AGAINST THE ODDS OF HUMAN NATURE Riding to work today in the rain gave me plenty of time to think about the joy of bicycle commuting. After watching the Ironman Triathalon on Sunday, I pondered on how easy it is to endure for a mere ten miles the summer rains. When I entered the lobby, someone asked, "how do you do it everyday?" I replied, "it's easy, I'm in training." Now, I am, sort of, in training. I entered the "Raccoon Ralleye Mountain Bike Race" in Salamanca, New York this Sunday. But commuting to work it more of a lifestyle choice and not a true workout for a race. What the triathletes endure is truly awe-inspiring. Yes, Mark Allen and Paula Newby-Fraser won hands down for the fourth and fifth times respectively. What impressed me was the endurance of the amateur athletes, those who don't receive megafund endorsements from Oakley sunglasses and Trek and Fuji bicycles. One woman, a mother of five, a basketball coach, and a single parent competed and finished in style. Jim Lawrence, a former football player at Yale, lost a leg in an auto accident. He completed the event using a prosthesis. The most powerful competitor in the event was a man who 14 years ago was a quadriplegic. Throughout this time, he never gave up hope. He struggled against all odds, and finished the event in 16 hours and 56 minutes, just 4 minutes short of the official cutoff time. To me, he represents everything that is beautiful in amateur athletics. We are sometimes overwhelmed by the phenomenon of human competition. Yet there are many people, who in their daily lives, struggle against all odds and overcome their own personal hurdles. My mother-in-law, Helen Shiflet, is presently battling her third major dose of cancer. She has a very rare form of cancer of the throat. Only fourteen cases have ever been recorded in the United States. Using laser surgery, her doctor burned the cancer from her throat, inserted a tube in her throat so she could breath, and afterward, told her that he believed he got it all and that she would not have to undergo radiation or chemotherapy. None of his work would have made a difference if she did not have the will to survive. When I talked to her on the day before her surgery, she said she would make it through and for me not to worry. Now, I'm not the worrier, but I sensed in her the same kind of will to live, the will to overcome all obstacles, and complete the race. In this case, it was against death. Her power comes from deep within, just like the triathletes. She survived double mastectomies, lymph cancer, and still has a mild dose of spinal cancer that is in remission. I admire her immensely. She is no athlete. She is not working out for any major competition, but every day, she struggles against the same kinds of physical, mental, and spiritual hurdles I am sure that Jim Rummells, the former quadriplegic, fought to overcome for the past 14 years. What drives these folks to live under such ominous circumstances? I am sure there is something in them that is beyond expression in words. And without it, they would not survive. Last week, I traveled to northern Quebec with Dan Kendall, and some other members of the "Hoof Hearted, Ice Melted" fishing club to fish for walleyes at Decelles Reservoir. Though the fishing was not as good as a year ago, the experience was rich and inspiring. I spent the last day talking with many local and transient denizens of the area. All of them struggle with the daily adversities of poor health, inclement weather, and voracious insect populations. Many of my fishing partners are retired and struggle with health problems too, but they don't let that stop them from taking off into the bush in chase of the "best eating fish in the world." What drives them is the same sense of resolve I believe that drives the triathlete. They will never receive any rewards for their efforts, yet they inspire me not to fear aging. On the way home, I contracted some sort of 8 hour virus and was really sick. During the ride down a 35 mile long gravel road which bumped and kicked the truck all over the place, my stomach rolled and pitched and I stared into a garbage bag for the better part of three hours. When I finally recovered later in the day, I gave thanks for the return to momentary good health. A few hours after the triathalon was over, a childhood friend, Ed Soltis, phoned me. I had not talked to him for years. He was planning a bicycle trip to New Orleans and wanted some technical advice from me, because he heard from a friend that I was "into biking." Ed was recovering from neck surgery. He had injured three disks during a scrimmage 27 years ago when we were playing football together at Fitch High School in Austintown, Ohio. I remember the day well, because we were playing South High School, and they fielded three guys who eventually went on to play pro football with the Chicago Bears and the Buffalo Bills. Three operations later, his condition is improved, but he still experiences pain and cannot hold his head in one position for any period of time. He told me he planned to cover 200 miles a day and get to New Orleans in seven days. To me, this was akin to completing the triathalon. Ed and I are going to meet and set up his bike and get him ready for his own competition. Illness is a humbling experience. It makes me appreciate the moments when I breathe, walk, and run without pain. Yet, when I am not ill, how soon I forget about it, eat foods not good for me, avoid sleeping enough, and in general, abuse my health. It is in these moments, that the true meaning of the Ironman Triathalon surfaces. Each person, regardless of his or her condition in life, is always competing against the elements of human nature, the aging of the body, the viruses, disabilities, and limitations which adversely affect the quality of life. To the Jim Rummells's, the Helen Shiflets's, the Ed Soltis's, and others of the world who struggle daily with adversities most of us cannot even comprehend, I am eternally grateful for their powerful example of how to live in the context of personal adversity and not only endure physical disabilities, but prevail over them.