How Many Times Do I Have To Learn This?

If only I had asked sooner.

Sometimes I get into these very weird OCD kind of loops in my life.  As the year 2005 drew to a close I was in one of those Type A driven modes.   I had been doing a fair amount of bike riding during the past several years, but 2005 turned out to be the year that broke all personal records.  I had completed nearly 3,300 miles of riding that year, and much of that was on a road bike I had purchased for Christmas two years earlier.  If I could ride 185 miles in that last week before Christmas, I could have 5000 miles on that bike in two years!    A silly goal, but I had the time and it could only be good for my health, right?

It was two days before Christmas and I decided on a route that would put me within twelve miles of making the 5000 mile goal.  I had done this same 44 mile route three previous times in the week and had felt strong on each of the rides.  But this ride was different.

After riding only seven miles of the route my right hand was aching.  I had never experienced that pain in my hand before.  There are three positions I can comfortably put my hands in on my handlebars and it didn’t matter which one I tried, my hand still ached.

When you’re living on two wheels for long periods of time, preparation is the key.  Ever since my scouting days, I’ve tried to “Be Prepared”.  On these long rides I usually have on the bike or on me a tool kit, spare tube, patch repair, windbreaker, suntan lotion, bike pump, two water bottles, headlight, taillight, cycling computer, three energy bars and/or gels, a helmet, a cell phone, and a baggie that holds all kinds of medicines, my id, my insurance card, and a little cash.  Basically I think I’m prepared for most anything that could happen

So at the seven and a half mile mark, I say to myself.  “Self.  You might as well take some Advil now, why wait until later, you’re clearly in pain and it doesn’t seem to be going away.”  So I dug into my medicine cabinet baggie and took two Advil tablets.   I press on a couple more miles and there’s absolutely no relief for my aching hand.

“Oh yeah”, I remember.  For inflammation you’re supposed to take three tablets.”  So I pull over and take a third tablet.  A few more miles and the pain is as bad as it was if not worse.  I start planning escape routes.  “If I can just make it to the tennis courts my wife, Reina, knows where that is and I’ll have her pick me up there.  Or maybe I can make it to the Old Ferry Landing. That’s an even easier spot for her to pick me up.”

My hand is hurting so much by now that I can barely stand to touch the handlebar.  I lightly rest my hand on it to simply assist in keeping the bike balanced.  I’m pretty much riding one-handed.  At times I would simply draw my hand up to my chest to completely change the position and blood flow, hoping for relief.

For some reason I keep pressing on.   I can’t explain why.  Perhaps it was the 185 mile goal in mind, Perhaps I really didn’t want to trouble Reina with coming to pick me up.  Perhaps I kept thinking that the Advil would kick in and I’d be fine.  I made it to the Old Ferry Landing.  That was the halfway point.  22 miles of the 44 I had set out to do.  That was the turnaround point.  Still in pain, but still pressing on for some inexplicable reason.

As I hit the 8 mile straightaway on the return trip, I continued to think of places where Reina could easily find me and I could bail out.  The hand wasn’t getting any better.  Maybe if I make it more than halfway back, it will be easier for her to pick me up and I’ll still get in a bunch of miles toward my goal. Maybe I’ll have her meet me at the bottom of the straightaway.  I reach for my cell phone, but pause and decide not to call.   Maybe I’ll have her meet me where the bike path begins.  Maybe I’ll have her meet me at the park where I first felt the hand pain.  That’s only seven miles off the ride, easy for her and I can make it that far.

Perhaps it was because my whole body was feeling fine, except for my right hand.  Perhaps it was because it was a beautiful day for riding.  Perhaps for some other reason, I kept on riding.  I’ve slowed down considerably, but I keep on going.  I got to a point at about 30 miles into the ride where I thought this ride was some sort of a metaphor for life.  There are always rough spots.  There are always times that cause us pain, but if we just keep moving forward, if we just keep the goal in mind, if we just understand that “this too, shall pass”, we can make it.

At the 35 mile point, my hand, the only part of my body that is hurting, is still in great pain.  It’s been over two hours since I took the three Advil tablets and there’s been no relief.  I’ve tried every possible hand position imaginable and there’s been no relief.  I’ve thought of a half a dozen places where Reina drop what she’s doing and come pick me up, but each time I’ve resisted reaching for the cell phone.  I’ve tried everything . . .

Well, not everything.  Somewhere past the 35 mile point, I turn to God for help.  I pray as fervently as I’ve ever prayed.  I pray specifically for my hand to stop hurting.  I pray that I will be able to finish this ride.  I pray that this isn’t some harbinger of Carpal Tunnel Syndrome that will end my recreational cycling.  I pray to the creator of the universe, that He will take away the pain in my hand.   “Father God, I can’t do this without your help.  I need your strength to make it through this.  Please, Lord, take away this pain in my hand.  I love You, Lord.  You are holy, You are amazing, You are wonderful.  I need You now, Lord.  Please take away this pain.”

"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and rescues those who are crushed in spirit." (Psalm 34:18 NLT) I remember Pastor Rick Warren from Saddleback Church, saying, “When you hurt, God hurts. When you grieve, God grieves.  You are never closer to God than when you are in pain.  God is there.  And He cares.  He wants to meet your needs because He's caring, consistent, and He's close.  That is such Good News!"

How many times do we do that in life?  We paint ourselves into a corner trying to solve all the problems by ourselves.  We figure we can handle it.  We’ve learned from the world to be self-sufficient.  We’ve learned that as men.  We’ve learned that as Americans.  It’s a sign of weakness to ask for help.  You can do it.  Just do it.  Be all that you can be.  If you want a job done right, do it yourself!  Leaning on faith?  Leaning on God?  That’s a stretch for many of us.    

As I contemplate all these things and head back toward the park where the hand pain first came on, I continue to pray.  I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.  I relearn that I must trust in God.

Two miles later I’m back at the park.  I look at my hand in wonder like someone who’s never seen his hand before.  I’m amazed!  There is absolutely NO pain in my hand!  It’s a miracle! As I ride the last seven miles home, I realize how much stronger I’m feeling.  How much faster I’m going.  With tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat it dawns on me that this wasn’t the metaphor ride of my life, this was the miracle ride of my life. Just like the lepers, and blind people and crazies possessed by demons in the Bible, I’ve been completely healed!  All I had to do was ask for His help.   

If only I had asked sooner.

"Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.  For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened.     (Matthew 7:7-8 NIV)