Yesterday I arrived at SUCCESS. But wait, there’s more to the story…I intended to ride about 50 miles, starting at the little town of Cabool, MO, and heading north on Hwy 63 toward Rolla. After 11 miles on Hwy 63, I decided that was enough of the big trucks and zero shoulder, and threw my bike on the car to search for a better road. I’d had good luck on MO Hwy 17 the day before, so I gave that one a try again at the town of Houston. I made it only 15 more miles before my body was crying “uncle” on those Ozark hills. Four miles before my end point, I was chased by yet another dog, but this little guy had a friendlier sound and look to him so I slowed enough for him to stick with me. I thought he might get tired and start listening to his owners, who were yelling his name loudly. He was having far too much fun tearing after me down the country road, and I was worried that he would get hit, so I got off my bike and grabbed the leash he was dragging behind him. His owners, Sandra and Jerry, met me halfway. His name is Rummy, after Donald Rumsfeld, and he came home from the pound with Sandra and Jerry about a year ago. He is apparently doing well with his training regimen because he knows how to come to attention when Jerry says, “Rummy, ten-HUT!” Jerry is an Army veteran, and was wearing a shirt that said, “Support our Wounded Veterans.” When I told them about my cross-country ride, Sandra asked if she could pray for me. After she prayed she said, “I sometimes get poems for people...can I give you a poem?” I was intrigued, so I said yes, and she recited the most beautiful poem about my cross-country adventure, which she made up right on the spot. Sandra didn’t know anything about my journey other than the fact that I’m riding cross-country. She had no idea of my visits with Gold Star families, and she doesn’t know me as a person. Yet her words were as appropriate to my experience as they possibly could have been. When I expressed my awed and tearful thanks, Sandra said God sometimes gives her the words to do that for people. I was suddenly energized, and rode the last 4 miles to the tiny town of Success, where my mom was waiting for me. I wanted to ride further, but my legs were spent, and I figured it just wasn’t going to get better than Success…so I called it a day and took a finish line picture next to the tiniest and most well-kept post office I have ever seen. We hopped in the car and drove about two hours to the farmhouse of Mimi Hedl, mother of one of my very best friends in the world, Hilary Niceswanger Smith. After an amazing dinner and some great conversation we were serenaded to sleep by the crickets and cicadas on a perfect Missouri night.
Posted on: Thu, 26 Sep 2013 21:43:19 +0000
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