I had a great day riding with my buddies from Coastal Bicycle Touring Club. I've been racing and training hard all Summer and I have only made a few rides with this group. I really looked forward to being able to join them on the 102mile Savannah Century ride. Last year I rode it solo, and it just seemed long, and boring, and I barely crawled in the last few miles. Old Louisville Road into Savannah seems like it goes on forever.
I had ridden another century from Jesup to Darien and back, with the same core group of riders and it was one of those rides we still talk about. Nothing spectacular, just a shared time fondly remembered. As a group, we are not out to beat any records or even try to set a new personal best time. We just hold a steady, easy, pace, and we seem to pick up a few more riders. I call them strays. People who are riding alone, or got left behind by their group, and need someone to ride with.
Road cycling is very much a cooperative effort. Cyclist in a paceline draft off each other, letting them ride faster and easier than they could alone. The rider at the front of the paceline works hard "pulling" the riders behind him, then rotates to the back of the line to rest while the next rider takes a pull up front. I often enjoy pulling for a while, especially after spending a lot of time wheel to wheel back in the paceline.
Around 60 miles into the ride I became aware that one of the guys riding with us was having some problems. He was having cramps in his thighs. I've had them and they can be excruciating painful. I made the usual encouragements to eat and drink plenty, but I wasn't sure that was going to help. He seemed ready to give up, but after the rest stop he got back on his bike and continued on.
At the next rest stop he said he was ready to quit, and said he would ride back in the SAG van. He asked if I knew who to ask to call for him. I told him about when I had quit on a ride, that the trip back in the van took hours, and that he would regret quitting. A few minutes later he said he was riding ahead, afraid that standing still would worsen his cramps, and would ride with us once we caught up to him.
After the last rest stop he said we should leave him and he would ride back alone, the last 15 miles. I've been that beat down before, when the only reason you keep going at all, is just to be finished. I knew he could make it back alone, but I knew he shouldn't have to. It's crushing, it's miserable, and I couldn't leave him. So we rode with him. And we stayed together to the finish.
For the rest of us it was a pretty hard ride, but for him it was a ride that took something even more. It meant not taking the easy way, when it was right within reach, and it meant pushing himself beyond what he thought he could do, what he had done before. Seeing someone fight so bravely, struggle so hard, I can't help but feel admiration and respect for them, to feel honored to be with them in their moment. That time, when a person finds that place inside themselves where their strength lies hidden, and that's when they become "the hero".
