Tag: MS150

Yeast, Fire, and Friends

Yeast and Warmth at the Bike Shop

 

A year ago I posted a little piece on my friend Ted, and our annual MS150 pilgrimage through northern Colorado together. You can read that post here. In it I tell the story of how he was in great shape, I wasn’t, and he made me suffer for it. The punch line is that he’s in his mid-70’s, has leukemia, and yet chased down every young lion who passed us.

A year has passed, and Ted has just gotten stronger. He seems to have found a new lease on life in his 75th year, continuing to battle the little inconveniences and other BS that the cancer drops in his life from time to time.

Allow me to digress slightly, and talk about bread. I make bread around our house. It’s nice sourdough bread, and a batch nets me several loaves, most of which go into the freezer. When they’re gone, I’ll get the yeast jar out of the fridge, and start the daily feeding of it until it’s robust and ready to bake bread. Getting it there takes several days, then back into the fridge the yeast starter goes, waiting for the next round to begin. The jar sits 20 feet from me as I type these words, and it will start a batch of bread tonight before being tucked away for a few weeks.

I suspect it’s that notion of the perpetual yeast that got me thinking this morning, as I lay awake in bed, about the notion of fire, and how our primitive ancestors would have nurtured and protected their “starter” for fire, as starting fire up anew would have been a pain, what with all the rubbing sticks together and all that.

And all those thoughts churned around and brought me back to Ted, and the notion of friends. Friendship really. And the idea of a little jar of “starter” that friends represent in our life. We don’t spend every day with them, but when we get together, the yeast of love and friendship blossoms into robust delight at the good feelings that being together brings to us.

Which brings me to the real thing I wanted to say. My buddy Dave and I had a fantastic ride yesterday morning. Lots of climbing, lots of miles, some good discussions, a granola bar and some oreo cookies shared. Then we hauled our bikes down to Creekside Bikes for their annual physicals, where we unexpectedly ran into Ted with his bike shop buddies as they had pizza after their Saturday morning ride.

As I sat there, seeing my best friend Ted surrounded by his bike shop buddies, looking over his shoulder at my other best friend Dave as he huddled with the mechanic to finalize the treatment plan for his steed, it struck me how lucky I am to have the yeast of these friendships in my life. Their friendship feeds my soul and warms my heart.

And I suppose that’s how those thoughts of perpetual fire and yeast jumbled around together in my tiny little brain as I lay awake this morning, reminding me again of just how intertwined we all are with one another. I leaned over and kissed Christine, who mumbled something incoherent but loving as she wrapped an arm around me. I heard her smile as I climbed out of bed, headed downstairs to check on my yeast starter, and do some writing.

Oh, back to the MS150. Once again, Ted punished me up the hills, and kept the pace higher than I liked. He didn’t chase down every young lion who passed us, only the ones that seemed to be going particularly fast.

When I grow up I want to be as fast as Ted…

The indomitable, unstoppable, in·de·fat·i·ga·ble Ted.

Another year, another MS150 ride, another instance of amazement at my friend Ted

Ted’s my riding buddy. Fifteen or twenty years ago, he got me back into bike riding in a serious way. We started riding the MS150 together, and it’s become an annual tradition for us.

Ted’s been training hard this year, getting into pretty great shape. He decided we’d do the century option on Day 1 of the MS150 here in Colorado last Saturday, and I had no doubt he’d do it well and fast. It was me I worried about. My longest ride of the year so far had been 65 miles, and I’d done very little climbing. So of course, as I expected, once we started getting into the hills on Saturday, Ted took off and I didn’t see him for a while – not until the hills were over somewhere around 85 miles into the day, and I caught up to him as he napped under a tree, waiting for me at a rest stop.

Sunday wasn’t much easier, as Ted felt compelled to chase down every young lion who passed him, catching them just for the fun of it, then waiting for me to catch up. Although there was no century option on Sunday, (thank god for that), Ted pushed our pace all morning, and they weren’t even finished setting up lunch when we hit that stop. We finished the ride by 10:30 in the morning. Needless to say, there were very few people there by that time…

So not that big a story really, until you realize that Ted is 74 years old. Of course, here in Colorado, us old guys ride a lot, and some of us are reasonably good riders. I generally don’t think of myself as a slouch on a bike – I’m 62 and recently cycled across the country for example – but there was no way I could keep up with Ted over the weekend.

Ted, at 74, was chasing down the ones he calls the young lions… And catching them.

Not bad for an old guy, right?

But wait, there’s more, says the man with a tiny little fishing rig in his hand…

Did I mention this – Ted has Leukemia. Was diagnosed close to 20 years ago, and has gone through several rounds of chemo in that time.

So here’s to the old guys – the ones who are indefatigable.

in·de·fat·i·ga·ble
ˌindəˈfadəɡəb(ə)l/
adjective
adjective: indefatigable
  1. (of a person or their efforts) persisting tirelessly.
    “an indefatigable defender of human rights”

A cross-country bicycle adventure is the canvas for this tale of discovery along the winding backroads of America’s heartland. The second book in the “Cycling Reflections” series, Pilgrim Spokes tells the story of the eastern half of the trans-American trek, continuing the saga begun in Neil’s award-winning previous book—Pilgrim Wheels—which reconnoiters the western half of the journey.

More than just a journal of a bike ride across the country, Hanson’s delightful and beautifully written story takes the reader on an engaging pilgrimage of observation and reflection. Often hilarious, sometimes poignant, and always inspiring, it’s a must-read adventure that will stir your soul.