1
Back in 2013, I decided to give long distance cycling a try. Maybe just a tad more than a try. I decided to ride from Anacortes, Oregon to Myrtle Beach. I knew I would learn a lot about myself, but I didn’t know how much these adventures would deepen my faith. I have included a short recap of three events, two of which assured me of God’s intervention. Or at least that’s the way it looked to me. You may understand why I never worry what might be ahead, danger included.
In 2013, my flights were delayed to Portland and I missed a shuttle to Anacortes, the point where I would pick up my bike and begin the biggest adventure of my life. With the late arrival, I had to hire a van to drive just me from Portland to Anacortes where the bike was waiting on me. Previously, I was planning to get the bike on Saturday afternoon and begin riding east right away. With my late arrival on Saturday, the bike shop had already closed, and I picked it up on Sunday morning. The owner wanted me to try out the bike before I left the area, just to make sure everything was working right. He said, “Make sure you ride up the only hill in town. You’ll see it.” I was about to ride over 4,000 miles across our great nation, climb across the Rockies, the Ozarks and more.
I struggled to climb this small but steep hill and had to stop to let my legs catch up about midway. Just an elevation increase of 500 feet had given me trouble. I was demoralized but then headed back to my room to pack the bike. I sat down, asked God to protect me, help me make the right decisions, provide strength when needed and simply to hear me say, “Lord, ride with me today!” The strange peace that came with saying that statement to Him was unbelievable. I left that room with a calmness that would continue all the way through nearly 12,000 feet of elevation in Colorado. To this day, I won’t start my daily ride, no matter the circumstances, without saying, “Lord, ride with me today.”
A couple weeks later, on the same ride, I was in a vast national park on a Sunday and running out of water. Water is the key supply that matters most to a long distance cyclist. Without it, energy leaves quickly, the mouth feels like rough sandpaper and the tongue just sticks to the roof or bottom of the mouth. I was to this point, knowing that I had no chance of supply for at least 12 more miles, all uphill. I had a swallow left in one bottle. Yes, poor planning on my part, but the facts were that I would probably not die but the next three hours would be miserable unless something happened.
I stopped to say my prayer again and ask for Him for help. This park was nothing but wilderness in the area, no place to stop until I saw the sign for a rest area ahead. Rest areas out west don’t have water, at least any potable (drinking) water. My hope was that someone might stop with available extra water. No cars were passing me, and I did feel more alone than I should.
At the rest area, no one was around. Two portajohn style buildings and a trash receptacle were the only amenities. I sat for a minute wondering what to do, knowing that this would be the best chance to find help until I reached the campground 12 miles ahead.
Just then, I looked up to see a white surveyor’s truck pull onto the grass next to the parking lot. When the driver got out, I walked over to ask him about water. It took no courage to do this because the situation was soon to be serious.
Remember that this was a Sunday, less traffic than other days, and that I was out of water. The surveyor told me, “I never work on Sunday, but we needed some data today and I’m here to get it. I don’t have any water. No wait! This isn’t my truck and this truck does have some bottled water in it. You are welcome to what you need.” The surveyor had driven this truck because his normal one was not available. I got the water I needed, thanked him and rode on ahead nearly 12 miles to the campground where my supplies were topped off.
Continued……
