From the Texas hill country to lands poked with nothing but windmills, sentries keep watching over near nothingness, we’ve seen demarcations between the sky and ground go from populated cities to treeless landscapes spotted with nothing but Dairy Queen billboards and bicyclists shamelessly pushing their bodies to the limit on slim seats. Through all of that, at over 700 miles, the suffering of a slow crawl to the Rocky Mountains is nothing compared to what men with prostate cancer experience. In the past few days I’ve learned something from men who have conquered cancer as well men who peddle for those who relegate themselves to cancer survivors. In the past few days I’ve learned something about strength. Past physical strength, I’ve learned something stellar about what humans can do. How hard and far we can push forward, smiling while experiencing pain. From avid cyclists to semi-professional peddlers, the passion and sense of purpose and pleasure that runs through the veins of these bicyclists is what all human hearts should pump.
The demographics of everyone in 1400 Miles are nothing short of remarkable. Not the sex, but the range of adulthood covering the distances at different speeds, each still concerned with the well-being of the other riders. The ride is both behind them and in front of them at all times, and they’re still more than joyous to chat with people immediately after a long 100+ mile ride about prostate health, taking care of the body, Texas heat versus the cool New Mexican air, all over magnificent Texas craft beers. These men, weighting in at varying ages, celebrate the limits by breaking them. They’re happy to carry on and spark a conversation that could save lives as well as raise money and awareness to help those men who are suffering right now.
Now as we’re on to Abiquiú, these men won’t surrender to the air. They’ll ride it.