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Saturday, April 11, 2009
The Journey - by Mango Mike
Nearly four decades ago on a quiet street in Linda Vista, my hands firmly
gripped on the handlebars and feet planted squarely on the pedals, my dad gave me a push that would launch me into the world
of bicycling. Now, all of these years later, I look back fondly on that life-changing moment and give thanks
to the man who, like many other dads, taught me to ride a bike. I could not have known that nearly 40 years
later that simple push and his cries of “Pedal! Pedal! Pedal!” would eventually
lead to a passion for the sport of cycling. As my father did, I too, would some day carry on the tradition
with my own kids, and feel the same sense of pride he must have felt the moment he let go and watched me ride on two wheels.
I could not have imagined that so late in my life I would re-discover the
excitement of riding on two wheels, but no longer just on that quiet street where I rode my first bike. It
took the persistence of my daughter, who, in 2005 after months of training, decided she would take on the challenge of riding
her bike across California accompanied by me and her 5th grade friends and their families. The idea of pedaling
with my daughter 280 miles from the Colorado River, through the Imperial Valley, Julian, and ultimately to the Pacific Ocean seemed like a great idea, and it was.
It was a struggle. There were moments of frustration. There was plenty of suffering.
It was as adventure. Most of all it was a chance for me to see what my little girl was really made
of, and she did not disappoint. It was the ride of a lifetime.
The Ride Across California opened the door
to the world of long-distance cycling to me, and I owe it to my daughter for having the courage at such a tender age to take
on such a challenge. I will always look back with pride knowing that she, like my dad many years before,
gave me a push that would again launch me into the world of cycling.
The day after my father passed away I hopped on my bike and went for a ride. This
time it wasn’t on the green Huffy with the banana seat and chopper-style handlebars. That bike is
long gone and only the memories of that bike and that period in my life remain. I knew that morning I just had to
ride. Perhaps it was because I didn’t know what else to do to get the day started, or maybe because
I knew it would be the only way I could be by myself and think about my dad and all he meant to me. Maybe
it was because I could have a good cry and not worry that anyone was looking. Mostly, it was my therapy
for coming to grips with the fact that the man who gave so much of himself was, as my brother put it, “On his final
deployment”. The only difference this time is that I knew he wouldn’t be coming back.
I think about my dad every day whether I’m on the bike or not, and in his memory I wear my LiveStrong band wherever
I go. Before my dad’s battle with cancer the yellow band was more of a symbol that I was a cyclist
and fan of cycling. Now it has real meaning – meaning that my father gave to it.
It displays the message that represents the way my dad lived his life to the end, the way I want to live mine, and
my kids theirs, for better or for worse, in good times and in bad. Life is fleeting. Make
the most of it, and have a great ride!
9:35 pm pdt
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